#jamie tartt x f!reader

[illiterateaffairs]

Distractions Masterlist {Jamie Tartt x F!Reader}

playlist | mood board | reader’s instagram | ao3

0. the exit (prologue)

I. london calling 

II. alone at midnight

III. you’re kinda cute 

scene between: stay like this forever

IV. catching feelings

scene between: let’s just play pretend

V. a slight malfunction

VI. nightcall

VII. crawling back to you

VIII. open wound

i like you drabble

IX. slips through my fingers 

X. let me back in

XI. someone to stay

XII. you can feel it on the way home

one shot: dim that spotlight

[inbloomwriting]

If I had you II Jamie Tartt

Plot: Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. Reader thinks it's the easiest thing in the world. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Swearing, mentions of food and alcohol. Notes: This is inspired by the song "a daydream away". It's 5.2k words of pure friends-to-lovers sweetness.  Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. It’s a chore to love him, the real him not the overly confident golden boy he portrays on the pitch. Just look at his track record, that just proves his point. Sure his mom loves him, he never questioned that, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy for her. He’s convinced he’s made her cry more than once with yet another stupid decision. Then there’s his father who loves nothing more than to belittle him and lay out all his flaws for him and the world to see. And if even your own dad doesn’t love you, how can you expect others to. 

So maybe that’s the reason he doesn’t let anyone close enough to even begin to love him. Sooner or later they’ll figure out how much of an effort it takes and that he, of all people, truly isn’t worth it. 

And maybe, perhaps, that’s also the reason he doesn’t allow himself to explore the feelings he harbors for his best friend. He tried to deny them to himself for so long. Tried to pass it off as pure, unfiltered friendship. That’s bullshit though. He knows the feelings are there and there is no use in denying them. That doesn’t mean he can ever allow himself to act on them though. He’d just fuck it all up, the way he usually does with everything he touches. 

The shiny hardwood floor feels cold and smooth as he sits leaning against the kitchen counter, legs stretched out before him. A smile is permanently etched onto his face as (Y/N) talks about something that happened at her work today. He should listen, it’s probably a fun story judging by the way her giggles make her stop talking every few seconds. He should listen but he is so enamored with her that he can not pay attention to anything else. In a perfect world, in a world where loving him was easy, he’d lean over and kiss her. He'd kiss her silly and she’d kiss him back and life would be sweet and it would make sense. In that perfect world, she would love him back the same way he loves her and it would be easy and he’d deserve her. 

But that is not the world he’s living in. That is not his reality. Just a beautiful daydream he allows himself to escape to every once in a while. Loving her in a daydream is safe. It’s secret and quiet and there is no hurt there and no rejection. 

“Why are you grinning like that, huh Tartt?” 

She asks before taking a sip from the beer bottle clasped tightly in her hands. It’s an unusually hot summer’s day. One that makes it impossible to do anything but sit on the floor in as little clothing as possible and drink one cold drink after the other. Even if that means getting a little tipsy on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Nothing. Just happy to have you here. Missed you.”

“We didn’t see each other for a week and you already missed me?”

He misses her the minute she leaves. It’s like his heart isn’t complete if she isn’t there but he can’t really say that can he? Friends don’t tell friends things like that. And a friend is all she is. His best one but still. Telling her any of this could jeopardize their friendship and Jamie doesn’t think he could handle life without her. Not when a week already felt like torture. 

“Well yeah, I’m proper shit at cooking. I need you to feed me.” 

“Oh, is that so? Thought Mr. Bigshot footballer could get free food at any restaurant he fancies.”

She’s teasing but never mean and never hurtful. That’s something he cherishes so much about their friendship. His feelings, his fears — all of it is safe with her. There is no hurt or pain or fear. Just her and her friendship and warmth. And a pair of open arms ready to catch him whenever he stumbles and falls.

“True. But some fancy place in Mayfair will laugh at me if I ask them to make me dino nuggets, won’t they?”

Her laughter, he decides then, is his favorite sound in the world. It makes everything feel alright even if it’s just for a fleeting moment. He needs to keep his feelings locked up in that beautiful daydream because he can never lose this melody her laughter creates. And anyway, he wouldn’t even know what to do if he ever really had her.

— It’s not like she’d say yes anyway.

“You’re probably right about that,” she says and leans her head against his shoulder. And though it’s muggy and hot and he’s sure he can feel their skin stick together, he doesn’t shake her off. She’s part of his heart already, might as well melt into one completely. “You want me to make you some nuggets?” 

“Nah,” Jamie replies and places a soft kiss on the top of her head. Friends kiss friends on the head all the time, everyone knows that. Right? "That's okay. Already had a Kebab with Roy earlier.” 

“You guys are becoming friends then? Should I be worried I’m gonna lose my best friend status?” 

Jamie lets out some mix between a chuckle and a scoff. As if anyone in all the world could ever replace her. What a ridiculous thought. 

“Well he doesn’t make me nuggets, does he? No alphabet soup either. So no. Not yet.” 

The little shake of her fist she does in victory makes him grin even bigger. He must look like a damn fool. 

“I should probably get going sometime soon, I need to finish up some work and do laundry and do all that boring adult stuff that’s waiting for me at home.” 

There are lots of things he should be doing instead of sitting on his kitchen floor on a Tuesday afternoon getting half drunk on cheap beer and half on his overwhelming love for her. He’s sure there are a bunch of texts and emails waiting for him to sort through. Keeley might be popping a blood vessel soon if he doesn’t answer her about that brand requesting to work with him on some ad campaign. And he will get back to her — soon. 

Right now it doesn’t matter. Right now all that matters is him and (Y/N) and their little corner of safety and — home.

“But I don’t want to.” 

“Yeah, me neither. Just want to sit here with you and — “ 

“ — hang out?” 

“Mh. Hang out.” 

That was not what he wanted to say but none of the words ghosting through his head are meant to be spoken out loud. They are his to feel and think and keep hidden and quiet. 

“Good, we can hang out a little longer I think.” 

And he’ll take what he can get. All the precious minutes she grants him he cherishes. 

Right now could last forever and he wouldn’t mind at all.

Not as long as he’s with her.

Some early 00s pop song is blasting from the speakers of the bar. Everyone’s in good spirits and drinks are flowing freely. 

(Y/N) is leaning against the bar talking to Colin, laughing about something he said, radiating joy and happiness. 

She loves his friends, his boys, his family. Jamie loves that she loves them so dearly, so fiercely as if they are her own family. At this point, they might as well be. She remembers all their birthdays, drops by unannounced with cookies for everybody, cheers them on louder than anybody else. Hell, she even gets Roy to smile and that’s quite something. She’s as much a part of the AFC Richmond family as she is a part of his life. 

“Jamie-Jam-Jam what are you sulking over here for,” her voice cuts through the crowd and the music as she slides into the booth next to him. She looks gorgeous in the hazy neon lights. Then again, she always looks gorgeous. 

“Not sulking. Just — thinking.” 

“About what?”

You. He’d say if he was honest and not such a coward. You and how much I adore you and how hard it is not to tell you any of this and fuck up our friendship. 

“Was considering getting me nipples pierced. I’d have to take them out though and I imagine that would be quite annoying.” 

“Probably,” she agrees and nods her head before adding “It would look sick though.” 

“Right? I reckon it would.” 

She laughs at that and once again it shakes his entire world. Like little earthquakes inside his heart. 

Her voice is quieter after her laughter subsides, soft and gentle, and with the loud music it feels like her words are only meant for him. “I like this,” she says almost wistfully.

“The song? Who’s that, Rihanna?” 

“Not the song, silly boy. This — “ she gestures around the room towards all their friends, dancing and laughing and having the time of their lives. And then she motions to the two of them, secluded and safe inside their own little bubble. “escaping our busy lives for a moment.” 

“Lot of journalists would disagree with you there, love. That my life was busy.” 

“They don’t know you like I know you.” 

There’s a sincerity in her eyes, a warmth, something he can’t quite explain. It’s familiar and foreign all at once. 

“No one knows me like you do. You had pity on Jamie Tartt, messy little prick from math class. They just know Jamie Tartt, the footballer from Richmond.Still a prick but now with better hair.” 

Before he knows what’s happening, her hands take hold of his face and gently rest against his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. Really look at her.

“I never had pity on you, Jamie. I thought you were funny and exciting and infinitely cool. That’s why I wanted to be your friend. And I was right! About the funny part, not the cool part.” 

“Obviously.” 

“But I never took pity on you. I don’t think you realize how highly I think of you. Now let me get a sip of that drink.” 

He’s still in some sort of haze brought on by her words when a groan coming from her shakes him from his thoughts. Her face is all scrunched up in disgust as she places his glass back on the table. “Ew, what the fuck is that?” 

“I’m not sure, honestly. Barkeeper said she’d mix me a Jamie Tartt and I was like fuck yeah, a drink named after me.”

“It’s disgusting. Did you shag and dump her at some point? Like, is she mad at you for some reason?” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that woman before in my life … so yeah maybe.” 

Shaking her head with a smirk on her face she grabs a hold of his hand and pulls him out of the booth and towards the bar on the other side of the place, the one with the older male bartender with the impressive beard.

“You ever had a thing with him?” she asks as she leans against the counter, trying to get the man’s attention.

“Nah, I’d remember that facial hair.” 

From then on the night tastes like tequila and beer and it feels like a warm hug. She doesn’t join in on all his drinks, stops herself after a beer and a shot, but she does join him in all the other shenanigans. Like when they make up ridiculous backstories for strangers and have a laugh about some corporate douchebag trying desperately to get with some woman who clearly has no interest in him. 

“Henry from accounting.”

“Nah, that’s Charlie from HR.” 

“Well, either way, Maisie from South Shields is not interested.” 

He could stay here forever, laugh the night away. Drunk on happiness, on love — and also on quite a lot of booze. 

“Come on, Jamie-Jam, “ she says and hands him his jacket. She’s all gentle hands and gentle eyes. “Let me give you a ride home.” 

“We’re going home?”

“I think it’s time. Think someone had a little too much.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He is but also not. He’s sorry for being a burden — again. He’s not sorry for letting himself enjoy a night of unadulterated happiness with the people that mean the most to him.

“No need to apologize, Jamie. I’m glad you had fun. Now come on, silly boy. I’m tired.”

And when they step out of the place and into the night, all sweaty and hair a mess, he thinks that of all the things his eyes have ever seen, the best by far is her. Then and always. 

London passes by in a blur as (Y/N) drives them towards his house. All the bougie buildings and the iron fences and the trees in the parks, it’s all one kaleidoscope of color, a smudge of light and shadows. 

It’s not like he can really focus on that though. Partly because all he can think of is her and partly because he’s absolutely wasted. Mostly her though. Definitely mostly her.

“Did you have a good time?” his voice slices through the comfortable silence.

“I always have a good time when I’m with you, silly boy. Did you?” 

He rests his cheek against the smooth leather of her car seats and regards her with an infinite sense of wonder and adoration. In any other situation, this position would be deeply uncomfortable but he’s numb to anything but the beating of his heart and the strings that pull him towards his best friend.

“Obviously. Had my best girl with me. “

“Keeley?”

His eyebrows raise in confusion. “Keeley? No you numpty, you!” 

“Me?”

“Why would you think I was talking about Keeley?”

He wishes he could see the look on her face. This is not a car conversation. 

“Uh, she’s the only real adult relationship you ever had and you had a poster of her on your wall. Makes one think things. In fact, I believe that poster is still up.”

Jamie can’t help but scoff at her words. Not in a dismissive way necessarily but this whole conversation seems so silly to him. Yeah, he loved Keeley in a way and yeah she’s still one of his best friends but never has she come close to (Y/N). Keeley hardly ever got to see the real Jamie, the one that didn’t hide behind this larger-than-life footballer persona. (Y/N) met him before that persona even existed.

“Stop thinking things then. You’re my best girl, always.”

He still can’t see her face since she is looking at the road in front of them, but he can see the smile pulling the corner of her lips upwards, and for the moment that’s good enough for him.

Her car comes to a stop in front of Jamie's house but while he drags himself out of his seat, she stays put. 

“What are you doing, love?” 

“Dropping you off?” 

“Are you not coming inside then?” 

“Do you want me to come inside? We spent pretty much all week with each other, I thought you might be sick of me by now.” 

A ridiculous thought if he’s ever heard one. He could never get sick of her. They could be glued to each other for the rest of eternity and he wouldn’t mind one bit. 

Even in his drunk state of mind though, he realizes that’s not something he can tell her. That crosses out of friend territory. So he just chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Do I want you to come in? What a dumb question is that? Of course, I do. I have a bag of those disgusting spicy crisps waiting for you in my kitchen.”

“In that case —” 

10 minutes later they’re sitting on his couch, her legs across his lap, munching away at those god-awful crisps as some overly dramatic American home renovation show flickers across the TV screen. 

In moments like these, love lives here. In these walls and on this couch. And it’s terrifying because thinking about love also makes him think of the possibility of losing it. But every once in a while, Jamie lets himself feel a tiny bit of it. Just enough to keep him going. 

“Hey Jamie,” she speaks up, her face only illuminated by the light coming from the TV. She’s wearing his shirt and he wills himself not to focus too hard on that because that will cause images to ghosts through his mind that he can’t allow himself to ever think about. Images that cross every line ever drawn when it comes to friendships.

“Yes, love?” 

“You’re my best boy too. Not sure I ever told you.” 

He doesn’t answer, not in words at least. But he squeezes her legs as they rest on him, and he hopes she knows. Oh god if only she knew. 

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. (Y/N) knows he thinks so because he let it slip once or twice when he was drunk and his words were all jumbled and his mind was all hazy. 

And every damn time it breaks her fucking heart. Because loving Jamie Tartt is the easiest thing she ever did. It comes as natural as breathing. It feels like a nice ray of summer sun on her skin, sizzling and exciting and warm.

Loving Jamie is a gift.

Now if only there was a way she could make him realize that. But every time he lets himself be even a little vulnerable he is so quick to cover the cracks with stupid jokes or misplaced arrogance before a real conversation can happen. 

She needs him to realize it though. To understand that loving him isn’t difficult. Because how can you tell someone you love them and make them understand just how much they mean to you when they deem themself unlovable? 

Turning her head to the side she looks at his sleeping face. Somewhere between Fixer Upper and House Hunters, he fell asleep, leaving her alone with her thoughts. He’s snoring something awful but she still thinks he’s adorable. Jamie has a mischievous, lovable quality to him that just makes you open your heart to him whether you want to or not. Yeah, sure, he’s let people down, he’s done shitty things, but he’s trying. He’s learned and he’s changed and the price for being young and stupid and cocky should not be a life spent questioning if you deserve other people’s love. 

Jamie Tartt is not hard to love. But loving him and not being able to tell him because he doesn’t love you in quite the same way, that’s just fucking cruel.

The air is loaded with static. Everyone is on the edge of their seat. (Y/N) is huddled in between Rebecca and Keeley, holding their hands and nervously biting at her lip. Emotions are running high as Richmond is playing Manchester. Correction — they’re not only playing them, they are kicking their asses.

It’s 2-0 for Richmond and they’re already 1 minute into the 3 minutes of additional time. If Manchester doesn’t get a miracle, Richmond wins. The thought of that makes a fluttery feeling spread in (Y/N)’s stomach. If this is how she feels, she can only imagine what Jamie must feel like. 

1:30

2 minutes

2:30

3 minutes.

“Blow the whistle. Come on. Blow the fucking whistle.” 

And as if he heard her pleading, the referee blows the whistle giving Richmond their win. 

Laughter and cheers and songs fill the air as every Richmond fan is on their feet celebrating a win they so desperately wanted and that the team fought so hard for.

The win Jamie fought so hard for. 

She tries to find him across the pitch but there are too many people, hugging and celebrating, too much noise. She just hopes he knows how proud she is.

And she hopes that somewhere out there his dad is watching. Sees him win, with the team he doesn’t approve of. Watches him succeed and be the man he never was and never will be.

She hopes somewhere deep in the inky black pit that is his heart, he finds a glimmer of pride for his only son, even if it comes entirely belated.

Jamie has won quite a few matches by now and it’s always a great feeling but some wins stand out. This is one of them.

His heart is filled with gratitude and pride, and his entire system is flooded with adrenaline and utter euphoria. He’s positively buzzing as the team gathers in the hallway leading toward the locker room. Some of them have been whisked away to give short post-match interviews — as if there is much to say other than how fucking awesome it feels to win — while the others are waiting for them to come back so they can all meet up at the locker room for some after match briefing. 

“Superstar, you did it!” 

Her voice carries through the hallway above the rest of all the noise. Like a siren calling out to him, she can’t hear anything but her, it all shifts into the background.

She weaves through the crowd like a fucking goddess in blue. He always thought she looked good in the Richmond colors and seeing her with his name on her back never fails to make his heart shutter with delight. But there’s something about today that makes this even more special. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline of winning. Of making his mom proud and proving his dad wrong. Of proving himself wrong. Maybe it’s seeing her in his kit, with his name and his number smiling that radiant smile of hers. Maybe it’s a combination of all these things. But something makes his brain short-circuit for a moment. Just a fleeting moment but long enough to make him push through the crowd until he’s standing in front of her, matching smiles on their faces. Just long enough for him to softly place one hand on her waist and pull her closer, so unbelievably close. Just long enough to cradle her face in his other hand, gentle and careful, like the most precious thing in the world. Long enough for him to place his lips on hers in a kiss so sweet, so long in the making, it feels surreal. It feels like he’s still stuck in his saccharine daydream.

And then reality snaps back and he pulls away, opening his eyes to a smiling (Y/N) staring back up at him through curious eyes.

“Silly boy, what was that?” 

She doesn’t sound upset, in fact, his delusions might even make him think she sounds delighted. 

“I — “ 

“Jamie, locker room. Let’s go, boy!” 

Ted’s voice calls out to him all full of glee and jubilation. The guy sounds even more chipper than usual and that says a whole lot. 

Pulling away from her feels like having a bubble suddenly popped. Every what-if that has been clouded by post-win euphoria suddenly bears their ugly head again. Sometimes Jamie wishes his thoughts weren’t so fucking loud all the time.

“Go, your coach is asking for you. I’ll see you at the after-party. We’ll talk then, yeah?”

Only they don’t because, for some inexplicable reason, Jamie avoids her like the plague.

Everyone is gathered at the bar for celebratory drinks, it’s a private function, just the team and family and associates. Spirits are high, everyone’s excited. And all things considered this night should be magical. Only it’s not, because once again Jamie refuses to let himself be loved.

Rejection tastes bitter. It’s sharp and metallic. Rejection also tastes quite a lot like tequila.

The salt, the lime, the liquor — it’s supposed to make her feel better. It’s supposed to mend the cracks in her heart, if only for a night. 

It doesn’t do any of that, it only makes her fucking sad.

How foolish of her to believe that he’d feel the same, that he’d finally pick up on the hints she’s been dropping for over a decade and reciprocate the feelings. Maybe they never stood a chance anyway. Maybe —

No, actually fuck that.

He can’t do this, it’s unfair. You don’t kiss someone, not like that at least, and then ignore them for the rest of the night. Especially not when that person is your best fucking friend.

Bumping against people left and right, she makes her way across the room to stand next to a smiling Jamie deep in conversation with a pretty girl, who (Y/N) is quite sure is the sister of one of his teammates.

“I need to talk to you.” It’s not a request. Not this time. This conversation has been a long time coming. It’s time, she thinks, to finally be brave. One can only swallow down their feelings and emotions for so long, until they come bubbling to the surface like a fucking volcano rolling over Pompeii. She just hopes that once the dust settles there will be hope instead of death and destruction.

“Uh, kind of in the middle of something here.” 

She can’t stand this part of him. This fake, unbothered cool guy who has no empathy for her or anyone other than himself. She hates it mostly because this is not the real Jamie, just some cardboard cutout version of him.

“Too bad, that'll have to wait.” 

She doesn’t give him another second to resist or shake her off, just grabs onto his arm and pulls him through the crowd and towards the exit.

The nightly London air feels cold against her skin, making her shiver as goosebumps appear on her arms.

“What the fuck is going on with you?”

“What the fuck is going on with me?”

He can’t be serious.

“Yeah. I had something going there. She was well fit too.”

The urge to smack him across his stupidly handsome face is seriously fighting her desire to kiss him again right about now.

“Good for her but you owe me a conversation.”

“(Y/N), I — “ 

The way he rolls his eyes so dismissively, so suave and cool, it’s like a dagger straight to the heart.

“No, you know what — fuck you, Jamie. I know you have a hard time letting people in completely, and I get that that’s something you have to work through on your own time but the way you're treating me right now is really shit. You can’t kiss me like that and then run. I’ve been waiting for that fucking kiss for over a decade.” 

“What?” 

He looks at her with the signature Jamie Tartt look of confusion and innocence. Like a damn puppy or something. And if she wasn’t so annoyed, so hurt, maybe she’d find it endearing.

“I’m in love with you, Jamie. I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you. I’ve been in love with you since I was sat next to you in class and you asked me if Pythagoras was that French guy. I’ve loved you when you were just a chaotic teenager. I’ve loved you when you won your first game and when you lost. I’ve loved you when you signed your first contract and when you made a complete fool of yourself on that ridiculous tv show. And I love you now. So to think you finally picked up on it and reciprocate my feelings was — I was so happy, Jamie. Only for you to completely ignore me for the rest of the night. I don’t deserve that. Not from you of all people. “

“Will you let me talk?”

“No, I’m not done yet.”

“Alright, go on.”

“I love you, Jamie and I know you think I shouldn’t and that you don’t deserve it, but guess what? I don’t care. I love you anyway and I am not asking for permission to love you. That’s not how it works. And I don’t love you despite your flaws, I love them too. Even your stupid 2003 looking haircut and your ridiculous clothes that make you look like a male Bratz doll sometimes. Sorry people in your life made you feel like you had to earn it just because they couldn’t see how phenomenal you are. Just you, Jamie Tartt, messy little prick.” 

Silence wraps around them like a thick blanket as a moment passes, then two. Jamie raises his eyebrows in question.

“Can I?”

“Yes, you can!”

“Jesus, alright. Stop yelling at me.”

“Well, I’m upset!”

“And I’m sorry about that. I never meant to upset you. Ever. I just — do you remember that one birthday, I think I turned 12, when me dad showed up and he was just being his usual asshole self and he made me play against him and then yelled at me in front of all the guests when he won? “

She sure does. Even at 12, she wanted to put her tiny little fist straight between Mr. Tartt’s eyebrows. “Yes.”

“You sat with me when I went to my room to escape. Refused to leave my side. Called my dad a wanker and you made me laugh. Then you got me a piece of cake and we ate it on my bed while watching Spongebob.” A smile plays on his lips as he reminisces about that day.

“I was 12 and I didn’t know a lot but I knew that night that I was in love with you and I immediately promised myself I wasn’t gonna do anything about it. Losing you is the scariest thing I can think about and my track record with people is pretty shit, honestly. So yeah I didn’t want to even risk fucking up with you. Rather have you as a friend than not have you at all.”

“So why did you kiss me earlier after all?”

“For one, you looked so fit in blue, with my name on your back. I was full of adrenaline and just so fucking happy. I uh — I think my mind was telling me that it’s finally time to be brave for once.”

Hearing him say it, it’s something she never expected but always hoped for. She’s played this scene out so many times in her dreams and yet she doesn’t know what to say or do now that it is actually happening.

“So what now?”

“Well, if you let me, I was gonna kiss you. Because if you think that other kiss was great, this next one is going to change your life.”

As those words fall from his lips, (Y/N) can’t get close to him quick enough. Pulling him towards her by the front of his shirt. Closer and closer until there is no room left between them and he gently nuzzles his nose against hers. 

“Jamie Tartt?” 

“Hmm?”

“Change my life!”

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thought so. And maybe a part of him still does and always will. But kissing (Y/N), his best girl, the fucking love of his life, it feels quite easy to let himself be loved. 

Feels as easy as breathing. And for once in his life, the reality is so much sweeter than the daydream. 

[pandorasprongs]

JAMIE TARTT | it's nice to have a friend.

MASTERLIST:

i've already mapped out this story, so until further notice, this is the length of the whole fic! as i post the chapters, i'll gradually update the titles here :)

PROLOGUE - hold on to the memories. CHAPTER ONE - nothing good starts in a getaway car. CHAPTER TWO - you'll always know me. CHAPTER THREE - so inviting, i almost jump in. INTERLUDE - are we still friends? CHAPTER FOUR - come home to my heart. CHAPTER FIVE - this is what it feels like. CHAPTER SIX - it all makes sense when i'm with you. EPILOGUE - you and me, always and forever.

PLAYLIST:

some songs that helped me along while writing and the lyrics of some of them are actually where i got the title chapters from! i didn't put the songs in order, but you can try and tell what direction the story is going to go based on them (insert evil laugh)!

1. it's nice to have a friend by taylor swift 2. mess it up by gracie abrams 3. new year's day by taylor swift 4. dorothea by taylor swift 5. you & me by the wannadies 6. 1, 2 by mxmtoon 7. bite the hand by boygenius 8. still into you by paramore 9. feels like by gracie abrams 10. angels like you by miley cyrus 11. cardigan by taylor swift 12. daylight by taylor swift 13. are we still friends? by tyler, the creator 14. first time by lucy dacus 15. gold rush by taylor swift 16. true blue by boygenius 17. promise by laufey 18. two people by gracie abrams 19. bags by clairo 20. miss me by zeph 21. just because by sadie jean 22. two weeks ago by maisie peters 23. back to december by taylor swift 24. supercut by lorde 25. fool by frankie cosmos

[lovemesickly]

And Just Like That

summary: five times Jamie Tartt heard of Sasha Adair and the one time he met her

a/n: so i did give reader a name and the reason for this is because i am thinking of turning this into a whole ass series with the characters that are new and mentioned. the series will more or less be revolved around this one-shot. so please comment and give all the feedback/ideas and let me know if turning this into a series is a good idea. and fyi there is no description of sasha so imagine her however you want. thank you and enjoy reading!

warning(s): mature language and implied sexual themes and a +2.6k word count

1. 

Jamie Tartt was seven the first time the name Sasha Adair graced his ears. He had just arrived at football training with the older kids, even though he was one of the younger lads on the team he was their star player. As they warmed up, he couldn’t help but overhear the coaches talking amongst themselves. 

“I can’t believe Alec Adair is retiring, God never thought I’d see the day,” one coach replied to the other.

“I know, he’s pushing 40 too. It's about time he retired. I mean he's got a kid, Sasha I think the kid's name is. Apparently, that's why he's retiring in the first place. Wants the domestic life, news flash mate, it's not all it's cracked up to be,” the other coach said in disdain.

“Hey, it just means fewer wins for Richmond and hopefully more for Man City,” and at that, the two men started to crack up. 

Later that day when Jamie went home, he snuck onto his mother's computer and looked up Alec Adair. Article upon article popped up, photos ranging from the start of Alec's career to the present day flooded said articles. One picture caught his attention more so than the others, Alec standing in the goalie's net with a little girl (Jamie guessed it was Alec's kid Sasha). Alec decked out in his Richmond kit, while his little girl sat on his shoulders decked out in a smaller version of said kit. It seemed the picture caught their mid-laugh and Jamie couldn't help but wonder what that was like, having a laugh with his father. Before Jamie could scroll through any more photos, he heard his mother coming up the stairs.

2.

Years passed and Jamie was eighteen the second time the name Sasha Adair was mentioned in his presence. Freshly turning the legal drinking age in England, he and a couple of his mates decided to hit the pubs. As Jamie threw back shot after shot, beer after beer, it took a toll on his bladder. Desperately needing to relieve himself, Jamie made his way to the back of the pub he currently occupied. He didn’t know if the liquor was getting to him or if he had heard it right, but the name Sasha Adair rang like a church bell in his ear. Stopping just short of the bathroom, he turned to his right. There just across the way from him was a rectangle lighting up with sound and color. Hypnotized by the rectangle, he moved closer to it. It seemed his eyes didn’t want to adjust but thankfully his ears worked just fine. 

A woman's voice came out of the lite up box, “It seems Adair strikes again. It wasn’t too long ago that Alec Adair was making his debut as a Mighty Red. Seems only fitting now that Sasha Adair at just the age of sixteen is undergoing the same fate. What’d you say about that Marge?”  

Another women’s voice sat in Jamie’s ears, “Alec Adair was an absolute menace out on the pitch. And if Sasha is anything like her father when it comes to football, we are in for a ride.”

A little dazed and confused, and still needing to pee, Jamie started to make his way to his desired destination. As he relived himself, he couldn’t help but replay what he had heard just moments before. He didn’t know what to think of it as he was either too drunk or too tired to care. Still, he scoffed slightly under his breath, nepotism was a real fucking bitch.

3. 

Four years later and Jamie was twenty-two and if you asked his teammates, he was the most enormous prick around. That didn’t stop Keeley Jones from dating him and it sure as hell didn’t stop her from having sex with him either. It happened to be that they were at Jamie's house together when he heard the name Sasha Adair for the third time in his life. They had just finished doing the deed, Jamie was in the kitchen grabbing himself a glass of water and a small bite to eat while Keeley sat on the couch just having turned on the telly. 

As what was years ago to Jamie a rectangle with lights and sound turned on, Keeley couldn’t help but let out a gasp, “My god”, she exclaimed. Jamie confused as to what Keeley was reacting to, turned around from the fridge to face the telly playing in the living room.

Up on the telly was the local news channel, Keeley having turned it up to get the full story. 

“Breaking news just in, Earlier this afternoon Manchester United’s women's team player number 11, Sasha Adair was in a devastating collision. Let's go to Richard Tally, who is currently at the scene of the incident,” the screen changed to an older gentleman out in what looked like the countryside.

“Here out in the middle of Aberdeenshire, Scotland, at approximately one-forty-two this afternoon Sasha Adair crashed into this tree over to my right,” the camera spanned over to the news anchor's right side, and there it was. Said tree was broken, hanging on to its bottom half for dear life. And in front of that tree was broken glass, most of the scene having been cleared away. “According to Police Scotland, Adair was traveling at a speed of around 80 kilometers per hour. And my sources say that she wasn’t the only one in the automobile. We don’t know yet her condition, hopefully, she makes a speedy recovery soon. Back to you Beatrice.”

Jamie couldn’t believe it. Underneath that prick exterior, he felt bad for the poor lass. The crash looked quite severe and Jamie didn’t want to think about the pain she might be in. As a professional footballer himself, he knew an incident like that could be the end of one’s career. 

Before he could think on it any further, Keeley interrupted, “That poor girl, I hope she's okay.” Jamie didn’t respond but deep down he wished she was too.

4.

Jamie had just been returned back to Manchester City when he heard Sasha Adair's name come up. Sitting in the locker room, Jamie was tying up his studs, with his fellow teammates when Sasha Adair came up.

“Oi, Tartt. Heard that Richmond got a new coach for the women's team. Alec Adair, right?” O’Gara asked. But before Jamie could answer Hitzemann butted in.

“He shoulda been the one to coach the men, leave Lasso to the girls,” chuckles could be heard around the locker room. 

And just like that the Adair train started. Jamie knew as soon as it kicked off with Alec that it was just going to end with Sasha and of course, he was right.

“Wasn’t it just a couple of years ago that you were dating Sasha Adair, Brimblecom?” Jamie didn’t know who had asked the question as he tried to keep his head down and he really wished he didn’t have to hear the response either.

All eyes flew to Brimblecom, and slowly a cocky smile made its way onto his face, “I sure was, all up until she went fucking mental after the accident.”

It seemed none of the men regarded what was just said as jealous whispers could be heard all around ranging from, “The photos of her don’t do her justice” to “What I would do to tap that” and much more crude remarks. Jamie didn’t participate in said conversation, he was utterly disgusted by the men he called his teammates. If someone talked about Keeley the way they were talking about Sasha he’d go absolutely ballistic. Jamie may be a prick to men, but when it came to women and children he knew never to disrespect them. He just hoped that Sasha was doing alright and relieved that twat Brimblecom wasn’t in her life anymore. 

5. 

Returning to Richmond for the season after getting promoted back into the Premier League, Jamie did not expect to hear Sasha Adair's name. It had happened seconds after Jan Maas had gone on a tangent about statists and teams being promoted. What was really shocking was it was Sam who brought her up. Having just changed into his kit and going to his cubby, Sam picked up his phone only for a notification from a news outlet to pop up. Clinking on it, Sam thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

“Guys, guys you’ll never guess what I just read”, Sam said with a beaming smile on his face, eyes shining.

“Bruv, please don’t tell me it's another article predicting us to finish last this season”, sighed Isaac. 

“No, it’s about Sasha Adair,” At that the whole room quieted down, seeing Alec Adair in the same building was enough to get them starstruck. But Sasha Adair was a whole other kind of emotion for these men. Sam continued, “She's coming out of retirement”. 

Whispers now collected in the locker room, none of the men believed what they were hearing. While Jamie stood by himself, wondering what the fuck was going on. These men were acting like they were in secondary school, gossiping about a girl. He didn’t think it could get any worse until it did.

Sam wasn’t done talking, “Wait there's more,” Once again it was silent as Sam scrolled through the article. The men were on the edge of their seats, not thinking it could get better from here. At this point Sam was reading through the article at lightning speed, “It says here that she's going to be playing for A.F.C. Richmond”.

At that chaos followed. Will the kit man had to sit down in fear of fainting. Colin and Isaac were giggling like a bunch of school girls. Dani started speaking to himself in Spanish. Zoreaux at a loss for words hoping he doesn’t make a fool out of himself the way he did with Alec Adair. And Richard singing her high praises. The other players having their own mixed reactions. Jamie in particular.

Over the years he had heard her name from multiple sources, both the good and the bad. And now with her about to be in the same building as him, training on the same pitch as him, he was astonished. But he didn’t have time to think about it as he had to get ready to get on the pitch and still had yet to change into his kit.

1.

It had been about a week since the news of Sasha Adair and her coming back out of retirement, playing for Richmond. And so far there has been no sighting of her at Nelson Road. The guys had been trying to see if they could catch a glimpse of her and to no avail they had no luck. All but one of them, all but Jamie Tartt. 

He hadn’t been trying to scout her out, he wasn’t like his teammates in that department. He swears it had just been a chance encounter. It had been weight training day for the men's side of Richmond and Jamie was beyond annoyed. It first started off with him getting barely any sleep due to Roy and his 4 am training schedule. Next, it was the fact that it was weight training day and Bumbercatch almost dropped a dumbbell on Jamies star winning foot. But the icing on top of the already shit cake was Jamie's headband broke, snapped right as he bend down to grab his water bottle. 

Releasing a sigh, he grabbed his water bottle and exited the weight training area, hoping and praying he had an extra headband in his cubical. Ravaging through his duffle bag, jacket, and all the places he could think where it might be, he came up empty-handed. There was nobody else on the team that wore headbands, most of the guys had short hair, minus Dani but still he tied his up. Usually, at a time like this, he would ask someone from the women's team of Richmond. It wouldn’t be a bad idea until he realized, he couldn’t just go out onto the middle of the pitch and interrupt their practice for a goddamn headband. 

Just as he thought he would have to deal with his hair being in his eyes for the remainder of the day, a woman walked past the locker room. Thinking maybe she had a headband, he couldn’t help to all but sprint out into the hallway and stop that girl. 

He called out a couple of times to her, “Excuse me, miss”. There was no response. “Miss! Miss!”. She didn’t even turn around it was almost as if she didn’t hear him or was downright ignoring him. Fed up with calling and not being acknowledged, he ran up to her and tapped her on the shoulder to which she took out an earbud and finally turned around. 

The moment she faced him, was the moment that Jamie Tartt forgot why he even bothered her in the first place. He had never seen a woman more beautiful than the one standing before him, from her hair to her lips to her eyes staring into his own. Fuck he could get lost in those eyes forever. And it seemed he almost did just that but thankful he was able to come back to reality in time to hear her voice.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her breath light and airy. One eyebrow was crooked, curious as to what this man could possibly want.

“Yea, um sorry to bother you. But I was just wondering if you had a headband I could borrow. You see mine broke and usually I have a spare, but dumb meh forgot it at home. And I’d ask one of the guys, though they all mostly have short hair and I just don’t like meh hair getting in meh eyes is all,” at this point Jamie was rambling, it had been a while since he talked to a girl that wasn’t either his mother or Keeley.

Before he could continue on, the woman in front of him seemed to pull something out of her A.F.C. Richmond jacket. Lo and behold, Jamie couldn’t believe his luck, there it was a headband the same color as Richmond’s home kit. “Here, seems like you need this more than I do,” she put the headband in Jamie's hand.

For a second Jamie had lost sense of reality again, with her skin touching his he didn’t know how to think. “Th-thank you, I appreciate it yea”, he started to fiddle around with the headband.

A small smirk overtook her face, “Don’t mention it and actually keep it, I won’t be needing it any time soon”. There was a moment of silence between them before she broke it, “Anyways, I have to get on the pitch or Coach is literally going to skin me alive. But hope the headband helps keep the hair out of your eyes. It was lovely chatting”.

With that, she turned around and was just about to start walking to the weight training room which had a door that lead out onto the pitch when Jamie realized he had no clue who she was. “Wait, I never got your name”, he said to her back.

She turned her head to look at him, ear bud just about to enter her ear again, only to put Jamie in an even bigger state of shock. “Sasha. Sasha Adair”. Just like that, she walked off, leaving Jamie flabbergasted and dumbstruck. He couldn’t believe he had just met the women he had grown up hearing about from coaches, pubs, the telly, his teammates. 

And as he looked down at his hands, to the headband she had given him. He couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe today wasn’t so poopeh after all.

[multifanatics]

hii :) i was wondering if you could write an enemies to lovers jamie tartt x reader fic where maybe she’s the sister of someone on the team and hates jamie from the minute they meet but after an unexpected night together, reader realizes she could be falling for him

idk if that makes sense 🫣🫠

A/N: Of course! I changed it a bit, I apologize. I hope you like it!

Warnings: Possible spoilers, Slight angst, Mentions of Jamie's dad, and more.

Word Count: 463

---

From what [Y/N] had heard Jamie Tartt was a grade A asshole. She felt the same way once she met him; Jamie is full of himself, a self righteous, pretentious prick who had to be better than everyone else. 

“Jamie Tartt I’ve heard about you.” Jamie wondered his way toward [Y/N] and Colin. [Y/N] and Colin had been best friends since forever. [Y/N] held out her hand to greet Jamie. 

“I don’t really shake hands.” Jamie spoke unphased by [Y/N]’s statement. Of course she’s heard of him, he’s Jamie fucking Tartt. Jamie told Colin off for not passing to him before he left showing [Y/N] that she truly hated him. There was no ‘good game’ before he left, he just left.

It was such a shitty first impression that [Y/N] was convinced that Jamie Tartt was the one person in the world she strongly disliked more than anything in the world. Which was what made accepting that he changed over the past two years so difficult. Even when watching the football matches on the television every pass he made to other teammates. Unbeknownst to her the growing anger laced a much stronger emotion. 

“Daydreaming?” Jamie asked. She was there in the locker room earlier and went to Jamie’s hotel room to ‘know if he’s okay’. The locker room after the match was hard to watch when Jamie’s dad showed up which placed [Y/N]’s misplaced anger onto Jamie’s father, a man who deserved it.

“Yeah, I guess.” [Y/N] spoke defensively. Jamie took a seat on the couch one cushion away from her. 

“I’m not the best at reacting.” Jamie tried to make conversation and he chuckled dryly. [Y/N] just nodded. 

“But uhm..” Jamie tried to think about what to say. [Y/N]’s crying was guilt mixed with an aforementioned laced emotion and the stress she was under at her job. 

“We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.” [Y/N] looked at him and his uneasy smile. 

“He’s the reason I tried my hardest. Called me weak, a pussy…” Jamie trailed off trying to come up with the words for an apology for the things he’s done in the past to her and to the team. 

“I guess I'm trying to say I'm sorry.” Jamie spoke, hanging his head, while [Y/N] felt the conflict of emotion that filled her. The true emotion made itself known, but now wasn’t the best time to admit to her now realized crush. 

“I forgive you, I can’t imagine the hell you’ve been put through.” [Y/N] placed her hand on his shoulder and he glanced at her, the expression on his face said it all. Now, just wasn't the time.

[jamietarttdoooodooooo]

Guts l Prologue

Paring: Jamie Tartt x f!reader

Word count: 337

Warnings: cussing

Yes a couple weeks ago you got an email from Rupert asking you to come and perform at West Ham. Your boyfriend, Shawn, personality knows Rupert and is a big fan of West Ham.

You had to take the offer. Even though you thought that Rupert was creep, crazy, and weird it was for your boyfriend. 

You love Shawn. You had been together for 6 months. You two are so close that people think you should just get married already.

You are a Richmond fan that is literally the only thing from not getting married. If you weren’t dating Shawn you would probably be working besides your best friend already at AFC Richmond.

Your best friend Jamie fucking Tartt. You two meant when you were five. Both of you were in the popular group in elementary school through high school. That first day you went to elementary school you two made the popular group.

Your dad was rich and a millionaire and Jamie looked like he was cool. You were from America so everyone at school thought it was cool that you had a different accent.

You never grew apart from Jamie even though he has been a prick since he was eighteen. You at eighteen thought it was cool to be a prick, you were one it highschool and Jamie just seemed to follow after you.

You were always in designer clothes and shit, but then your dad died soon after your first year in college. You started realizing that being a prick wasn’t ok and started to wear comfy clothes.

Meanwhile Jamie started taking your place and being a prick. You  didn’t like that and everything you did to make it stop, it didn’t work. You just can’t wait till he realizes that he can’t be a prick anymore.

You were so nervous performing tomorrow without even practicing on the stage before you had to and not seeing any of the outfits.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

I Live For You

Fandom: Ted Lasso

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: You and Jamie have a baby girl, Olivia, and she is the light of your lives. Every time she's feeling fussy or having trouble sleeping, Jamie sings her a song and it always works. Inspired by my imagine.

It's 2am when you hear Ollie's cries from the baby monitor. Jamie grunts as he sits up, "I got 'er," he mumbles, rolling out of bed in just his underwear. You immediately fall back asleep.

You're woken up again when you hear singing. You look at the baby monitor in confusion and see Jamie sitting in the rocking chair in the nursery, Olivia in his arms.

Please believe me, don't you see The things you mean to me? Oh, I love you, I love you I love, I love, I love Olivia

I live for you, I long for you, Olivia I've been idolizing the light in your eyes, Olivia I live for you, I long for you, Olivia Don't let me go Don't let me go

You sleepily smile to yourself. Olivia by One Direction was how you and Jamie decided to name your daughter.

Both of you grew up with the band's music, although Jamie would admit that to very few people. Nonetheless, you both loved to listen to their music together, dancing around your shared home, singing at the top of their lungs.

When Olivia came on during one of these times, Jamie said, "Ya know, I wouldn't mind callin' our future kid that."

"Really?" you looked at him in surprise.

He shrugged, "It's a cute name. Olivia Tartt. Ollie for short."

"Oh, she's taking your last name?" you asked with a smirk.

He smiled at you as he said, "Well, you're gonna be takin' me last name too, yeah?" he said as he decidedly pulled a ring out of his pocket and knelt onto the floor.

So yes, the song Olivia is a very important one in regards to your relationship with Jamie.

You continue to listen to Jamie softly sing Olivia to your daughter, his voice lulling you back to sleep.

_______________________

It seemed that that song never failed to put Olivia at ease. Hearing yours or Jamie's voice singing how much you love her ceased all her fussing and crying. Time and time again, you and Jamie found yourselves singing the song even more now, but in a more calmer, softer tone.

More often than not, it was Jamie singing the song to her. It happened so often and yet it never seized to make your heart swell with so much love for him and your daughter.

One night, you decide to secretly film Jamie and Ollie in the nursery. Jamie is in the rocking chair, feeding Ollie her bottle while he sings the song you're both all too familiar with now.

Say what you're feeling and say it now 'Cause I got the feeling you're walking out And time is irrelevant when I've not been seeing you The consequences are falling now There's something I'm having nightmares about And these are the reasons I'm crying out to be with you

Please believe me, don't you see The things you mean to me? Oh, I love you, I love you I love, I love, I love Olivia

He presses two kisses onto your daughter's head and continues to sing:

I live for you, I long for you, Olivia I've been idolizing the light in your eyes, Olivia I live for you, I long for you, Olivia Don't let me go Don't let me go

He nuzzles his face into her tiny neck and she gives a little giggle, which brings a smile to his face.

You stop recording and proceed to post the video on your socials with the caption: Ollie's lullaby sung by her dad.

Jamie has no idea you posted that until he put Olivia down for bed and checked his phone before joining you in bed too.

"Did you film that just now?"

You nod, "Yup. You two are so cute. I had to show off my loves," you peck his lips and he pouts, "What?" you ask with a giggle, swiping some of his walnut mist hair out of his face.

"Everyone's callin' me soft like."

You snort, "Lovey, you are soft and a wonderful dad. That's why I posted the video. To show people that side of you...ut if the video bothers you, I can delete it."

He shakes his head, "Nah. It's fine. It's gonna make me more likeable and shit with the fans, yeah?"

You snort, and shove at his shoulder, "There's that prickish behavior." You giggle and settle into his arms.

_____________________

One year. How did it go by so quickly? A year flown by since you've had your little Ollie. She's already so grown.

Sam insisted her first birthday be held at Ola's and there was no room for you to refuse.

Everyone there adored Ollie. Each Richmond team member coming in with big wrapped boxes of toys. Even before she was born, you knew that your children were going to be spoiled by their uncles.

Ollie had them all wrapped around her little fingers. But the one who was the most attached to her was Roy.

Jamie liked to joke that, by extension, that meant Roy was attached to Jamie. To which Roy responded, "As if I'm not around you enough."

But you knew that Roy was fond of Jamie. Like a big brother is with his younger siblings.

"Alright, babes," Keeley plucks Olivia out of Roy's arms, "There's a special performance that the boys put on for you." She carries your daughter where you and Jamie sit. The Greyhounds gather towards the area where they pushed all the chairs and tables back.

"We are gathered here today for Miss Olivia Tartt's first birthday," Sam announces.

"She's very special to us," Dani adds.

"So we decided to show her how special she is." Colin says.

Roy presses play on his phone and an all too familiar song booms from the bluetooth speakers and the Greyhounds sing:

Remember the day when we've given up When you told me I didn't give you enough And all of your friends were saying I'll be leaving you She's lying in bed with my t-shirt on Just thinking how I went about it wrong This isn't the stain of a red wine, I'm bleeding love

Please believe me, don't you see The things you mean to me? Oh, I love you, I love you I love, I love, I love Olivia

I live for you, I long for you, Olivia I've been idolizing the light in your eyes, Olivia I live for you, I long for you, Olivia Don't let me go Don't let me go

As the guys, (yes, including Roy), sing to Olivia she's moving in Keeley's arms, dancing and clapping her hands. She's smiling wide in amusement as some of the most important people in her life dedicate a performance to her.

During a music break, the guys move into a very adorable and well choreographed dance. You and Jamie are laughing in amazement.

Don't let me go Don't let me go Don't let me goooooo!

The song ends and everyone in the restaurant burst into applause.

You grab Ollie from Keeley and bring her to the boys, who all crowd around her, giving her hugs and kisses.

"Lads, that was incredible. Can't believe you even got grandad there to participate," Jamie nods to Roy.

"And that's the only time you'll be seeing me do that, you prick."

"Seriously, guys, it was great. Ollie loved it. Didn't you, baby?" you kissed your giggling daughter on the cheek.

"Love, should we do the cake now?" Jamie asks, coming up to your side, hand on your hip.

"Oh yes!" You hand Olivia to Jamie and rush to the kitchen to bring the cake out. It's Bluey themed to match the theme of the party.

Jamie holds Ollie in his lap as you set the cake in front of them, lighting the candles. In unison, everyone sings Happy Birthday to her. At the end, Jamie helps her blow the candles out and a cheers erupts, which has Ollie smiling.

It warms your heart to see her so loved by everyone there.

[justauthoring]

change in perspective.

you never thought jamie tartt could be anything but a prick.

a/n: i have no explanation for this other than i just finished ted lasso (fashionably late as always) and this man makes me giggle like a little school girl :) (this is also not spellchecked! i'll do it later ;))

pairing: jamie tart x f!assistant coach!reader

“Does someone want to explain to me just what exactly Jamie Tartt is doing out on the field?”

All three coaches turn to you at the sound of your voice, but it’s Ted’s eyes that light up the second he registers your presence. A smile curls onto his lips as he turns to face you, posture nonchalant with his hands shoved into his pockets. “Ah! Well, if it isn’t my favourite assistant coach, Y/N! I was worried something had happened.”

Blinking back at Ted, you simply cross your arms over your chest. “What is Jamie doing out on the field?”

Ted lets out a laugh but it comes across more as a grimace as he rubs the back of his neck, turning his head to glance at Nate and then Beard. 

It’s Beard who explains. 

“Ted invited him back to the team.”

The water bottle you’d been holding in your hands promptly falls to the ground with a thud as your lips part, mouth left wide open, staring blank faced at Ted who continues to laugh somewhat uncomfortably.

“What?”

Beard raises his hands as if to gesture that he is an innocent party in your accusation all whilst you shift your shocked expression to a glare at Ted.

“Well, you know… I–I just thought that, well… he’s a good player, yeah?”

Shaking your head, you huff; “regrettably so.” Because even you weren’t bitter enough to not admit that Jamie was a great football player. Fantastic really. But–But he was an absolute prick who you’d thought you’d never have to work with ever again.

“And this team needs a little something to spice us up, yeah?” Ted, in Ted style, does a little dance (that’s meant to make you laugh) to add to the effect of his words.

“No,” you say blankly, before Ted raises a brow at you. Sighing, your shoulders fall. “Yeah.”

Offering you a smile, Ted rests his hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Give him a chance, okay?” He asks, his eyes pleading as he nods down at you. “I think he really means to make up for it all.”

You seriously doubt that. But, you don’t voice that opinion.

“Fine,” you surrender, dropping your hands to your side. “But I’m allowed to laugh at him when this team kicks his arse. Which they will because he deserved it.”

Ted snorts at that, “don’t worry, Nate’s already got you beat on that front.”

Your eyes shift to said man, and he’s sending you a wide grin and a thumbs up in a way that makes you chuckle despite how truly unhappy you were with Jamie only a few feet away from you, on your team.

-

The only thing that had made practice somewhat bearable was seeing Jamie repeatedly knocked on his ass.

And then mocked by the rest of the team.

Truly, it brought a smile to your face.

You’re still laughing to yourself about it as you finish packing up your stuff in the office you shared with Nate. Him, Ted, Beard and pretty much most of the team were already gone or on their way out the door, but you usually elected to stay a little longer than everyone else trying to come up with new gaming strategies, plays and honestly, team bonding exercises since you found it incredibly important that the team genuinely care for one another if they were going to play on a team together.

You’re just sliding your laptop into your bag when a knock pulls you from your musings.

“Oh, Sam, just give me–”

Except, it isn’t Sam when you finally glance up. It’s Jamie.

You’re leaping to your feet before you can stop yourself, a surge of panic running through your body as your wide eyes meet his. He’s blinking back at you, as if as shocked by your reaction as you were, and before you know it you’re glancing around, half expecting Ted or Beard to be there because why else would Jamie be here?

But neither of them are there, of course, they’d left twenty minutes ago.

“Coach Lasso and Beard have already left,” you explain before he can say anything. “You’re gonna have to wait until tomorrow to talk to–”

Shaking his head, Jamie takes a step towards you. “I wasn’ lookin’ for them. I, uh… was lookin’ for you actually.”

You blink. Once, twice, before your brows furrow. “What?”

He steps towards you again, fully stepping into your office as he scratches at his face absentmindedly, looking just as uncomfortable as you felt. He glances around for a moment before his gaze focuses back on you, and the serious expression on his face is one you’re not used to or know how to react to so you continue to stare blankly at him.

“I wanted to, em, apologize, I guess? Actually, no, not I guess. I am sorry. And I want to apologize for how I treated ya in the past. You know, for all the shitty things I said and did.”

You must be dreaming.

Surely, you’re dreaming.

There’s no way that the Jamie Tartt, famed football star and resident asshole, is apologizing to you. Some random female assistant coach on a team he’d once laughed at for existing? Yeah. Not possible.

But… it’s either that or he’s taking the piss out of you.

Whatever it is, the shock fades in seconds and is quickly replaced by an indescribable amount of anger. 

Because, honestly? Screw him. Screw him for thinking he could walk in here, say sorry and it’d all be okay. After all that he did.

“You’re sorry?” You ask, pointing at him.

He nods, slowly. 

“That’s funny,” is what you end up saying, letting out a snort as he blinks at you in surprise. “You sure didn’t seem sorry all those times you laughed at me when I tried to coach you. What was it you used to say?” You quirk a brow at him as his face falls, the hopeful glint that you’d accept his apology fading from his eyes as you laugh at him. “Oh, that’s right! That I wasn’t meant to be a coach because I’m a woman and rather, I should just look pretty and help make you look good. And if it wasn’t you belittling me for my job, it was you trying to get in my pants and then laughing about it as if that’s some sort of joke.”

You finish your rant with a huff, shoulders rising and falling heavily as Jamie continues to stare back at you.

You hadn’t really realized how much his comments had truly hurt until that moment. Or, rather, you’d pushed them down so far to the back of your mind that it had been bubbling up until this very moment where he tries to apologize offhandedly like that was going to somehow make things better.

“I may have only known you for a little bit before you left us for Manchester, Jamie,” you add, voice considerably calmer as you frown at him. “But you sure left an impression. And one little apology is not gonna make up for the amount of times I went home crying and feeling worthless, because of you.”

Jamie doesn’t say anything. His lips part like he means to you, but he ends up just gaping at you like a goldfish, looking rather stupid, before there’s a light knock on the door and you’re pulled from your thoughts only to find Sam poking his head into the office. He looks concerned, eyeing Jamie out of the corner of his eye with a certain edge, before turning to you.

Biting your lip, you blink, hating the way your vision blurs and quickly you wipe at your face before any tears can fall.

You refused to cry in front of Jamie.

“Just a second, Sam,” you call, offering him a small, somewhat forced smile. You turn to your desk, grabbing your bag and doing a quick survey to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything before promptly pushing your way past Jamie and slipping past Sam. He sets a hand on your back to guide you forward, blocking you from Jamie’s view and you don’t see it, but just before Sam turns to walk away himself, he’s sending Jamie a rather nasty glare.

The message is clear; leave her alone.

-

The next morning there’s a vase of flowers sitting on your desk.

Nate is eyeing them when you walk in, before he blinks at the sight of you and quickly turns away as if afraid you caught him staring. You just blink at him, before looking at the flowers once more.

Poking your head out to the main office, you gesture over your shoulder; “where’d the flowers come from?”

Beard raises his hands in a silent gesture that they’re not from him, before your gaze falls to Ted.

“Don’t look at me,” he shrugs. “You’d know if I got you flowers,” he winks with a light chuckle and rolling your eyes as you make your way to your desk. There’s a card in front of the vase and as you take a seat, you take the card, flipping it open.

All that’s written on it is the name of the flowers; Lily of the Valley.

Frowning, you let your eyes wander across the white flowers, leaning forward to smell them and letting your eyes fall shut at the sweet scent. 

Only thing is, who sent them?

Leaning back on your chair, you peek into the locker room, trying to see who of the players is there. There’s not too many. There’s Sam, but you walked in with him so you know it’s not him, also he most likely would’ve just given them to you if he was going to get you a bouquet of flowers. Isaac’s there, but you doubt he’d give them to you. Richard and Dani are there, but they're much too forward to try and secretly give you flowers.

And then your eyes fall on Jamie. He’s already looking at you, but he’s quick to glance away the second your eyes fall on him, his cheeks turning a bit red.

Your brows furrow.

It couldn’t–

“Apparently, Lily of the Valley symbolizes apology. Specifically when one doesn’t know how to apologize.” Nate explains, reading off of his phone, the card from your desk in his other hand, before he glances at you with a curious smile. “I wonder who wanted to apologize to you?”

You glance at Nate, before the flowers, before peeking back at Jamie who’s tying the laces of his boots, pointedly not glancing up.

Moving back towards your desk, you stare at the flowers a moment longer.

What the actual hell.

-

“Oh, just–”

Before you can properly register the voice, a blur of blue is suddenly in front of you, opening the door you’d been about to open yourself before your hand can even reach for the handle.

Slowly your eyes flicker upwards to fall on Jamie as he stands beside you, holding the door wide open, a rather proud smile plastered onto his face.

“There ya go,” he offers, head tilting towards the door. “Ladies first.”

Quirking a brow, you nod at Jamie slowly, stepping through the door while you try to fight the smile that threatens to curl onto your lips.

“Smooth, Tartt,” you offer over your shoulder.

He grins back at you, nodding at you.

You can’t help the laugh, however, when instead of stepping through the door like you expected (assuming he’d only done it cause he needed something from here in the first place), he lets the door shut with a goofy wave, leaving you alone in the room.

Pausing, you shake your head.

That was new.

-

“And you, Coach?”

It takes you half a second to realize Jamie is talking to you and you only really realize it because Ted, Beard and Nate are all looking at you, waiting.

Blinking, you swallow thickly, eyes falling back on the team only to see they’re all staring at you as well, also waiting. Your eyes fall on Jamie and he’s smiling at you, happy and all teeth as he rocks on his feet, patiently waiting for you to say anything you might or might not have to say.

It’s not like the rest of the team hadn’t ever asked you for your opinion or if you had any pointers. And of course Ted made sure to consistently ask for your suggestions, wanting to make sure you felt your voice was heard and included.

As the only female coach for a male’s football team, you’d managed to find yourself an incredible group of boys who listened to you despite your gender and actively made sure to try out anything you suggested.

But never had you ever had all their attention like you do in that moment. All of them just standing there, solely focused on you.

And that was because of Jamie.

Biting your lip, you shuffle on your feet. “Oh, well… I–”

But your voice is shaky and you’re not sure how to say what you want, but as your eyes flicker back over to Jamie he’s still grinning at you, smile never wavering and he’s sending you a thumbs up.

As if to say; you got this.

And then the words just seem to pour from your lips after that.

-

The addition of Roy Kent to the line up of coaches is both positive and negative.

And really, it isn’t negative for anyone but yourself. Not that having Roy on the team was negative, just, well… It was already hard enough being the only women assistant coach with two other men, but now you were competing with three men and Roy was nothing if not an intimidating and commandeering addition to the team.

His desk had been squished in between yours and Nate’s and while the man was lovely, if not a little aggressive, by the end of his first day you found yourself drained and feeling like a fool. Roy wasn’t just another man, but he was a previous football star himself; he had the on field experience to back up his suggestions and he knew what he was talking about so that when he did say something, no one really batted an eye to his suggestions.

Or, at least, questioned them.

Worst part was you liked Roy. Sure he swore a lot, and sometimes he’d grunt instead of replying to you but before he’d had to leave the team, he’d always listened to your suggestions with an open mind and never made you or the suggestions feel less just because it was a woman saying them. He was an absolute sweetheart underneath all of the gruff, and you knew him outside of work quite well as well because he was dating Keeley.

So, with the jealousy that you couldn’t help but have, you also felt extremely guilty. 

“Are… Are you alrigh’?”

Gasping, you sit up at the voice, panicked eyes glancing around until you settle on Jamie.

“Jesus, Tartt,” you breathe, pressing a hand to your chest as you shake your head. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” he offers with a light laugh. “I didn’ mean to.”

“It’s fine,” you sigh, letting yourself relax once more as you slump against the wall behind you, pulling your knees closer to yourself. “I just thought I was alone. Didn’t think anyone would come wandering in here.”

Jamie steps into the room at that, letting the door shut behind him as he nods. “Saw you come in ‘ere,” he explains, taking a seat across from you. “Wanted to make sure you were alrigh’”

Shaking your head, you brush him off; “I'm fine.”

“You, um… you sure?”

Turning to Jamie, he’s staring back at you in a way that tells you he doesn’t believe you. He’s got a concerned look in his eyes and he’s fidgeting with his fingers, his knee rocking nervously as he tries to find the words to say.

Sighing, you shake your head; “it’s stupid.”

“Not when it comes to ya.”

Blinking, you turn to Jamie, lips parted in surprise. Except, he doesn’t seem shocked by what he said or embarrassed. He continues to stare back at you with that concerned look in his gaze, patiently waiting for you to explain what’s going on.

“It’s just… It’s hard,” you start, struggling to find the words. How do you explain to him, not only a man but the same man that used to belittle you for the exact same thing you’re feeling self conscious about, that you feel like you’re being tested in your own job everyday just because you’re a woman? You weren’t sure he’d understand. And honestly, although you’ve seen the changes in him and regrettably started to believe them, you weren’t positive he wouldn’t just laugh at you for it anyways.

And yet, you continue to speak.

“Being what I am at my job,” you add, eyeing him carefully.

Jamie frowns. “Being a woman?”

Inhaling sharply, you nod; “yeah. I know Ted and the rest of the guys would never belittle me or make me feel less because I am, but… It’s just hard being the only woman coach for a team of men. Even if you guys don’t mean to, and I know you don’t, you all naturally gravitate towards Ted and the guys more than you do me.”

Lips parting, Jamie stares back at you.

Avoiding his gaze, you glance down at your lap. “Makes me doubt myself sometimes.”

“Oh.”

Nodding, you pull at a thread on your pants. “Yeah. Oh.”

Silence follows and you feel ten times more uncomfortable as the seconds pass. You can still feel Jamie’s gaze on you, watching, waiting, maybe trying to find something to say, and it’s making you feel more and more embarrassed as time goes. 

Shaking your head, you suddenly move to a stand.

“Anyways, it’s late so you should–”

“I think yer an amazing coach.”

Lips left parted, you turn, only to find Jamie suddenly standing in front of you.

“You make great strategy plays, you are undeniably smart about the terminology and nobody cares about the wellbeing of the team more than you,” he continues, his gaze never once faltering. “You cheer us on and never ever make us feel like we’re doing something wrong or stupid for askin’ for help. I know it feels like we listen to the guys more, but every single one of us leans on your advice heavily and we’d be lost without yer support and guidance.”

Eyes widening, you don’t realize it until you blink that you’re crying.

Your hand falls to your cheek, feeling wetness.

“Shit,” Jamie curses and your eyes fall back on him. “I didn’t mean to make ya cry, I just–”

Your arms wound around him before he can finish, pulling him flush against you as you press your head into the crook of his neck. Jamie freezes at the touch, body tensing but just for a second before he eases, his own arms coming around to wrap around you in return.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him, “I… Thank you so much.”

“O-Of course,” he murmurs, voice low and you can feel his chest rumble against your cheek. “I just… thought ya should know.”

Biting your lip, you pull back at that, quickly wiping the tears off your cheeks as you step away from him. Jamie lets you go with ease, both of your cheeks red, yours burning when you realize you’d not only just flung yourself at him but you’d gotten his shirt wet with your tears.

“I.. I’m sorry,” you whisper, gesturing to his chest. “I didn’t mean to cry on you.”

Jamie shrugs; “no worries, love.”

Meeting his eyes, the two of you stare at each other for a moment, before you’re quickly stepping past him. “Anyways, I should… I should go.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Me… Me too.”

Reaching for the door, you glance back at him; “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Nodding, Jamie grins down at you; “see you tomorrow.”

-

“We’ve got a problem.”

Both Keeley and Rebecca turn to you at your words, whatever they’d been saying promptly getting cut off the second they see the panic on your face.

Rushing you inside, they settle on either side of you on Rebecca’s couch in her office, Keeley’s arm wrapped around your waist and Rebecca offering you a cup of tea as they turn to you with concerned eyes.

“Okay, lay it out,” Rebecca says, “what’s wrong and who do I have to fire?”

Letting out a light laugh, you shake your head. “You don’t have to fire anyone.”

“Good,” she nods, “because I didn’t want to fire anyone.”

Rolling your eyes teasingly, you take a sip of your tea before reaching forward to set it on the table.

“Okay, then, babes,” Keeley speaks up, frowning at you, “then what’s the matter? You came in here looking like something horrible’s happened.”

Letting out a groan, you press your hands to your face; “that’s because something horrible has happened.”

“What?” Keeley presses, squeezing your arm.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitate a moment, eyeing the both of them, before you whisper in shame; “I think I fancy Jamie.”

There’s a beat of silence, before;

“Like Tartt?” Keeley asks, eyes widening in absolute surprise. “Jamie Tartt? Our Jamie Tartt?”

“Like on my team Richmond, Jamie Tartt?” Rebecca adds, pointing at herself before gesturing to her office.

Cheeks burning, you hide your face in your hands again. “Yes.”

Keeley and Rebecca eye each other for a moment, before Rebecca’s pulling your hands away from your face.

“Y/N.”

You just shake your head, trying to grab a pillow to further hide yourself.

“Babes, stop,” Keeley laughs lightly. “Explain to us why you fancy Jamie.”

“Yeah,” Rebecca encourages. “It’s alright.”

Hands falling to your lap with a huff, you frown. “It’s all his fault,” you whine. “Because he’s trying to be better now and I can’t handle that. Before, you know, when he was a prick, that’s just it! He was a prick. And I’m sorry Keeley for saying this but I always found him a little attractive.”

Snorting, Keeley shakes his head; “babes, why do you think I dated him?”

Biting your lip, you sigh. “But he was awful, right?” She nods and Rebecca snorts, clearly feeling that’s an understatement. “And when he came back, I was so mad. Mad because he was so mean and laughed at me and belittled me for being a woman, and not to mention he was terrible to the whole team. Like when he used to bully Nate or hog the ball and never give Sam a chance to show his skill.”

They both nod to your words.

“So I was upset. Upset because he was back and because Ted didn’t tell me or ask me how I felt. And I said to myself that this whole apology thing was just an act and he’d go right back to being his old self in a few days. I was proud of myself too because when he tried to apologize, I didn’t let him.” Keeley squeezes your arm at that and Rebecca smiles proudly. “But then the next day I came in and he bought my flowers!”

Their eyes widen.

“He did?”

“Yeah,” you nod at Keeley. “A big bouquet of Lily of the Valley and you know what Lily of the Valley symbolizes?”

Keeley shakes her head and Rebecca sighs, shoulders falling. “Apology,” she explains for you. “You give them to someone you hurt and don’t know how to apologize to.”

Keeley’s lips part in disbelief; “I never got fucking Lily of the Valley’s.”

Sinking into the couch, you cry out; “exactly! And then he starts opening doors for me and helping me pack things up… he’s listening to me in practice when he never used to, deliberately asking for my opinion after practice after the rest of the coaches have said their pieces. He tells the rest of the team to shut up if he feels they’re not listening to me and he asks me for pointers alone so he can get better. And! God! I was upset and he made this whole big speech about how amazing a coach I am and how the team appreciates me and shit and then I hugged him and cried on him and he didn’t laugh at me or make me feel like shit. He… he was actually really fucking sweet.”

The second you’re done ranting, Keeley and Rebecca glance at each other, before coming to the same conclusion.

“Well,” Keeley says hesitantly. “It definitely sounds like you fancy him.”

Pulling at your hair, you let out a cry. 

“No, no,” Rebecca shakes her hand, pulling your hands away from your face and holding them safely in her own. “It’s fine, love. Jamie has really turned himself around.”

“He has,” Keeley is quick to agree. “I mean, he never did any of that stuff for me and we were already in a relationship.”

“But it isn’t fine,” you argue, shaking your head. “Because he’s Jamie Tartt, and he’s fucking fit and now he’s nice too… and he’s a star football player and I’m just Y/N Y/L/N, some random assistant female coach on a team of male football players. No one knows me and I’m not special and I’m not a model or a celebrity or any of the usual types he goes for.”

“That is absolutely not true,” Rebecca says instantly, face appalled as if she can’t believe you’ve just said what you have.

“You are Y/N fucking Y/L/N.” Keeley adds, moving to grip your cheeks tightly between her hands. “The first and only female assistant coach of Richmond who has come up with more strategy plays that have helped us win than anyone else. Not to mention, you are proper fit. You are an absolutely fucking gorgeous and successful woman that Jamie would be incredibly lucky to have.”

Lips parting, you blink. Keeley and Rebecca are both looking at you in a way that leaves no room for arguments and feeling your eyes water, you pout; “you mean that?”

“Of course I fucking mean that.”

“Y/N,” Rebecca calls, squeezing your hands tightly. “I am so proud of you and the woman that you are and incredibly lucky to have you as a coach for my team. I know that, Keeley knows that, the team knows that and it looks like Jamie is aware of that more than anyone else. I know it’s hard to leave yourself vulnerable like this, but at least give him a shot.”

Biting your lip, you meet her eyes, finding the reassurance in them you needed before you glance over at Keeley who is grinning widely, nodding.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Okay.”

-

You’d believed what Rebecca and Keeley said.

Of course you did because you know they’d never lie to you.

And you’d promised them you’d give Jamie a chance before simply believing there’s no way he’d like you. But promising and doing was a lot different, and it’s hard to find the chance to say anything to him over the next few days.

The whole team is anxious because of the game against Manchester City coming up, especially since the last time they’d played them, it was the match that had gotten them regulated. Adding even more to that, Jamie had been on the Manchester team when that had happened and even though you know he’d made great strides towards making up with the team since coming back to Richmond, he was just anxious as the rest of them.

For a multitude of reasons you didn’t understand.

So, there wasn’t a chance to say anything.

And there certainly wasn’t one now that they’d lost. You’d briefly wondered to yourself that if they won, maybe you could run to Jamie and just confess your feelings then, thick in the adrenaline of it all. Like they did in the movies. All sweet and romantic.

Only, Richmond hadn’t won and you certainly weren’t going to now.

Especially when you were just as disappointed as the rest of them.

You’re speaking with Ted and Roy in the locker room when Jamie’s father comes in, and any conversation you’d been having falls silent the second he does.

You watch in stunned silence as Jamie’s father makes an embarrassment of himself, laughing and joking as he makes fun of the team's loss before zeroing in on Jamie himself. He says the cruelest things, and everything clicks in that moment why Jamie was the way that he was before he’d left Richmond.

And when Jamie punches his father straight across the face, you jump and your hands fall to your lips but you’re not shocked and you don’t think Jamie is wrong either.

No one says anything and no one does anything as Beard drag’s Jamie’s father out of the locker room and Jamie stands there, still standing in a defensive position. You want to do something, you want to say something, but you don’t think it’s your place. And you don’t know if Jamie would even feel all that much comfort with having you do anything.

Roy steps past you in the next second, taking Jamie into his arms and he loses it then, his sobs echoing throughout the otherwise silent room.

Ted runs past you at one point, but you don’t notice, eyes stuck on that of Jamie and Roy.

Then, Roy’s pulling away, but Jamie’s still got tears in his eyes, pressing his hand to his eyes as he tries to hide away. Suddenly, Roy’s eyes are on you, and he’s smiling in a knowing way, before promptly kicking everyone else out of the room. Your eyes widen as he does, body tensing in panic as Roy nods at you just before shutting the door behind him, leaving just you and Jamie in the room alone.

You can hear him sniffling to himself, a small sob breaking past his lips as you stand there, feeling out of place and like you’re stepping past his boundaries. So, slowly, you step towards him. “I can, uh, leave too if you’d like some–”

“No,” is all Jamie says before he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you tightly as he presses his face into the crook of your neck. You freeze at the action at first, unsure what to do or say, before slowly your body eases, and your arms are raising, hands falling to his back as you squeeze him tightly.

He clutches onto you, sobbing into your neck, and you let him wordlessly, rubbing his back in smooth, slow patterns in a way you hope is comforting.

And the two of you stay like that for a while.

-

Your relationship from then on changes.

More than it already had.

You find yourself willingly hanging out with him when you would’ve avoided it otherwise before. Jamie always seems to be there, lending a helping hand or letting you talk his ear off about something or another.

The two of you never really spoke about what had happened in that locker room but you didn’t need to. It went without saying. You understood Jamie in a way that you hadn’t before, and although it didn’t excuse it, it made sense why he’d been the way had been before and it showed him trying to be better meant a lot more than it had before.

So, the season ends, and you watch the changes Jamie’s doing with a smile and a completely different attitude. When he gives Dani the shot, or when he joins in on team chants before matches. He’s still arrogant and cocky, but it’s in a more loveable way than it had been before, and now when he comes in every morning wearing his stupid ICON hat and dumb sunglasses, you can barely hide the smile that curls onto your lips.

Or the way that despite him wearing such stupid things, you think he looks ridiculously hot.

The season ends and then the new one starts up with one less coach after Nate had left only to join West Ham. It had certainly been a betrayal and you’d be lying if you said it hadn’t hurt. You’d always felt like Nate had understood you in a way maybe some of the others didn’t and the two of you had shared that office alone for so long that you couldn’t help the way you’d cried when you’d realized what he’d done.

Jamie holds you through it. 

A soft, gentle and comforting presence that never makes you feel silly for feeling so hurt and betrayed and for that, you’re eternally grateful.

Suddenly, Jamie is someone you can’t live without. You look forward to every morning you see him walk into the locker room, and you find yourself texting him at night, unable to stop the giddy feeling that floods you every time you hear your phone ding and see it’s him calling or texting you.

Keeley and Rebecca tease you all whilst constantly trying to get you to confess. You always say that you will, but you never do.

You’re mad for him, that you know but you don’t know if he’s mad for you and you don’t want to ruin the relationship the two of you have built just because of your stupid feelings. It was nice having him as a friend, and although every time you saw him you just wanted to kiss him, you didn’t want to lose that friendship either.

So you never say anything.

-

“So, I would suggest just–”

“Y/N–?”

Lips left parted at the sound of Sam, you turn to him as he pokes his head into the office. He freezes when he sees Jamie standing behind you, the two of you going over one of his plays, your hand left held with the whiteboard marker and he winces. “I’m so sorry. I did not mean to interrupt you two.”

Jamie is waving his hand in reassurance as you smile at Sam, letting your hand fall; “it’s fine, Sam. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be able to drive you home tonight,” he explains, chancing a quick glance at Jamie before focusing back on you. “I have to run by the restaurant before heading home and I’m not sure how long it will take.”

“Oh,” you blink, shaking your head. “It’s fine, Sam. I can walk home tonight. It’s no problem.” Then, cheekily, you can’t help but add; “as long as when you finally do let me see your restaurant, everything is on the house.”

Laughing, Sam shakes his head; “it already was. And for you,” he points at you with a grin, “it’ll always be.”

Smilingly, you nod, waving him goodbye as he does the same, slipping out of the office. You laugh quietly to yourself as he does, before turning to find Jamie’s eyes on you, and you blink; “sorry,” you offer bashfully. “Where were we–”

“I didn’t know Sam drove you home?”

Pausing, you shift back to face Jamie. “Oh, yeah. He saw that I was walking home one night, offered me a drive and it’s been like that since.”

Jamie nods, slowly. “You two are close.”

“Um, yeah?” You agree with a shrug. “Sam is easy to talk to, I guess. Super friendly and kind.”

“Hm,” Jamie hums lightly. “He does look like he’d make a good boyfriend.”

It takes you half a second to register what Jamie’s said both because you feel that’s a weird observation for Jamie to make and also because when in that conversation did you say he was your boyfriend?

“We’re not dating,” you explain, shaking your head as you laugh. “We’re just friends.”

Jamie’s eyes widen, cheeks warming in faint embarrassment but… is that a hint of relief you see? Probably not, you’re just psyching yourself out.

“Oh.”

Nodding, you bite your lip; “yeah.”

“Cool,” Jamie hums and you raise a brow at him, before turning back to the whiteboard.

“Did you wanna…?”

Jamie is quick to agree, shifting on his feet to put his focus back on what you were saying before Sam had stepped in. But then, just as your lips part to continue, Jamie is interrupting you;

“I could drive you home.”

He says it so nonchalantly you think you imagine him saying it at first.

You glance at him over your shoulder, and he turns to you.

“If you’d like.”

“Um,” and you hate the way your voice shakes or the nerves that rattle your entire being. “Sure… Sure, that’d… that’d be great. If you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he assures with a grin. “Why would I mind having a pretty girl in me car?”

Cheeks burning you quickly glance back ahead of yourself to not let him see how much that simple comment made your heart flutter and your insides feel like jelly. Inhaling sharply, it’s hard to fight the smile from curling onto your lips as you move to continue saying what you’d been trying to say before.

You’re so focused that you don’t see Jamie watching you, a grin curling onto his own lips when he sees how flustered you are.

-

“Pretty coach.”

Halting in your step, you glance up, only to have to crane your head upwards when you find Zava, the star player Rebecca had managed to score, staring down at you. He’s tall, very tall, and you’re not exactly sure why he’s here, in the middle of the hall, or why he’s talking to you.

“Zava,” you greet nervously, offering a small smile.

He’s stepping towards you, effectively closing the distance between you as your eyes widen, freezing when he reaches forward to take your hand in his own. Before you know it, he’s pressing his lips against the top of your hand, a gentle, swift kiss as he glances at you through his lashes, smirking.

“I look forward to working under you as my coach,” he explains, accent thick as he pulls his lips away. It doesn’t escape your notice that he doesn’t let go of your hand, though.

“Oh, um, me–me too. But you’ll mainly be working under Coach Lasso since he’s the head–...”

Your words trail when you realize he’s not really listening. He’s just… staring. Directly at you.

Swallowing thickly, with your free hand, you touch your face; “is there something on my–”

“Oh no, no,” he laughs gently, squeezing your hand. “You just have the most beautiful eyes.”

Feeling yourself warm, you meet his eyes in surprise before glancing down at your feet, “oh, um, thank–”

“Oi.”

The new voice is sharp and your head is spinning over your shoulder only to see Jamie promptly making his way over to you. You’re surprised by how angry he looks, but his attention isn’t focused on you and rather Zava as he quickly makes his way over, pulling your hand out of Zava’s and gently pushing you behind him as he blocks you from sight from Zava. You flush when you realize Jamie’s still holding onto your hand, before slowly peeking over his shoulder.

“Tartt,” Zava grins, “it’s wonderful to see you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jamie huffs. “Just keep your hands to yourself, okay?”

Raising his hands in surrender, Zava laughs, stepping back as he moves to walk away. His eyes catch yours and he winks at you before turning to walk off.

“Prick.” Jamie hisses under his breath.

You pause at that, turning to him only to see his eyes set in a glare, watching Zava disappear down the hall before you let out a giggle. Jamie’s eyes fall on you the second you do, gaze softening when he sees you giggling.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you smile, biting your lip as you glance up at him. “Just funny. You're calling him a prick.”

Jamie’s eyes widen in mock hurt; “he is!”

“Sure,” you shrug. “And so were you.”

“But not anymore,” he teases, rolling his eyes at you.

“True,” you agree, shocking him by how easily you do. You just continue to smile at him, “definitely not anymore.”

Jamie stares down at you, eyes never leaving your face. “He’s right about one thing, though.”

Quirking a brow, you tilt your head; “yeah? And what’s that?”

“You do have the most beautiful eyes.”

That was the last thing you expected.

Lips parting, you’re burning red as you promptly slap Jamie in the arm.

“Ow!” He hisses, pulling away as his hand (regrettably) leaves yours. “What was that for?”

You just stare back at him, pouting, embarrassed, hoping he can’t hear how fast your heart is beating.

Or notice that the way he said it meant way more than it did coming from Zava.

“Prick.”

Jamie just blinks, pouting; “what did I do?”

-

You let out a laugh as Jamie comes running up on the bus cheering about seeing Windmills, shaking your head with a grin as the rest of the guys cheer him on.

He walks down the aisle, high fiving a few of the guys until his eyes settle on you. Leaning your head against the seat, you grin cheekily up at him. “Did you have a fun night?” You ask with a head tilt, biting the inside of your cheek.

Smiling down at you, Jaime nods; “yeah, you?”

“Perfect,” you assure. “Spent a quiet night in my room.”

“The boys didn’t keep ya company?” He frowns, and he looks like he’s about to say something before you quickly reach forward, grabbing his wrist.

“That was team bonding stuff, silly,” you roll your eyes. “Besides, I had the most relaxing bath. It was fine.”

He glances down at you, not saying anything, but you feel your chest tighten when you see the way his eyes glance across your entire figure at the word bath.

Ignoring the butterflies, you smile; “saved you a seat, see?” You gesture to the empty window seat next to you, and Jamie laughs.

“You want the window seat?”

“Yup,” you grin, shuffling over to the other side as Jamie takes your old spot. You settle down next to him, arm brushing against his as he grins over at you.

“You got lots of training done last night?”

Jamie nods, “yup. Taugh’ Roy how to ride a bike.”

Brows furrowing, you briefly wonder how that happened in the midst of training but you let it go all the same, shrugging as you laugh. “But you made sure to get some rest, yes?” You add, turning to him with a quirked brow. “Because you remember what I said about training? If you push yourself too hard, you’re not going–”

“–to help anyone,” he finishes for you with a chuckle. “Yes, I remember.”

“Good,” you nod, squeezing his arm. 

“And you?”

Blinking, you turn to him.

“Did you get some rest last night?”

You nod, touched by his concern. “Yeah,” you assure, “like I said, spent the night in my room, resting.”

“Good,” he repeats your words from earlier and you turn your head away to the window when you feel yourself smiling.

Yet, despite that, an hour later, you’ve passed out on Jamie’s very own shoulder, softly snoring away.

Jamie is careful not to move, not wanting to wake you up, but when Dani turns to take a photo excitedly, he doesn’t stop him.

“Hey,” he whispers to Dani, “send that to me, okay?”

-

“You need to talk to Jamie.”

Raising a brow, you glance up at Roy.

“...I do?”

“He’s a mess,” is all Roy says.

“Okay…?”

“And you need to talk to him.”

Biting your lip, you hum; “because?”

Huffing, Roy rolls his eyes like you’re the one being annoying. “Because you’re the only one he’ll listen to, so you need to talk to him and get him out of whatever funk he’s in.”

“Okay,” you nod, “I’ll talk to him.”

-

You don’t get the chance to talk to him until you’ve arrived at the hotel the night before the game and even then it’s not really you talking to him.

The movie you’d all watched together is over and Ted had set a curfew but Jamie is taking your hand in his, throwing his hood up and leading you out of the hotel without another word. You glance over your shoulder to see Roy glancing at you in confusion, but you just shrug your shoulders and then Keeley is sending you two thumbs up with a bright grin and before you know it, you both are out the hotel and making your way across the street.

You let him lead, expecting him to say something, but he never really does. He’s eerily silent the entire walk, and it isn't until twenty minutes have passed that you finally tug on his grip and pull him to a stop. He glances back at you in surprise but you’re just shaking your head up at him, confused.

“If this is your way of getting me alone to murder me, I’m going to be really upset.”

He blinks at your words, confused at first, before he shakes his head. “No, no… of course not. I… I want you to meet someone.”

“Oh,” you mumble, feeling yourself ease as you meet his gaze. He’s staring back at you, obviously waiting for you to agree and with a gentle smile, you nod.

“Okay.”

It’s his mom.

He wanted you to meet his mom. 

You’re confused, extremely so, as Jamie leads you up the steps to a house, knocks and some older gentleman opens the door. He recognizes Jamie and invites the both of you in, and you’re left standing in the entrance way, baffled as you hug your coat closer to yourself, until a woman comes running down the stairs, screaming Jamie’s name and then suddenly she’s in his arms and he’s spinning her and calling her ‘mommy’ and it all clicks.

You can't help the smile that curls onto your lips at the sight, feeling like you’re being allowed to see a side of Jamie others rarely were.

And when Jamie introduces you to his mom, the smile turns into shock when she says; “you’re the one Jamie’s told me so much about!” And before you even have time to register those words or see Jamie glancing at you, she’s wrapping you up in her arms and hugging you so tightly as she gushes about how much she’s wanted to meet you.

You spend the night being welcomed by his mother and her boyfriend, before you leave Jamie to have his much needed conversation with his mom. Simon shows you around the house, before leaving you to glance around Jamie’s childhood bedroom yourself. You all but squeal at his Roy Kent poster, before rolling your eyes at Keeley’s, but happily glance round the rest of the room. You look at all his trophies and childhood photos, little drawings he’d done or books he’d read.

Before you know it, Jamie’s poking his head into the room and calling for you.

“Oh, Jamie,” you smile, “are you all done catching up with your mom?”

He nods, “yeah, you wanna get out of here? Go back to the hotel?”

“Sure,” you agree with ease, stepping toward him. He sets his hand against your back, leading you back towards the door where you say your final goodbyes. You thank Simon for the tour and give Georgie a huge hug, expressing how happy you were to meet her before she makes you promise you’ll come by and visit again.

You’re not quite sure how to reply to that, but it’s okay because Jamie does it for you, promising the two of you will stop by for an actual dinner soon.

And then, it’s just the two of you, making your way back to the hotel.

“So,” you call out, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “You told your mum about me?”

Jamie rolls his eyes at that, huffing. “Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

That certainly isn’t the response you were expecting, so, with warm cheeks, you glance at your feet.

“Got it all sorted now?”

Jamie hums, “yup. Sorry if I worried ya.”

You shake your head. “Think you had Roy in more of a panic, if I’m being honest. Poor man couldn’t breathe, he was so worried.”

Jamie snorts at that, lightly nudging you with his arm. “So, ya weren’ worried at all?”

Turning your head, your smile fades as you meet his gaze. “No, I was. I just didn’t want to overstep.”

“You could never overstep,” Jamie assures, “I should’ve been open about how I was feelin’. Just needed to sort it out for meself.”

Smiling softly to yourself, you hug your hands behind your back. “Well, I’m glad you figured it all out, Jamie. Really. Now you can kick some serious ass tomorrow, yeah?” You’re smiling as you say it, nudging him back with your own arm as the two of you continue to walk.

Then, suddenly, Jamie stops.

Frowning, you glance back at him; “are you–?”

“Me mum helped me with somethin’ else.”

“Oh,” you mumble, not sure where he was going with this. “What’s that?”

“Said I should stop being such a pussy and tell you how I really feel.”

Lips parting, you freeze. “Oh.”

Jamie nods, slow, and you can tell he’s nervous by the way he’s shuffling on his feet. “So… here goes.”

Your eyes widen when he steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you until he’s right in front of you, inches away. Your eyes follow him, head tilted back as you stare up at him, unsure what to do or say. But you don’t need to, because Jamie is speaking up in the next second.

“I’m in love with ya,” he confesses, letting the words just slip past his lips. “I’ve been in love with ya since you hugged me after me dad in Wembley. Maybe before that, I dunno. All I know is that when I came back to Richmond, all I was focused on was makin’ everyone like me again and then you yelled at me that day in yer office and I realized it was more than that. It wasn’t just about makin’ people like me, but makin’ up for the cruel things I'd done. I’m so sorry for the way I treated ya before, but I want you to know that I think the absolute world of ya. You are kind and sweet and smart and proper fit and… I dunno, you might not feel the same but I don’t wanna go on another day not having you know how crazy I am for ya.”

His words settle, carry on in the silence, as you stare back up at him, lips left parted, disbelief coursing through your veins.

Jamie’s confidence wavers as the silence carries and he’s shuffling on his feet in worry as he swallows thickly. “You don’t have to say anythin’,” he assures, rambling now with nerves. “I just wanted ya to know, so–”

But you cut him off by pressing your lips firmly against his own.

Jamie stumbles back from the pure force of the kiss at first, before he catches his balance and the shock fades and his hands are falling on your waist as he squeezes, returning the kiss with just as much passion. Maybe more. He kisses you like he’s been waiting to do this for weeks, and you realize, he maybe has. He holds you like you're the only thing in that moment that matters and you let yourself sink into his touch, turning to putty in his hands as you thread your fingers through his hair.

Then, slowly, you pull away, breathless as he smiles down at you.

“I love you too,” you whisper, “since the day you left me those flowers.”

Jamie’s eyes widen and his lips part but you don’t have the care to be embarrassed by your confession; it just felt good to finally, finally be able to say the words out loud.

“And I am so excited to see you kick ass tomorrow.” You breathe out, pressing your hands to his cheeks as you smile up at him, eyes dazed and sparkling with delight. 

Pressing his forehead against yours, Jamie presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

“And I can’t wait to see you kick ass tomorrow.”

[buckychristwrites]

About You | Masterlist | j.t. |

A Completed Series

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: Your job? Pop culture journalist for The Independent. Your assignment? To write a profile on the cocky footballer that you’re publicly feuding with.

Warnings: Lots of cussing. Some angst. Some fluff. Enemies to lovers

A/N: I’ve never written for Jamie before so i hope I do him justice. Enjoy! :)

Prologue

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Day 6

Day 7

Day 8

Day 9

Day 10

Day 11

Day 12

Epilogue

[axelsagewrites]

Roy Kent*Future Mrs Gramma

Pairing: roy x f!reader, bestie!jamie x platonic reader

Word count: 1240

Warnings: drinking, angry roy, swearing

Masterlist Here

You and Jamie were the type of friends that wouldn’t see ach other for weeks, months even, then as soon as the other came into sight you were barrelling into their arms for a hug and to jump right back into your last conversation. So, when Jamie found out you were moving to London, only a ten-minute drive from his work no less, he was ecstatic to say the least.

As much as you loved Jamie you never particularly cared about football which weirdly made your friendship better but after Jamie had come round for drinks at your new flat in your drunken haze you decided it was a great idea to go down to Richmond to continue the celebrations. It only took 20 quid and a questionable grounds keeper to get in and soon you were drinking in the stands with your best friend.

“I’m on top of the world!” Jamie half screamed, standing on top of the seat beside where you sat.

You giggled as you hauled yourself up to stand on the seat next to him, “Woohoo!”

-

The sun light pierced your skull as your eyes slowly began to drag themselves open. The piercing ring of a whistle burned your ear as you pulled yourself up. Looking around you remembered where you were. Fuck. You and Jamie must’ve fallen asleep last night lying on the ground in a row of seats at least 15 rows back. On the upside this meant the footballers on the pitch couldn’t see you as they practised but, on the downside, they were already here!?

“Pst, Jamie,” you whispered as you shoved at the lump whose head had been lying opposite of yours. Jamie just mumbled something as he rolled on his side. Almost as if fate you could hear a very deep, and very angry voice yell “where the fuck is Tartt?”

“Get up,” you gritted your teeth, holding back gagging as you tried to both nurse your hangover and wake up the log beside you. you sighed before pinching his nose.

Jamie began to flap, swatting at your hands, before managing to sit up and out of your grip, “What the fuck man?” he yelled before his eyes fell to the pitch, “Fuck,” he mumbled as you face palmed.

“Tartt!” the voice screamed, heavy footsteps following.

Thank god you were at the furthest away seats. “It was nice knowing you Jamie,” you sighed, patting his shoulder.

“You’re fucked if he catches you too, ya know?”

“Fuck,” you looked up over the seat to see a relatively built man in his 30s thundering over to the section you were in.

“Who the hell is there?” the gruff voice called out as he climbed into the stands.

It was now or never. thank god your parents forced you to do track you thought as you pulled yourself to your feet and began to book it. you heard Jamies cheers as you began to essentially jump down the rows over the seats, all while trying not to spew. The man trying to catch you paused, debating which person to chase first as Jamie took off running the other way.

Sadly, he chose you. however luckily for you he tried to chase you into the seats, and you were, somehow, faster than him despite him being a professional footballer. The number of times you and Jamie had to run away from the people he’d mouthed off to had apparently came in handy as you jumped out the stands, onto the pitch, and began to sprint.

You could hear the man start to chase you but refused to turn around, instead heading straight to the exit, screaming, “I fucking hate you Jamie!” as you ran. Somehow you made it to the parking lot with the worst stitch of your life and a snapchat from Jamie keeled over laughing at the side of the pitch.

-

You swore from then on to avoid Richmond like the plague. That was until Jamie texted you saying he needed a lift cause his car had a flat tire. as you sat in the parking lot, tapping on your steering wheel bored out your nut you heard the metal door clang as it slammed open. You looked up, half expecting to see Jamie, and instead finally seeing those angry eyes up close. “Oh fuck,”

“You!” you could see him mouth, his finger jabbing at you as you locked the car doors. He stormed over, tapping on your window.

You let it down ever so slightly, “Hello,” you said, as if nothing had happened.

“Hi,”

“Can I help you?”

“Can you fucking-I-how-I mean-you run fucking fast!” he eventually managed out prompting you to raise an eyebrow, “Aren’t you gonna roll your window down all the way?”

“Last time I saw you, you were chasing me,”

“That’s cause you and your prick boyfriend broke into the stadium,”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said, and a strange look washed over his face you couldn't quite read, “Besides he said you made him run 30 laps hungover. I think we’re even,”

This time he squinted, his weird look vanishing, “Maybe I should make you run 30 laps,”

You couldn’t help but snort at his words, “Id like to see you fucking try,” you said as a few other footballers began to walk out, all looking away when he glared at them, “Roy, right?”

“Yeah, who are you?” he asked. You figured with witnesses now he couldn’t murder you so rolled the window down all the way and stuck your hand out to introduce yourself. His shake was firm, his skin rough as sandpaper, but for some reason you were sad to let go, “Id like to say it was nice to meet you,”

“Don’t worry,” you said, turning the car on when you saw Jamie finally sauntering out, “feelings mutual,” you said before beeping your horn and leaning out the window, “Get a fucking move on mate,” you called at Jamie before ducking back into the car. “And don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson. I hate running,”

“Me too,”

You tilted your head in confusion, a trait Roy found oddly endearing, “You’re a footballer?”

“I know,” he said as if talking to a small child making you roll your eyes, “What can I say? I’m a fucking idiot,”

“Alright grampa don’t be too hard on yourself,” Jamie grinned as he climbed into the passenger seat. You however turned around and smacked his arm, “Eh! What’s that for?”

“You told me three. Its fucking almost four you twat,”

“Practise ran over! blame him,” he said, pointing at Roy who was already rolling his eyes.

“Call us even then?” you sighed, turning to Roy. He nodded and started to walk away as you put the car into first gear only to be interrupted by Roy walking back over, “You, okay?”

“Yeah, just wondering,” he paused for a second, “You gonna be at the next game?”

You glanced at Jamie whose eyes were bulging out his sockets before laughing. “Dunno, should I be?”

“Wouldn’t mind it if you were,”

“Might just come then,” you grinned, “See you around Roy,” you said but all he did was nod and step away so you could finally drive off.

Jamie groaned as you drove out the parking lot, “Oh god you’re gonna fuck a grampa,”

“Not just any grampa,” you laughed at him, “I’m gonna be your step gramma.”

Ted Lasso Taglist: @gee72sstuff

General Taglist: @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate

[wlntrsldler]

f.u.c.k | jamie tartt

based on the song f.u.c.k by victoria monet

description: pure smut. no plot.

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader

warnings: language-- it's ted lasso, what did ya expect?!; PinV! sex! smut! so dirty.

word count: 2.4K

The first time you fucked Jamie Tartt was all lust. You’ve come to learn that there was something absolutely magnetic about him. Like once you’re within his vicinity, you are pulled towards him whether you want to be or not. You tried to fight it at first, unable to get rid of the idea of who he once was from your brain, but it was no use. The more you got to know Jamie, the easier it was to fall for him, to be so intoxicated from him. He consumed your thoughts. All kinds of thoughts.

It was Ted and Beard’s going away party. Rebecca rented out Bones & Honey entirely for the team and their guests. The early part of the night was wholesome. Players gave speeches about how their lives were changed because of the two Americans and wished the coaches a safe flight. There was a three-course Michelin-star menu and an assortment of expensive and classy wines. After the meal, the open bar was introduced. 

Bones & Honey was instantly transformed into a nightclub and it became far from innocent. You found yourself sitting at the bar, sipping on your drink, with Jamie Tartt whispering in your ear, so close to you that you could feel his body heat radiating off of him.

You’d had a few drinks. You were in a good place where you felt careless enough to speak your mind but sober enough to carry on a proper conversation and to know what you want, what you need. The music was so loud that you encouraged Jamie to lean in closer so you could hear him properly. He happily obliged. 

From where he was, your sweet perfume filled his senses. Your skin was a little damp from how hot the club was with all the dancing. Jamie had a hand sprawled across your lower back, not because you needed to be steadied but because he needed to touch you. As he pulled away from your ear, he couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip. Had he extended his neck just a little bit more, his lips would’ve brushed the skin of your neck. 

You placed your drink on the counter, turning the bar chair to face him directly. Your eyes roamed his figure– strong thighs on display with the slacks he wore that hugged his bottom half perfectly, arms so sculpted that you couldn't help but run your fingers over them, and his hands that would look so, so good on you. You couldn’t help but watch the veins of his tattooed arm as he flexed his hand. You let your eyes wander upwards, stopping at his plump lips. You forgot what the conversation was about. 

Jamie’s eyes trailed down your body, having to hold back a groan when he saw you press your thighs together. His hand slowly crept to touch your exposed knee, giving an experimental squeeze before he let his hand move up. He stopped at the hem of your dress, looking up at you once more. You had this look on your face like you were fucked out and he hadn’t even touched you yet, as if the sexual tension between the two of you was enough to get you off. Jamie flared his nostrils, his slacks getting tighter by the second. He leaned toward you again, “If you don’t stop looking at my lips without doin’ anythin’ about it, I will fucking take you right here on this counter in front of everyone.” 

You smirked, placing a hand over his own that was resting on your thigh. You opened your legs a tiny bit, guiding his hand near where you wanted him, but not quite letting him get there. You placed your other hand on the side of his face as you leaned closer, “You couldn’t handle me.” 

For a split second, he was taken aback, eyes blinking while your words sunk in. Then, he smirked, extending his thumb to lightly graze your mound. You sucked in a breath at the contact. Jamie pulled his hand away and hopped off the bar stool, extending his hand for you to take. You adjusted your dress and took him up on his offer. 

Jamie placed a hand on your back, ushering you out of the bar. As you were walking out the door, Jamie pulled your back to his front. You gasped at the sudden contact, feeling him against your leg. He wrapped an arm around your torso, mouth finding the skin behind your ear. He placed a soft kiss on it, so soft you didn’t know if you just imagined it. “You’re gonna regret saying that.” 

When you got to his flat, it was like you were both done with the months of pining, sexual tension, and secret touches. Jamie unlocked the door, pulled you inside, and then his mouth was on yours. He kicked the door closed and had his hands gripping you everywhere like you were going to disappear if he didn’t. You had your fingers tangled in his hair, gently tugging, making him moan into the kiss. Your mouths were reckless and messy, but so fucking hot against each other. 

He was the first to pull away from you, the last shred of logic he had left willed him to because then, he truly didn’t care if he needed to breathe to survive. At that moment, your lips on his own were more important than anything else. Jamie fumbled with the zipper on the back of your dress as he left sloppy kisses down your neck. He inhaled your scent, groaning, unable to stop himself from grinding his hips against yours. You sighed in pleasure, arching your back to press closer to him. 

When he detached from your neck, he looked at you with eyes that nearly had you sinking to your knees without question. His eyes were wide, lust clouding his irises so much that you couldn’t recognize the color they’d become. He was panting, lips raw and red from kissing you. You saw traces of your lipgloss lingering on the side of his mouth, twinkling sinfully under the lights. You ran your thumb across his lips, trying to wipe the remnants of your mouth away from it. Jamie captured it between his lips and sucked on it, his tongue licking a stripe up the pad of your thumb. He placed a soft kiss on it before you pulled it too far from him. 

“What I wouldn’t give to see this look on your face again,” he sighed, beginning to kiss down your body. He placed a kiss on your collarbone, “And again.”

A kiss to your chest as he peeled your dress down, leaving your top half exposed, “And again.” A kiss on your boobs, nipping and biting at the soft flesh. Your skin was on fire. “And again.” 

He continued this down to your stomach. Jamie was on his knees, looking up at you pleadingly. He looked wrecked. He pulled your dress down, running his fingers over your panties as if asking if it was okay. You responded by placing a leg on his shoulder. He shuddered, reaching down his pants to adjust himself. He whimpered at the contact before returning his focus to you. 

He moved your panties to the side, whining at the way your slick looked so inviting for him. Jamie licked up your cunt, moaning into you, enjoying your taste. His cock was leaking pre-cum and it was so fucking painful, but he wasn’t going to let this moment go to waste without tasting you, feeling you. Jamie’s eyes fluttered shut when your fingers found his hair again, tugging him closer to where you needed him the most. 

“Right there, Jamie,” you panted, chest heaving. “So good for me, baby.” 

Jamie didn’t know that he could get more turned on. He was rock hard already, but hearing the pet name roll off your tongue, sounding so fucking spent, with you withering above him, made his cock twitch in his pants. He clumsily undid his zipper, pushing his slacks down to relieve himself from its confines. Jamie brought his hand back up to you. His tattooed arm was pressing down on your stomach, trying to keep you still. His other hand joined his tongue, fingers dipping inside your cunt. 

You mewled at the feeling of his fingers inside you. There were so many things happening. It felt so good. He was knuckles deep, lips wrapped around your bud when you felt that familiar knot in your belly. You pulled on his head, trying to warn him about what was coming. You were trying to give him an out just in case he didn’t want to be there when the dam broke. 

Jamie pulled away, staring at you with his face glistening with your slick. “Give it to me, baby. Want it so bad.” 

When he went back down on you, it didn’t take much to have you screaming. You were blubbering above him, crying out his name as your orgasm turned your limbs to jello. Jamie could no longer hold off. He pumped his cock just enough to relieve the pressure, but not enough to cum. He couldn’t come in his hand. He needed to come inside you. 

You pulled him up to kiss him again, sighing into his mouth when you tasted yourself on him. He led you through his hallway, picking you up so you could wrap your legs around him as he carried you up the stairs to his bedroom. You pushed yourself on him, moaning when you felt his cock prod your pussy. Your soaked panties and his thin boxers were the only things separating you from each other. 

He dropped you on his bed, not once disconnecting your lips. Jamie was on top of you, hips rocking against yours. You were tugging down your underwear, whining when the cool air hit your center. Jamie tugged his boxers off shortly after you. He hissed in pleasure when the head of his dick touched your entrance. 

In his distracted state, you flipped the both of you over so you were on top. You got on your knees, placing your body in between his separated legs. He looked at you questioningly, his face ever so expressive. You arched your back so you were leaning onto him. You grabbed his dick, lightly stroking it. Jamie scrunched his eyes closed, taking in a breath as you took your time with him. He backed up so his back was on his bed frame and you hungrily followed him. He crossed his arms behind his head. 

Jamie’s heart nearly stopped when your tongue licked up the side of his cock. You wrapped your lips around his head briefly, “Been wantin’ to taste ya since forever ago.” 

“Yeah?” Jamie breathed out, unable to look away from you. He groaned when you took his cock in your mouth, your hand wrapping around the rest of him that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. He tucked your hair behind your ears, trying to stop himself from bucking his hips up, “Been wantin’ you like this for so long. Wanted to feel that perfect pussy.” 

You groaned at his words, continuing to suck him off. He was a moaning mess, panting, hands gripping the sheets beside him. He abruptly pulled you off his dick, mumbling something about wanting to finish in your pussy. You hummed, connecting your lips once more. As he hovered over you, you leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Next time, I want you to fuck my mouth so hard I lose my voice. Don’t hold back, baby. Want to taste you.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jamie groaned, stopping his movements. He dropped his head on your shoulder. His dick was poking your pussy, more than ready to feel you around it. “You’re going to be the death of me.” 

“Told you, you couldn’t handle me.” 

Jamie licked his lips, a twinkle in his eye. “Told you, you were goin’ to regret sayin’ that, love.” 

Jamie pushed into you with fervor. Your scream bounced off the walls, and the air in your lungs disappeared. He looked down at you, a moan escaping his lips at how utterly perfect you looked under him. Your nails clawed at his back, no doubt leaving marks on it. Jamie couldn’t feel it. All he could feel was the warmth and tightness of you. His brain was shortcircuiting. He met no resistance from your pussy. It was so inviting. It was like it was made just for him. 

No coherent words left your lips. All you could babble out was Jamie’s name. You forgot every word besides his name. Jamie. Jamie. Jamie. Like a fucking mantra. Like a prayer. 

“Baby,” Jamie whispered. “Baby, please,” 

Your eyes were rolling back as you felt your orgasm coming quickly. Jamie was begging for you to come with him. He was close, so close that his ears were ringing. He couldn’t think about anything else but chasing his high and feeling you come undone around his cock. He thrusted into you with a rhythm that had you sobbing. The pleasure was so intense. You felt so full. 

Jamie felt your pussy tighten around him and his arms nearly gave out. He held himself on top of you, continuing to push into your pussy. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it at the perfect pressure to bring you to your end. 

“Shit,” Jamie hissed, unable to stop himself from pounding into you. You yelled out his name when you came, your pussy constricting around him as you orgasm. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, spilling himself inside of you shortly after. 

You cradled his head against you as he tried to catch his breath. When he pulled out of you, an involuntary sound left your mouth, suddenly feeling empty. Jamie chuckled at your reaction and let his eyes trail down your body. He licked his lips at the sight of his cum spilling out of you. 

You rolled over on your side, reaching up to fix his hair, “So what’s the verdict, Tartt? Can you handle me?” 

Jamie laughed, wrapping an arm around you. He placed his lips on yours, softer and sweeter this time. There was no more urgency between the both of you. “I don’t think I can.” 

“Told you.” 

“But, I think I just have to build my stamina up,” He added, his hand making its way down to your ass. “So I just need to practice some more with you.”

You smacked him on the shoulder, throwing your head back in laughter, “You’re ridiculous.” 

He smiled at you, teasing, “Hey, you’re the one who said there was a next time.” 

“Mhm,” you mumbled, kissing him again, “There will definitely be a next time.” 

[illiterateaffairs]

DISTRACTIONS III | YOU’RE KINDA CUTE

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

rating: T

word count: 5,528

summary: so you’ve just had a one night stand with one of the star footballers on the team you work for. you can be totally normal about it, right? 

A/N: ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO IS READING AND LEAVING THE NICEST AND FUNNIEST COMMENTS, I ADORE YOU ALL! this is kind of a long one, and i finally dip into jamie’s POV, which I’ll do more in the upcoming chapters. also as you can tell, this series takes place in season 3, but very loosely. like, roy is just going to have to deal with sharing jamie with the reader and not hogging him for training :)

distractions masterlist | previous chapter

Waking up the next morning is harder than you thought it would be. It's not because of the champagne flutes you were knocking back at Sam’s restaurant. In fact, you feel the most comfortable and well rested you have in a long time. It’s because of this that you absolutely loathe the idea of opening your eyes and getting out of bed when your alarm goes off at 7AM. Instinctually, you’re quick to turn off the grating noise, but when you begrudgingly try to sit up, you’re held down by a weight you don’t recognize. Opening one eye, you see it’s a person and their arm is wrapped securely around you. And not just any person; Jamie fucking Tartt. 

After pushing through your grogginess, you’re able to recall the events of last night; driving home with Jamie, kissing him and inviting him inside, sleeping with him. It was so out of character for you to hook up with a guy you barely knew. Sure, Jamie wasn’t a stranger and he wasn’t a complete jerk, but normally you wouldn’t even consider having sex until at least the third date. Not that you were planning on dating Jamie. That would be absurd. 

You didn’t regret it though. If there was one thing about Jamie’s reputation that he could be proud of, it was that he was indeed good in bed. Excellent even. It's probably why you slept so well last night. Even if Jamie came off as a bit self-centered, he definitely wasn’t when it came to knowing how to please you. 

Your eyes narrow, flashing back to a brief moment last night after the two of you finished round three. Did you say…thank you? God, you hope it was just something you thought in the haze of it all before falling asleep. 

Brushing past that, you angle yourself toward him more, as well as you can pinned under his left arm. Your eyes scan his face as he sleeps soundly beside you. He didn’t seem at all disturbed by your phone alarm a few moments ago. You’re not used to seeing the man so relaxed, because when you’re with him he’s either focused on playing football or annoyed with Zava. But right now he looks at peace. Glancing over, you also take note of his sleeve tattoo for the first time, tracing the designs on his arms lightly with your fingers. You’re once again confronted with the fact that you know so little about this man, and yet here you were in one of the most intimate situations you can be with a person. Observing his face again, you wonder what the two of you will do now. Jamie’s probably done this a million times, but you certainly haven’t. And you work together; you’ll see him everyday. 

You’re momentarily pulled from your anxious thoughts as Jamie lets out a long, quiet breath, but doesn’t wake. For a second, you’re distracted by how cute you find him in this moment. No. No. You are not getting attached to Jamie. This was a one time thing. That's all you wanted. That’s probably all he ever wanted. And you’re in no shape for a relationship right now. 

You take the risk to test just how heavy of a sleeper Jamie is, sliding out from beneath his arm. You mentally cheer when he just rolls over and continues sleeping. You quickly throw on a robe and some clean underwear before tiptoeing out of the room. In an effort to calm your nerves ahead of an impending conversation when he does wake up, you decide to make breakfast. Normally on work mornings you’d settle for something light, like toast or oatmeal. However, those meals will not take long enough to provide ample distraction from your racing thoughts. So, you decide in addition to toast that you’ll make some omelets. And bacon for good measure; Jamie probably likes bacon. You also wash some fruit because why the hell not. 

Everything is plated on your kitchen table when you hear movement from back in your bedroom. You’re pouring yourself a glass of juice when Jamie wanders into the room, buttoning up his shirt from last night. Before turning to face him, you psych yourself up and plaster a smile on your face. Be casual. However, once the two of you make eye contact, you both freeze and say nothing.

After a few seconds of silence that feel like hours, you force words to come out of your mouth.

“Apple juice?” Nice.

Jamie’s head jerks back in surprise, but a barely there smile forms on his face. “Apple juice? That’s what you’re offering?”

You shrug, deciding to push past how bizarre this is and try to roll with it, “What? It's the superior juice. Sorry I don’t have tea. I don’t really know how to make it- or care to- since, you know, it's disgusting.”

Jamie laughs softly, but gives you a curious look. You must’ve not done a good job at acting normal, because it seems he caught onto your nervousness, “You alright?”

You let your shoulders drop and decide to be honest, “I’m sorry, I just…I’ve never had a one night stand before.”

Jamie quirks an eyebrow, “You don’t say?”

You smile in spite of yourself, “I know, such a shocker, right?”

The footballer takes a moment to glance at the table behind you, “Well, first thing you should know is that most people don’t make breakfast for their one night stands.”

Despite saying that, Jamie takes a seat at your table and starts chewing on a strip of bacon. You roll your eyes playfully, but join him.

“I cook when I’m nervous,” not letting him linger on that admission you question him, “What about you? Do people usually stay the night after a one night stand?”

Jamie smiles through mouthfuls of egg and cheese. “Are you kicking me out?”

“No!” You assure too quickly, “I guess I’m just wondering what you’re thinking. And wondering how I’m going to look you in the eye at work to be honest. Like I said, I don't usually do this kind of thing.”

“I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. And I promise it won’t be weird. We can just carry on and keep making fun of how annoyed Roy gets at Ted’s jokes.” 

You let yourself laugh as you push a grape around your plate with your fork. 

“But last night was okay?” Jamie asks, showing his first hint of unsureness, “It was good for you, yeah?

“Oh yeah,” you nod eagerly, touched that he was a little nervous too, “Last night was…really great.” 

“Good,” he smiles again, “Just want to make sure it was at least a step up from the last guy.”

You snort, “Try five steps. At least.” You turn back to Jamie and a satisfied smirk is growing on his face, “Oh, don’t let that go to your head. That is not a difficult accomplishment, trust me.” 

“Well, like I said, it’s good you left him.” You nod in agreement. 

The two of you chat for a few more minutes as you finish up your breakfast. You get up, wanting to grab a shower before work. 

“Can I walk you out?” you ask.

Jamie shakes his head, “I think I remember the way.”

You nod with a tiny smile as he heads toward the kitchen doorway, “So, I’ll see you at the club then later, probably?”

“You will.”

You bid each other a goodbye, but as you turn to put your dishes in the sink, Jamie speaks up again.

“Oh, and one more thing. You’re welcome.” Jamie shoots you a wink before leaving you alone. 

Fuck, I did say that out loud. 

You know you’re being paranoid but it feels like everyone is staring at you when you arrive at the club later that morning. There is no reason anyone would know that you hooked up with Jamie last night but you can’t help but feel your face get hot as you pass coworkers on your way through the halls. You’re so in your head that you fully run into Sam on the way to your office. You can hardly meet his eye as he enthusiastically greets you. 

“I hope you slept well last night.”

“What?” your eyes bulge in panic and you laugh awkwardly, “Why would you ask that?”

Sam gives you a weird look, “When you were leaving, you said you had been exhausted so I was just wondering if you were more rested today.”

You relax; you did say that. “Oh, right. Yes, thank you, I slept great last night. Amazingly. Not too amazing. Just a normal good night's sleep. Snug in my bed. Alone.”

Sam still seems confused by your energy, but nevertheless smiles again. He seems none the wiser as he jogs off to the locker rooms before training. However, once he’s out of your view, your eyes lock onto Rebecca’s who had been watching on from behind him. Her expression lets on that she’s definitely onto you. 

“Good morning,” she greets pleasantly, with a mischievous look, “Can I walk you to your office?” 

You don’t even try to argue as you lead her down the hallway in silence. You try not to roll your eyes as she makes a show of getting comfortable on the couch in your office. 

She wastes no time once you shut the door. “So, you had sex last night.”

You groan, lightly pressing your head to your office door, “How could you possibly know that?”

“I always know,” Rebecca shrugs, “You look a lot less tense today.”

You turn to her sharply, “You’re saying I looked tense before?” 

“Not in a bad way. You just look lighter today. And very suspicious.” 

You walk over to her, crossing your arms. “Okay fine. I slept with someone. But I’m not telling you who it was.”

Rebecca stares at you for all of five seconds before she says, “Jamie?”

You let out an exasperated sigh as you plop down on the couch, burying your face in a cushion, “How do you do that?”

The blonde woman gasps and sits up a bit straighter, “I was going to say it's a gift, but maybe it's a curse. Jamie was just a hunch, since he left the restaurant last night a couple minutes after you did. You actually had sex with Jamie Tartt?”

You peek out at her from behind the pillow, “Yes?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she sighs.

“What's so wrong about that?” you move to sit up, hugging the pillow to your chest. “I haven’t been with anyone since Mason, and the opportunity presented itself with Jamie. Don’t I deserve a good time every once in a while?”

“Of course but with Jamie?”

“He’s not that bad,” you protest softly.

Rebecca nods, “I know that. Jamie is a good guy. I just wonder if he’s good for you. When he was with Keeley-”

“Oh, my God, he dated Keeley?” you gasp, covering your face with the pillow again. Muffled you murmur, “Is she going to hate me?”

“No, Keeley will not hate you,” Rebecca assures, playing with a few pieces of your hair to coax you back up to her, “I’m sure she could care less what Jamie does. That’s my point - he was not a good boyfriend when they were together. 

“Well, that’s my point. I’m not looking for a boyfriend. It was just a one time thing. I just needed to distract myself from spiraling over Mason.” 

Rebecca still feels unsure, but she gives you a tight smile and nods. “That's fair.” She reaches out to take your hand, “I know you don’t like talking about it, but if you ever need to vent or talk through anything regarding your breakup, I’m always here. You know that I get what all that's like.”

You smile, giving her hand a squeeze. “I know. I appreciate it, but I think I’m alright for now.” 

“Good.”

“One more thing though. Can you not tell…”

“I promise I will not tell Ted.”

You grimace, “Okay, him too. I was actually going to say Keeley. I know that's asking a lot since she’s your best friend, but I don’t want to risk losing her friendship over a dumb one night stand.”

Rebecca gives you another reassuring smile, “I won’t tell her either.”

“Thank you.”

“Just call me Rebecca Welton: keeper of your secrets.” 

“Oh, my God, I am so sorry.” you sigh, “I need to stop doing things I don’t want other people to know.”

Rebecca laughs, squeezing your hand one last time before standing up, “You are fine. You’re young. You’re allowed to be messy and have secrets.” She smooths out her attire as she grabs the doorknob. “But you need to relax and stop acting so weird around the office. You had sex, so what? That's not a bad thing. You don’t need to shout it from the rooftops but you can be proud of it.”

“I’ll do my best,” you laugh. She nods encouragingly before heading out the door. 

You do feel yourself walk with your head held a bit higher after that. 

The rest of your work day goes a lot better. You help Rebecca with some paperwork, shadow the team during training, and round out the evening by having dinner in your office with Ted. The only time you saw Jamie was during their practice. He didn’t act out of the ordinary, so you didn’t either, both of you exchanging polite smiles like you always did. 

You don’t notice the way he looks over at you a few times between drills. 

Now you and Keeley were headed to the locker rooms, with coffees in hand, to assist Shandy with the Bantr video shoot. You’re proud that you play it totally cool and don’t manage to accidentally confess you’d hooked up with her ex last night. 

As if Father Time knew when you were coming, Jamie is the next player to hop in front of the camera. You smile unconsciously as he gets touch ups, before snapping yourself out of it to refocus on the conversation Shandy and Keeley were having. It was about Jamie of course. 

You start to find your cardboard coffee cup really interesting when Shandy comments on how attractive Jamie is. And you try not to sweat as Keeley starts listing off his red flags, only to follow up with comments about how he’s grown recently. You peak over at her as she looks at him on the monitor. Please, please don’t still have feelings for him. If you get back together I really won’t be able to look either of you in the eye. 

“He only thinks with his dick,” Keeley muses jokingly before continuing thoughtfully, “Yet, I don’t think he’s seen anyone in ages.”

You busy yourself by taking a sip of coffee so you don’t pull a face.

Shandy gives Keeley a look, “I just want to know if I can bang him, babe.”

You almost choke on your drink. 

“Oh,” Keeley manages a laugh, “I don’t know, you should probably ask him. It’s his dick.”

Shandy laughs along with her, nudging your arm. “What do you think?”

You try not to let your eyes become saucers. “Who, me?” She nods as if that's a dumb question - which it is. “I hardly know the guy. But like Keeley said, it's his dick. Consent is key.”

Shandy smirks, “Alright works for me. I’ll have to see what he’s doing later.”

You try not to be bothered by that. 

Later, Keeley and Shandy let you head out while they close up shop on the shoot. Most of the team has cleared out, but you say goodnight to the few players you pass on the way back to your office to pick up your things. You’re caught off guard when you find Jamie waiting in one of the chairs in front of your desk. 

“Hey, what’s up?” you ask curiously, shutting your door behind you. “Thought you left after you shot your promo.”

Jamie shook his head, “Nah, wanted to check on you first.” 

That makes you feel nothing. 

“Oh? Why?”

“I dunno. I knew you were feeling weird about everything this morning. Wanted to know how your day went.”

You smile softly at him, “I appreciate that.” You recall Rebecca’s pep talk this morning, “But, I’m feeling a lot better. In fact I feel great.” 

“Good, you should,” Jamie smirks standing up, “And just so you know, I had a good time last night, too. You were also much better than the last girl I was with.”

You almost feel flattered, before your face twists in disgust, “Please don’t tell me that girl was Keely. Not that I need to know where I stand in comparison to Keeley, because I really do not, but I do feel weird knowing you two used to date.”

While Jamie is amused by your nervous rambling, he also appears a bit dejected at the mention of his ex, “No, Keeley was not the last person I was with. You also do not need to worry about that. Keeley could not give less of a shit what I do anymore, I’m sure.”

Both he and Rebecca made a similar comment to that effect. You’re dying to know more but you know it's none of your business. So you give him a reassuring smile instead, “Okay, cool. How was the rest of your day?”

Jamie shrugs, “Not as good as it started,” he winks, “but alright I guess. Roy has me doing extra training between practices now.”

You ignore his cheeky remark, “Really? That sounds awful.”

“S’not so bad. If I want to be the best player on the team, I got to put in the work.”

You nod thoughtfully, “Well if it means anything, and I'm sure it doesn’t since I don’t know shit about football, but I think you’re already pretty great.”

An unfamiliar expression casts over Jamie’s face as he blinks at you. He awkwardly breaks eye contact before responding, “Um, thank you.”

“‘Course,” you let the silence blanket the room for a bit before you’re making a comment you know you’ll regret later. “So, I think you were right. Shandy definitely does want to take a bite out of you.”

Jamie lets out a surprised huff, looking back up at you, “What? Why do you say that?”

“She was really enjoying your promo video earlier.”

Jamie hums, nodding. “And what did you think?”

You shrug innocently, “I thought it was fine.” 

“Uh-huh. And if you saw me on Bantr, would you swipe right?”

“Not how that app works,” Jamie gives you a look and you give him one right back, “I think you already know my answer.” 

“Hmm,” he smiled, pleased with himself. 

“Would you-?”

“Swipe right on you? Thousand percent.”

“No,” you roll your eyes but bite back a smile, “On Shandy?”

“Oh.” he pauses, “Would it bother you if I did?”

You shake your head semi-quickly, “I’ll remind you, we just had a one night stand. I have no jurisdiction over any of your other nights.”

The side of Jamie’s lips quirk up, “Fair enough. Well, I will leave you to it then. I’d offer to drive you, but I have to meet Roy soon for another training session and he’ll be even more grumpy if I’m late.” 

“You’re going to train again?” you ask in disbelief as he opens your office door.

“Yeah.”

“God, I can’t even get myself to work out once a week.”

“I dunno, you were pretty athletic last night.”

You groan, shoving him through the door, “Okay, get the fuck out of here, Tartt.”

“I’m really glad we can joke about this.” 

“Get out!”

He laughs as he strolls down the hallway and around the corner, you unable to not watch as he goes. 

You can’t help but note he never confirmed or denied interest in Shandy. Once again, you try not to be bothered by it.

When you leave a few minutes later, though, you catch Shandy and Keeley in the parking lot, and note that Jamie’s car is already gone. This time, you try not to be pleased with this information. 

On Saturday, you join Rebecca and Keeley in a suite for Richmond’s match against West Ham. You learned this match was a big deal for two reasons.

One: Rebecca’s ex-husband, Rupert, owned the club. As soon as Rebecca introduces him when you run into him and his new wife, Bex, a chill runs down your spine. Even through forced pleasantries, he just oozes sliminess. 

Two: Their head coach used to be an assistant coach for Richmond; Nathan Shelley. A few weeks after you moved, Beard informed you that the man blew up at Ted for some reason. That was only after he leaked information to the press about Ted having a panic attack during the game. Beard made you swear you wouldn’t tell Ted that he’d told you this. Not because Ted wouldn’t want you know about his anxiety; you’d actually had a sweet conversation with him after the news broke last year, even confiding in him about your own mental health struggles. But Beard knew that Ted wouldn’t want you worrying about the Nate situation. So you promised his best friend you wouldn’t mention it. 

That still didn’t stop you from rooting for his- and Rupert’s- imminent demise. On the field, of course. 

You sneak away from Rebecca and Keeley to grab some locker room footage for AFC Richmond’s socials. When you arrive in the doorway, you look to Ted for a signal that everyone is decent before entering. The energy in the room immediately feels different than usual, especially following their win streak. You know they’re going into today’s game with something to prove. You knock on a locker softly to grab their attention and two dozen pairs of eyes land on you. 

“Hey boys. I don’t want to keep you, but would a few of you be open to doing some videos for our stories?”

A few team members including Sam, Zoreaux (who’s going by Van Damme now), and Jamie for some reason kindly volunteer, and you pull them off to the side. One by one, you have the boys record a video on how they’re feeling about today’s match, that you’ll post to Instagram. You don’t know if you do it on purpose or not, but you save Jamie for last. You hope he doesn’t notice the cadence. Now, just the two of you, he flashes you a grin before you record his segment. 

“Can I see?” he asks after you’re done, “Got to make sure you’ve got my angles right.”

You snort, but nod him over to look at your phone. You hold your breath momentarily as he leans in next to you. Nodding after the video replays, he turns to look at you, your faces inches apart.

“Looks good.”

“Yeah,” you breath out, “You’re a one take wonder.”

His lips turn into a smirk. Neither of you say anything for a while, as your eyes study each other's faces. You wonder what he’s thinking. You know what you’re thinking; his eyes are somehow really pretty in this terrible fluorescent locker room lighting. 

You blink for maybe the first time in sixty seconds as you hear Ted calling for the team to huddle up for a pre-game pep talk. 

“That’s my cue,” you whisper. “Good luck out there today, Jamie.”

His smirk melts into a genuine smile, “Thank you.”

You return the gesture before pulling yourself out of his orbit. You skip past the rest of the team, wishing them all luck. Beard and Ted give you nods and you high five Sam on the way out.

Back in Rebecca’s suite, you join her, Keeley, Higgins and some of Keeley’s coworkers. One of them turns out to own the company that finance’s Keely’s PR firm, Jack. After sipping on some drinks, your group settles into your box seats. You clock Rupert a couple boxes over. Glancing at Rebecca, you see that she’s noticed the same thing. You subtly squeeze her hand and lean over. 

“No matter what happens today, he’s still going to be the only loser between the two of you.” you quip softly. 

You’re pleased when you see her visibly relax. She gives you a grateful smile and squeezes your hand back. 

Unfortunately, her relaxed state doesn’t last very long. At half time West Ham is up by one. The match had been tough to watch. At one point, Richmond had the opportunity to score, had Jamie passed to Zava, but you felt your stomach twist when Jamie went for the goal himself and ended up missing. You could understand why he did it, but you wanted to see them win this game. You knew he and the whole team must be feeling the pressure three times as much as you were. You never thought you’d care this much about sports.

You and your friends try to make small talk while the teams regroup in the locker room, but everyone’s still feeling the stress of the game. Rebecca had even left to go who-knows-where to shake off her anxieties. Although, you get a moment of reprieve when Keeley asks Shandy if she’d gone out with Jamie yet, and the girl exasperatedly informs everyone that he turned her down. You manage not to outwardly smile. 

Everyone in your section is immediately alert a few minutes later when both teams start making their way back to the pitch. West Ham enters first, energy high, followed by the Greyhounds who look…less than thrilled. You can feel the tension radiating off of them from your seat, as they all seem to throw death glares at Nate. 

You’re not sure what happened in the locker room to cause this shift in attitude, but you hoped it meant they’d play tougher this half. 

Oh how wrong you were. 

The team was practically feral, pushing, shoving and literally throwing the West Ham players to the ground. You found yourself wincing on multiple occasions at the violence. You were shocked that even Sam was engaging in the aggression. By the end of the game, Richmond was down half their players and lost the match 4 to 1. 

You can barely comprehend what you just witnessed. After digesting everything, and hopefully giving everyone time to cool down, you let Keeley know you’d meet her and Rebecca out front, Rebecca having already vacated the suite, mumbling expletives in her wake. You head down to the locker room again to find the team in what could only be described as different states of denial. They also looked a bit…ashamed. 

As if sensing your presence, Jamie’s eyes snap up and land on your figure. Despite the fact that he feels like absolute shit right now, seeing you alleviates half of his stress. He nearly stands to meet you in the doorway, when Sam approaches you and you engulf him in a hug. Jamie’s nervous energy shifts into a feeling he doesn’t recognize. All he knows is he wishes there was someone that could comfort him after this loss, or any loss, really. But he doesn’t have the relationship with you that you do with Sam. Maybe if you got to know each other better, you’d consider him a closer friend; one you’d go to when you knew he felt shitty. One he could go to when he wanted to talk about something. Anything. But you weren’t those kinds of friends yet. He briefly wonders if you even consider him a friend, but he’s not lingering on that thought right now. 

He tries not to stare as you continue talking to Sam, before Sam leaves to hit the showers. You exchange what he imagines are words of affirmation with Colin and Isaac, too, before you’re heading back to the door. You pause and turn around again, eyes scanning the room before they land on his, as if that were their destination. He lifts his head out of its place in his hand. You only give him a sad smile and a head nod before you’re turning around again. You nearly run into Ted when you do. He watches as you and Ted exchange words briefly, before you squeeze the coach's arm and disappear around the corner. 

Jamie sighs. You’ve had sex with him and all he gets is a fucking head nod, while Ted Lasso gets a pat on the arm. 

He doesn’t think the day can get much worse, until Zava sashays into the room, with a disappointed look plastered across his face. He doesn’t waste any time hiding his frustrations with the team for their actions in the second half, as if he’s never done anything wrong in his life. Jamie rolls his eyes and heads to the showers himself. 

Jamie slugs through the rest of the evening in a daze. He barely registers going from the match to the bus, and then back to his home. He tries to find something on TV to distract himself from his anxious energy, but he can’t focus on anything. He briefly considers going out to some bar or club, but he’s really not in the mood. He settles on texting Roy to see if he’s up for a late night workout, but for some reason the guy chooses tonight to be a reasonable human being and tells Jamie to take the night off. 

He’s pacing around his living room when he gets one last idea. It's not a great idea, and he’s definitely going to regret it, regardless if it went well or not. But before he can talk himself out of it, he’s grabbing his keys and slamming his front door shut. 

You’re camped out on your couch as one of your favorite The Nanny reruns plays on the TV. You find yourself zoning out, though, replaying the events of the match. 

Sam had given you insight on what went down with him and the team. He informed you during half time, they learned that Nate had destroyed the Believe sign that hung in their locker room. While ripping a piece of paper hardly seemed like a reason to go full attack-mode, you understood when Sam explained that the sign, and Ted’s belief system, had been what began to unite them as a team a couple years ago. Your heart warmed at how much Ted clearly meant to Sam and the team, and while their methods may have not been perfect, you admired how protective they were over your uncle. 

You wonder how Jamie’s taking it. Even though you’ve become a lot more comfortable around him, you still felt awkward approaching him in the locker room in front of the team. But you secretly longed to ask how he was. Despite not knowing a whole lot about him, he always seemed especially attached to Ted, so you could only imagine how he’d taken everything this afternoon. Although, you don’t remember him participating in most of the fighting. He’d just played a bit more aggressively. 

You’re typing and retyping a text to Jamie, figuring out the best way to check in without seeming invasive. Before you have the chance to debate your words any longer, there’s a knock on your door. Your heart rate spikes. Who the hell would be knocking on your door at 10PM? You slowly approach the door, your mind making up some crap about London being a crime-free city to put your anxieties at ease. You quietly peek through the peep-hole. Letting out a loud sigh of relief, you unlock the door and pull it open. 

“Jamie, what are you doing here? Are you okay?”

The footballer gives you a once over before shaking his head decidedly, “No.”

Worried, you part your mouth to respond, but don’t get the chance when he’s suddenly cupping your face and kissing you, firmly but gently. Your hands automatically find his arms to steady yourself, as the two of you stumble further into your apartment. You kiss him back for a few more seconds, before parting slightly.

“Jamie,” you whisper in question against his lips.

“I’m sorry, I know you wanted this to be a one time thing but do you think you can make an exception tonight?” he breathes heavily, nestling his forehead to yours, “Today was shit and I just, I need…”

You nod furiously, not needing him to continue, “I know, it's okay.” You kiss him once, twice. “I can do a two-time thing.” 

He huffs out a laugh in relief before pulling you closer for an even more passionate kiss. He kicks your door shut before pushing you in the direction of your bedroom. 

Later that night when you’re both coming down from your highs, and Jamie’s laying on top of you, with his head buried in your neck, you hear him whisper cheekily, “Thank you.”

Leave it to Jamie to make you flush with embarrassment and laugh out loud, as your naked bodies tangle together. 

What a fucking prick. 

A/N: CAN’T WAIT TO HEAR WHAT Y’ALL THINK! also this gif, hello??

[inbloomwriting]

a kiss that I kept II Jamie Tartt

Plot: Jamie Tartt was 9 years old when he met the love of his life. He considers himself lucky to have met her at such a young age. He considers himself a damn fool for fucking it up later on though. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of Jamie's dad. Notes: Friends to idiots to lovers. Inspired by "Simple Song" by the Shins Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

When I was just nine years old I swear that I dreamed Your face on a football field And a kiss that I kept Under my vest Apart from everything But the heart in my chest

There’s something cathartic about being back home in Manchester. Not as a footballer, just as Jamie. When he doesn’t have to be phenomenal, when he doesn’t have to perform and win. When he doesn’t have to try so damn hard to give his dad a reason to be proud of him.

Without those expectations and without the pressure, it feels good to be home. It’s a part of his childhood that is untouched by his father’s malice. It’s pure and joyful and precious.

He’s not Jamie Tartt, golden child and footballer extraordinaire. He’s cousin Jamie. He’s Jamie from down the road. He’s Georgie’s boy. 

It’s been a while since he’s been back, been even longer since he’s seen any of his extended family but being back now, it feels like hardly any time has passed. Millie has always been his favorite cousin so when the envelope showed up in his mailbox, all fancy paper and swirly font, there was no hesitation in him. Nothing could keep him from attending her wedding.

She’s a beautiful bride, all flowy dress and flowers in her hair. It’s almost hard to believe she’s the same kid that used to run around the neighborhood with Jamie, getting into trouble wherever they could find it. But somewhere between chiffon and carnations that little girl still exists. He wonders if the little boy he used to be is still alive somewhere inside of him. He hopes he’s proud of who he grew up to be. Sometimes he doubts it. 

His eyes wander across the room, the reception is in full swing, people are talking, laughing, celebrating. Love is radiating from every smile. Though Jamie doesn’t really care all too much about that if he’s being completely honest, he only cares about one particular smile. 

And when he catches sight of her, leaning against the bar with a glass of champagne in hand, wearing a gorgeous powder pink dress and daisies in her hair, he’s certain his heart misses a beat. 

It would be an understatement to call (Y/N) his best childhood friend. Friend was never a big enough word to describe what she meant to Jamie — what she still means to him. 

Jamie Tartt was 9 years old when he met the love of his life. He considers himself lucky to have met her at such a young age. He considers himself a damn fool for fucking it up later on though. 

“Are you planning on talking to me anytime soon or do you just want to stare at me all day, Tartt?” 

She says it with the same sense of mischief she’s always held. Like a silent promise of adventure perpetually hidden in her words. 

“I was going to — eventually.” 

“Well, eventually is not good enough for me. I missed you, Jamie.” 

It’s only when she pulls him into a hug that he realizes just how much that sentiment is reciprocated. The familiar scent of lavender and the feel of her body against his, it all brings up so many memories of times long gone. This, Jamie thinks, is as close to time travel as humans will ever get.

He is suddenly 9 years old, playing soccer on the field just down the road from his house. His football is old and slightly inflated and some of the hexagons are flaking off, just holding on by a single tread. His goal is no real goal and all but two plastic bottles functioning as make-believe goalposts.

 The air smells like sunscreen and summer and dust and life is easy for a moment. He gets to do what he loves without having to prove anything to anyone. Football is just a game here, something to pass the time. It’s fun.

He does kicks and jumps and trick shots and it doesn’t matter if he messes up. He can fail without having to fear any repercussions. There is no one there to judge him for it. Failure is a byproduct of trying not a sign of weakness. 

Just as he is about to line up another shot at the makeshift goal, he sees her across the football field. At 9 years old, Jamie doesn’t know a lot of things but he’s quite certain she’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. For a moment he wonders if she’s a dream, an illusion. Then she steps closer, comes walking towards him with that bright smile of hers and the glimmer of excitement shining in her eyes. 

“You’re really good,” she says. He’s heard that a few times before, it never mattered then because he wasn’t good enough, not to his father at least. It matters when this stranger says it though, because she’s pretty and because she has no reason to lie to him. 

“Thanks. I’m Jamie.”

“You’re bleeding.” 

His eyes follow to where she points at his right knee and sure enough, it’s scraped up, a drop of blood running down his leg.

“Does it hurt?” 

Jamie shrugs as if to let her know that it’s not a big deal. It does sting quite a bit now that she pointed it out to him. He’s not gonna let her know that though, girls don’t like soft boys who whine about scraped knees.

“I have a plaster if you want one. So you don’t get any dirt in the wound.” 

She doesn’t even wait for an answer, just rummages through her purse that’s shaped like a little poodle, and pulls out a plaster. Jamie holds out his hand though she doesn’t pay it any attention, just kneels down and softly, so fucking softly, put the plaster over his wound. It’s the first time he smells her lavender shampoo, the first time she smiles at him, and the first time she sends his heart racing. 

“I’m (Y/N), by the way.” 

And his life has not been the same since.

“ I missed you too.” 

It’s the truth. He missed her terribly. But sometimes it’s hard to reconcile who he is with who he used to be. Who he is now with the person she used to love.

“Could’ve fooled me, you don’t even answer my insta DMs, you ass.” 

Even when she curses him out, she regards him with infinite affection. 

The girl that put a plaster on his bleeding knee is now a whole woman, but the kindness is still the exact same. The softness she holds for him is still there.

“To be fair I hardly check those. They scare me, honestly.” 

“At least your mum updates me on your life. She was always my favorite Tartt anyway.” 

He loves how much she loves his mum and how much mum loves her. There is something so inexplicably comforting in knowing the people you love most share a bond. 

“Think you’re her favorite too.” 

“Oh yeah, I know I am.” 

Her laughter rings through the air like the sweetest song he’s ever heard. It’s so awfully cheesy, his own thoughts almost make him barf. But she just has that effect on him. 

“You look beautiful today, (Y/N).” 

“Today?” she asks in mock offense and though he knows it’s really just a joke, he feels the need to explain himself.

“Don’t get me wrong. You’re always proper fit but that dress? You look like a fucking angel.” 

The way she bites her lip slightly and bashfully averts her eyes for a second, is a success in his book. 

She really does look gorgeous, a whole vision of perfection. The pink dress, the flowers — the necklace. 

A shiny rose gold charm sparkles in the light, resting gently against her skin. Heart-shaped like his feelings for her. He knows the pendant opens up and he knows exactly what he’ll find if he were to open it. 

His lips lift in an involuntary smirk.

“What’s that look for, Jam?” 

“You still got the necklace.”

She places a gentle hand against her chest, against the heart-shaped charm.

“Obviously. I will never ever ever get rid of it. I love it. You stole this for me!”

He was 14 and stupid and head-over-heels in love. He still remembers the sticky heat of the summer clinging to his skin, the taste of watermelon on his tongue, and the thought of her on his mind. 

They spent all day riding their bikes around town with nowhere to be and everywhere to go. It was a good day, a phenomenal day. She shared her ice cream cup with him and held his hand on the way back to their bikes. It was a phenomenal day and Jamie was not ready to let it end just yet. Not when he couldn’t stop thinking about the way her eyes lit up as she looked at that necklace in the shop window. 

In retrospect, it was an extraordinarily dumb idea, one of his worst to date, but it made her smile. The way she smiled at him when he gave her the necklace that he stole for her, that made it all worth it. The yelling from mum and the being grounded and the having to pay back the money by working at the store for 3 whole months that summer. 

Her smile made it all worth it.

“Mum was so mad at me that day.”

“Well, you did commit theft, so —” 

“Worth it though. Made you smile.” 

“Oh, Jam you— “ 

The nickname gives him shaky knees, the interruption by the DJ gives him a fucking headache.

“May all the unmarried ladies please report to the dance floor, it’s time for the bouquet toss.” 

“That’s my queue, I guess. Save me a dance, Jamie Tartt.” 

He will save her every damn dance in his life. They are all hers if she wants them.

She stands in the middle of the dancefloor, surrounded by a bunch of other women, a flicker of friendly competitiveness shining in her eyes. If she’s joining in on the bouquet toss, that means she’s not married, does that mean she’s single? 

Of course, he could’ve asked mum, she knows for sure, but that would just open a whole different can of worms. You don’t ask your own mum if the girl you’ve been in love with since you were 9 years old, is single. You just don’t, no matter how badly you want to know.

The DJ starts playing Girls just wanna have fun, (Y/N) hated that song. “It’s awfully overplayed”, she said one time they were driving in his car, before changing the station. 

She must still hate it judging by the grimace that falls over her face for a mere second before she catches herself and puts another polite smile back on her lips. 

Millie stands before the group of women, back towards her friends, and bouquet raised in the air before counting down.

One 

Two

Three

The flowers fly through the air and land in the hands of a girl whose name Jamie can’t recall but she’s definitely one of the bridesmaids. Chelsea? Cristy? Something like that. She looks elated, a guy leaning against the bar looks mortified. 

(Y/N) seems thoroughly unbothered by it all as she strolls back across the dance floor toward Jamie. 

“Do you want me to congratulate you or give you my condolences?” 

She just laughs and shakes her head “It’s not like I have any suitors waiting for me to offer them my hand in marriage anyway.” 

So she is single. Not that it matters or anything. It’s good to know though.

His eyes sweep across her face, then her hair, where one of the daisies is barely holding on and just about to fall off. Without giving it another thought, as if moving on autopilot, Jamie gingerly plucks the flower from her hair and places it behind her ear. There’s something about her that makes him want to be soft, that allows him to be soft. 

“Almost lost one.” 

“Thank you, Jamie.” 

The tenderness in her words almost sends him to his knees. When you’re used to words being sharp and bitter it’s hard to accept when they are silky and delicate. 

“You have the saddest eyes, Jam. What’s bothering you?” 

There is a big long metaphorical list of all the things that rest so heavy on his heart. The pressure of having to be the best version of himself at all times. The feeling of failure always creeping up on him. The fear of messing up. The idea of not being good enough. 

The reminder of what could’ve been and of all that isn’t.

He has a whole big list of things that make him sad — he doesn’t say any of that though. Just shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance. 

“Don’t know what you mean, I’m chuffed. Doing fan-fucking-tastic.” 

She can read him like a book, always could. Jamie doesn’t know why he even tries to fool her, it’s not going to work either way.

“I know that’s a lie,” (Y/N) scoffs then regards him with a look he can’t place. It’s a mix between pity and something else, something warm and comforting. “I’m not going to force you to talk to me about it. I’m aware we aren’t as close as we used to be but I just want you to know that I am always in your corner, Jamie. Always.” 

He has no doubt she means what she says but Jamie isn’t sure she really knows what she’s talking about. She knew him as a little kid, an awkward teenager, a misguided 20-year-old. She doesn’t know this new version of him. Bitter and a little lost — or maybe a lot.

Jamie isn’t sure this new him deserves her loyalty.

"There's something that does make me sad, actually."

"What's that?"

"The fact that I’ve not had a single slice of cake yet. That’s why I’m here, innit?”

“And I thought you were here to celebrate your cousin getting married.” 

“Common misconception, really. I mean I am — but mostly it’s about the cake. Technically I’m on a diet but it's a wedding, that doesn’t count. We all know that.” 

They both know he’s just talking out of his ass. Of course, he’s here for Millie. For the wedding and the family get together and all of it. And even a little for (Y/N). Because he really did miss her … so fucking badly.

“Oh well, let’s go get us some cake then. Can’t have you starving, not Jamie Tartt — the island’s top scorer.” 

Jamie has done a lot of things in his life that he isn’t particularly proud of. He tries to see them all as learning opportunities, cautionary tales for a future him. Doesn’t mean he likes to think about them. Especially not his short but quite memorable stint on the dating show Lust conquers all. All the worst parts of him put on display for everyone to see and discuss and judge, every night at 8pm. 

“You watched that then?”

“Uh, obviously?! What’s a best friend’s job if not to laugh about you while you make a fool of yourself on a dating reality tv show?” 

It warms him from the inside out, to hear that she still considers him her best friend. He’s not sure he’s been very good at it in the last few years. Has barely talked to her. But then again, who makes the rules? Maybe some people are bound together so tightly from the very beginning that neither time nor distance can break them apart. 

“I’ll have you know that I was number one on famous birthdays the day after I got eliminated from the show. So, who’s laughing now?” 

“Were you? How long did that last?” 

“Like a day, maybe 2. Then it went back to John Krasinsky, fucking wanker.” 

“Aw babe, well you’ll always be my favorite person born on October 20th. “ she says as they both come to stand by the table decked out in cakes and other desserts. “ I do like the office though, hmm…” 

"Oh, sod off. You’re breaking my fucking heart.”

He likes the way she hugs his arm in mock apology. She’s not sorry, in fact, she’s still laughing. It doesn’t matter if she’s laughing with or about him though. As long as there is a smile on her face, that’s good enough for him.

“Sorry. Can I make it up to you?” 

Jamie nudges her shoulder with his, the way they always did when they were kids. That little boy that was so in love with her, he’s slowly but surely clawing his way to the surface again. Breaking free from Jamie’s ribcage where he has been kept hidden for such a long time now.

“Well, what about that cake then?” 

The neon lights dip her in shades of blues and pinks and purples as she twirls on the dancefloor, weaving in and out of the crowd. Jamie is sure he’s seen this very moment in a dream of his before. 

“Oh, you look so handsome, my baby. Are you having a good time?” 

His mother’s voice cuts through his hazy daydreams as she plops down on the chair next to him. No matter how old he gets, Jamie doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of his mother’s affection. Her unshaken faith in him and her unwavering belief that he is a good man, after all.

“You’re my mum, you have to say that.”

“Absolutely not! Remember when you had that dangly earring? I told you right out you looked like a muppet.” 

“Yeah you did,” he nods and takes a sip of his beer “Crushed me, honestly. Loved that earring. Thought I looked well cool.” 

“Well, you know who didn’t hate it? (Y/N).” 

That gets his attention. Eyebrows raised he takes his eyes off of the girl in question and turns fully towards his mother.

“How would she know? She didn’t see it.” 

“Yes, she did. I showed her a picture when we had girls night.” 

It's a nice image, his mum and (Y/N) having girls night. Sure, having them team up on him is terrifying, but he can't help but relish in the fact that his loves love each other so dearly. 

"Girls night, huh? You ladies talk about me a lot then?"

"Are you joking?" 

The way his mum raises her eyebrow is so familiar. It's the same damn expression he sees in himself all the time.

"That girl has been in love with you since you were kids. Of course, we talk about you a lot. You're all we talk about, Jamie. "

As a kid, Jamie always wondered what it felt like to put your finger straight into an electrical outlet. He never did it, obviously. But there was some strong curiosity there.

This is what it must feel like. Hearing his mother say that (Y/N) is in love with him, that's what it must feel like

Electric shocks straight to the heart.

“What?” 

His mum just shakes her head, there’s that smile pulling at her lips. That typical mother's smile that tells you that they know you so much better than you know yourself.

“Come on now, Jamie. You know this is how she feels, everyone does. She adores you. Same way you adore her. That is how you feel, isn’t it?” 

Of course, it is. She’s everything. She feels like an ocean being warmed by the sun. Warm and inviting and comforting. Beautiful. Tender. Soft.

“Don’t matter really, does it? We haven’t talked in so long. Doubt she even knows me well enough anymore.” 

“She watches every match, goes to most of them if she can. She even bought that video game you’re on. Girl is almost as proud of you as I am. Look love, “ Mum rests a gentle hand on his arm. “I don’t know half the things that are bothering you right now but I do know that you’re struggling. I just want you to know that you are not a bad person, Jamie. The little boy you used to be deserved to be loved and so does the man you are now. You made bad choices but you still deserve love. We all make bad decisions sometimes. I know I made a lot of them when I was younger.” 

“Hah, like having me.”

He passes it off as a joke but there’s a hint of truth swinging along. She was really young when she had him and while he knows she doesn’t resent him for it, he wonders if maybe her life would’ve turned out better had he not come along. Mum loves him unconditionally and she always makes sure he knows it so it’s a silly thing to think about really. It’s a fleeting thought and it really only shows itself when he’s already deep in his thoughts but when it does, it sends him spiraling. 

The slap to the arm is not friendly or in good humor, that one is meant to sting.

“Don’t you ever say that again. You are my life, Jamie. I love you. Having you was the best decision I’ve ever made. You hear me?” 

It’s dumb really, he knows Mum loves him. It’s always been them against the world (or well, them against dad, really). But sometimes his head gets so loud and fills itself with stupid thoughts.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry. I love you, mama.” 

“Love you too, my baby boy. And I am so proud of everything you ever did, okay? Except maybe the earring.” 

A chuckle falls from Jamie’s lips. “The earring was a bad idea, I got it.”

“Good. Now go dance with your girl, yeah? You two are driving me crazy.” 

His girl. His girl wraps her arms around his neck when he walks up to her on the dancefloor. His girl looks up at him with the most radiant smile. His girl who feels like the sun and smells like lavender and wraps his heart in silk and sweet memories.

“Finally, thought I was going to have to drag you onto the dancefloor. You still owe me a dance.” 

“Sorry. Not much of a slow dancer, yeah? I do know some great boy band choreographies though, and the cha-cha slide.” 

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. Coach made us learn a full N'sync routine for Doctor Sharon's going away party. She didn't show up but I was fucking ace. I’m sure Keeley has a video of it somewhere.” 

She grants him a smile though it doesn't reach her eyes.

"How is Keeley? How are you guys?"

There's an edge to her words and if he didn't know better he'd call it jealousy. But that doesn't make sense … right?

There's no him and Keeley, at least not in the way she's asking about. There never will be. Keeley is one of his favorite people but her friendship means so much more than any fickle try on upholding a relationship doomed to fail. Jamie thinks there's something brave and mature about that realization.

"She's good. We're good. Friends I mean. Good friends."

"No more dating?"

"Nah she's dating one of my best friends. Hated it at first but they're kinda perfect for each other. It's a bit disgusting, really."

Those words manage to pull the smile all the way up to reach her eyes. It's magnificent. Spectacular. A laugh tumbles from her lips, a sound so sweet if he were to taste it, he's sure it would put the most delicious honey to shame.

"You know," Jamie speaks and pulls her closer as they absentmindedly sway along to the music " I never thanked you."

"For what?"

"For the phone call that one night."

It was just after Manchester had kicked him out. No one wanted to sign him. He had burned bridges with everyone who ever stood by him and gave him a chance and Jamie had never felt more lost and more alone.

He just needed someone. A piece of home. A reminder of the 9-year-old boy who loved football for the fun of it all. He needed her. 

He hadn't expected her to pick up that night, he really didn’t deserve it. But she did. Of course, she did. She always did.

"You don't have to thank me for that, Jamie. You are you and I am me and I will always pick up the phone for you."

It's such a simple thought. The most basic of all concepts. You are you and I am me and there will always be a space for us in my life and yours.

"I just - I felt very alone and lost and I hated the person I was then. It was like I was some boat or something, stuck on a cliff. And then when I talked to you and you had my back anyway it was like all my fears that I told you about suddenly disappeared, you know? Like you sent me a wave, a flood and gave my boat a lift over the rocks. I know it sounds fucking silly but Ted has me reading all these books with the big words. Making me feel all smart and philosophical."

She's so gentle when she combs her fingers through his hair, tugging some strands back behind his ear. He will never grow tired of soft touches and even softer looks.

"Jamie, even if I didn't like the person you were then, I loved you anyway. I don't have to like you to love you. Loving someone means accepting that they make mistakes but giving them room to become the person you know they can be. You wanted to change for the better and honestly, I think you turned out pretty spectacular."

Jamie isn’t quite sure if he will ever grow used to receiving love in the form of comforting words and soft touches but he truly relishes in it, always. 

"Do you wanna get out of here? Party is about to wind down anyway. Don't think anyone's gonna miss us."

The night feels heavy with possibility. 

"Sure, Jam. Where do you wanna go?"

"Doesn't matter. Nowhere. Anywhere. As long as I'm with you."

The glimmer in her eyes tells him she has an idea.

The bench by the side of the field looks the exact same it did when he was a kid. Chipping red paint and rotting wood. Initials in permanent marker forever immortalizing past versions of whoever wrote them down. Time forever frozen.

Jamie is 9 years old again and he is also 11 and 13 and 16 and 25. It’s all the same. It’s all so different.

The field is no field anymore, it’s now a proper little football pitch with a goal on each side. 

“What happened here then? That wasn’t there when we were little.” 

(Y/N) strolls across the field, twirling in her dress illuminated by the moon and the streetlamps. She looks like something out of a movie. He’s sure if he was a smarter man, more poetic, he’d be writing songs about her, poems, books.

 In that book Ted made him read, there’s this one line that Jamie suddenly remembers.

“She was dazzling-- alight; it was agony to comprehend her beauty in a glance”

He thought those were just big words for saying some girl was well fit. He thinks he might get it now.

“Yeah well, some of us put together some money and convinced the neighborhood council to finally turn it into a proper pitch.” 

“Some of you?"

“Mostly your mum, Simon, and I”

She meets his eyes across the field and his heart still does the same silly shimmy it did when he first saw her face. 

“Why?” 

“So another little 9-year-old kid gets to play with actual goals and doesn’t have to use plastic bottles.”

They did it for the kids, the community. But they mostly did it for him, for the child in his heart that never grew up. That is clinging to his insides and that only gets to live in his memories and in the hearts of the people he loves. The people that love him.

(Y/N) leans against one of the goalposts, a smile playing on her lips as Jamie strolls up to stand in front of her, hands buried in the pockets of his pants. His jacket is long forgotten on some chair back at the wedding venue.

“You know”, she says and lets her gaze drift upwards towards the sky. There is too much light to see the stars but Jamie thinks there’s still some kind of comfort knowing they are up there even when you can’t see them. The authors of the books Ted gives him, they’d have some flowery pretentious allegory to tell about all of this. He is no author, he's just a fool in love.

“This is where I had my very first kiss. Right here.” 

Jamie wonders if she knows of the little electric shocks she sends straight to his heart when she lowers her head and looks straight at him while speaking those words.

It’s not news to him. Of course, it’s not. 

He was there. 

“Oh, was it?”

“Yup.” 

“Hope the lad was alright.” 

“He was perfect — for a twelve-year-old. I was also 12 though so I had nothing to compare, really.” 

“What was he like? Lucky kid.” 

“He had this really badly bleached blond hair. Tried to do it at home with a cheap box dye. Didn’t listen when I told him it was a bad idea.” 

“I bet he looked fucking cool.” 

“Had a bit of an ego, that one. Still does. Bit misplaced for someone who looked like Draco Malfoy.” 

“You had a big fat crush on Draco Malfoy.” 

“Yeah,” he doesn’t know when it happens. One moment they’re joking around, strolling down memory lane and the next her hand is in his hair, his hand on her waist, noses almost touching. “I did.” 

“Do you wanna know a secret?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“That was my first kiss too.” 

There’s a flicker of surprise shining in her eyes.

“Huh? You said your first kiss was with Emma behind the playground.” 

“Well I was lying, wasn’t I? Wanted you to think I’m cool and experienced.” 

“We were 12 you dum dum. And I always thought you were cool.” 

He was not cool at 12. No one is cool at 12. It still makes him weirdly proud to hear her say it. 12-year-old Jamie would be positively buzzing at that revelation.

“I um — Jamie, why did we never talk about it again? I know we were 12 and whatever but it meant something to me. Did it mean anything to you?” 

Some memories, Jamie thinks, are meant to be shared. You want to tell everyone about them over and over again and it feels like you might burst if you don’t share them with others. 

And then there are memories that are meant just for you. Beautiful places to escape to. So you keep them hidden in your chest, apart from everything else but your heart when they beat in sync. And they become part of you. And they keep you alive. That’s where he keeps this kiss. The first one. The only one that ever mattered.

“It means everything to me. But I — I wanted to keep that kiss to myself. That was mine and yours and I didn’t want anyone or anything to ruin that or turn it into something bitter and sad. “

“If I were to kiss you again, would you also want to keep that a secret?” 

He shakes his head, his nose gently nudging her’s with the movement.

“Nah, I’d wanna scream it from the fucking rooftops.” 

When she kisses him he is 9 years old again, seeing his future staring right back at him through the face of a little girl. He is 12 years old kissing her in the field, a kiss he’d kept with his heart ever since. He is 14 crying on the floor of her room the night he got back from the Amsterdam trip with his dad. He is 16 and a prick to everyone but her. 

He is 25 and more in love than he’s ever been.

“50 fucking pence? Are you joking?”

“Nope. Dead serious.” 

“That’s fucking mental.” 

Her laughter echoes through the night as they walk down the familiar streets paved with countless memories. He#s holding her hand and he’s never felt more delighted about anything so simple. 

“They still taste fucking great though.” 

“They do, don’t they?” 

Leave it to (Y/N) to continuously surprise him. As they started their walk back towards her house, she pulled two Cadbury Freddos from her sparkly purse. Jamie can almost feel the sun on his skin from all the walks they did to the corner shop during summer holidays to get some Freddos and a smarties pop-up ice.

“Don’t tell Roy I ate chocolate though, he’s gonna kick me ass.” 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” 

Her childhood home is coming into view just down the road and with it the end of this night. The door is a deep red color, he remembers (Y/N) helping her dad paint it when she was maybe 10 or 11 and her parents never seemed to have changed it since. 

“Soooo what’s happening now?” 

It feels a little silly to ask but Jamie has spent so much time keeping his questions inside of his head and not voicing them to her and he wonders just how much time he wasted because of that. Time he could’ve spent with (Y/N).

“I — I don’t know, Jamie. I want this to be. I want us to be, always did. Probably always will. But I don’t want you to choose me because being home pushed you into some kind of nostalgia-induced stupor or something. I want you to be sure about us. So, how about you sleep on it and tomorrow morning you pick me up for breakfast and we’ll talk? “

If he’s being entirely honest, he doesn’t want to talk. All he wants is to kiss her and then kiss her some more. To make up for every second that he wasted not telling her how he felt. But she is being rational and sensible as always and he has to respect that. Out of the two of them, she was always the reasonable one while Jamie did first and then thought about it later.

“Okay yeah. I’ll see you in the morning then.” 

“Goodnight, Jam.” 

“Night, (Y/N). You look beautiful by the way, not sure I said it.” 

“Thanks, you look very handsome too.” 

There’s an I love you on the tip of his tongue and he so desperately wants to say it but when she places a kiss on his cheek and opens the red door, all his thoughts just slip from his mind.

“Bye, Jamie.” 

“Bye.” 

He stays stuck for a moment or two before his legs slowly carry him down the road. The night is inky black and the street lamps' horrid orange-hued light reflects against the asphalt. 

So many times he’s walked down this exact road wondering what could be. Wondering how to show her how much he loved her. Wondering if someday, somehow they would end up together. 

9-year-old Jamie knew she was his destiny from the moment their eyes met across the football field. What would he think seeing him now, walking away from all he ever wanted? 

What’s that quote from that romcom the team watched together the other day?

“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

The shiny black shoes he’s wearing are not meant for running. He figures that out as he turns on the spot and rushes back down the street toward the red door. There is no need for him to sleep on anything. He has never been more sure about anything in his life. Ever.

His heart is racing as he reaches the house, as he knocks on the door, and as he rings the doorbell — for good measure. 

His heart stops when she opens the door, her dress gone and exchanged for a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt.

“Jamie? You forgot something?” 

“I don’t need to sleep.”

“What?” 

“I don’t need to sleep on it. I know what I want. I want us, I want you. Always did. Always will. You’re the only person I want to talk to when I feel shit and you’re the first person I want to tell when something good’s happened. I want to ride my bike with you the way we did when we were kids and eat freddos with you even if they’re 50 fucking pence now, which is insane. I want to go to weddings with you and dress up fancy and I want to sit on the couch and watch movies with you we’ve both seen a million times. I want you to make fun of my stupid earring and have you help me dye my hair and I want to kiss you and tell you how beautiful you are every single fucking day. I want everything and anything as long as it involves you. And I don’t need to sleep on it. I am sure.” 

“Jamie?” 

“Yeah?!”

“Kiss me!” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

It feels right, to hold her and to kiss her. Like all his life has been leading up to this moment. To her soft lips on his and her hands in his hair and his hands on her waist.

And he thinks she might just feel the same. She doesn’t need to say it to let him know. She tells him with his tongue, with the gentle touch of her fingers against his skin, with her breath in his lungs. 

He is 9 years old and also 12 and also 14 and 16 and 20 and 25. He is all those versions of himself and each of them was and is in love with (Y/N).

[pandorasprongs]

PROLOGUE | hold on to the memories.

'it's nice to have a friend' fic masterlist + playlist

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.0k

SUMMARY: stories of jamie and reader's friendship over the years, from age 7 to 17.

WARNINGS: language, slight body image/appearance issues, slight panic attack, vague descriptions of sex

A/N: yay! finally starting this fic with sort of an overview/background on their relationship, but there will be more flashbacks throughout the chapters. no gif for this one cause tbh i could not find one that fits the vibes here, but regardless hope you all enjoy the prologue!

Age 7

"You mind handing that back over?" You hear a voice coming from the other side of the fence as you pick up a loose football.

You turn to find a boy around your age in a football kit. His hair was completely waxed to one side, probably to keep it from covering his eyes while playing. You recognize his uniform as your school's football team's, though you're not sure if you've seen him before. Then again, you didn't know anyone in town yet. You had just moved to Manchester a few months ago, just as the school year started and while you had a few people to talk to in class, you didn't have any solid friends really.

You toss the ball back to the boy, who catches it swiftly. You think that's the end of it, so you start heading back to your house when he calls out to you again.

"Hey! What's your name?" You answer him, with him nodding in acknowledgment. "I think I've seen you around the school. I'm Jamie."

He reaches over the fence and extends his arm for you to shake it, despite the fact that you were already at your front door. You walk back and shake it, as he asks, "Do you wanna play football? I got a game tomorrow, but Mum's too busy to play goalie."

You had hoped your look of glasses, multiple layers of clothes, and generally un-sporty demeanor was enough to dissuade offers to play, but this Jamie didn't really seem to care.

"Maybe another time," You reply, but this boy is persistent.

"Okay, do you wanna watch me score goals?" He offers before glancing at the book tucked under your arm and pointing at it. "You can read while I play."

Once you realize that he wasn't going to quit, you finally agree. You head back inside to tell your mom that you'd be playing with your neighbor for the afternoon and since you already finished your homework, she was more than willing to let you go. She always said you needed some fresh air, which was why you were outside in the first place.

You walk back to your yard to find Jamie still standing where you left him, but this time he was practicing his dribbling. He was pretty good from what you knew about football, and walk over to his side of the fence. He stops when he sees you and starts leading you to his backyard. There was a goal net in the far back and some cones set up, probably to practice maneuvering the ball better. 

Jamie turns to see if you're still following him and drags you to a small table with two chairs near the door to the house. "You can stay here and count my goals," he instructs you and you nod your head in understanding.

While Jamie kicked around the football, you continued reading your book, occasionally looking up at what the boy was doing. It was easy to keep track of the score since Jamie would be cheering like he just won the Premier League when he scored. 

After getting bored of reading, you decide to ask Jamie to teach you how to play. You see his eyes light up and immediately drags you up from your seat. The first thing he teaches you is how to dribble the ball. He held your hands the whole time to stop you from falling over, but that only seems to make it harder for you to move around.

Once you finally got the hang of that, — meaning you no longer tripped over your own feet — the next few hours were then spent teaching you the other basics of football like passing and shooting. You only started to get decent at shooting when you realized that the sun was already setting.

"I think I have to go home now," You tell Jamie, whose expression suddenly fell at your statement. You go and grab your book from the table and wave at the boy. "It was nice playing with you!"

If he said anything in reply, you didn't hear it because you sprinted back around the fence and into your house. You take off your shoes, relieving the ache of kicking around the ball, and go to tell your parents everything you did that day.

—

The next time you see Jamie was Friday morning. He spotted you leaving your house for school and invited you to his team's football game that afternoon. "You just have to stay in school a little later. My mum said your mum might get worried, so she told me to tell you now so you can ask her."

You run back inside to do just that and after informing her that the other parents would be chaperoning the game, she agreed. You also take the chance to get your scarf and gloves because you hadn't realized how cold it was outside. She went out with you to tell Jamie the good news.

"Thank you, Ma'am," he replied, causing your mom to let out a chuckle at how polite the boy became. She finally sends you off to school and Jamie decides to walk with you too.

—

You couldn't help but be amazed at how well Jamie was playing. You knew that he was at least decent based on how well he taught you that day, but he was practically scoring all the goals for his team. None of the opposing players could even catch up to him, at times. You wonder how he kept his energy up despite the fact that it was freezing outside and he was only in shorts.

After the game, his team got hot chocolate to celebrate their win. You go to congratulate him, but find it hard due to the number of people surrounding them. Jamie was looking for you too, so the moment he spots you trying to make your way through the crowd, he heads to you instead and pulls you aside.

"Did you like the game?" was the first thing he says to you.

You immediately nod, "Yeah, it was really fun to watch! Congrats on winning."

Jamie shrugs, "Thanks, but it's really nothing, we've been on a streak for a while." You don't know if he's just being humble or bragging about his team, but either way, you're happy they're doing well.

Afterward, Jamie decides to bring you to meet his mom. She's quick to embrace you and mentions that Jamie's been talking about you non-stop, much to the boy's embarrassment. She hands you a hot chocolate of your own and you're grateful to be able to warm your hands. You lost one of the pair around lunchtime, so you've been keeping your hands in your jacket pocket the whole day.

While Jamie goes to change, you stay with Georgie as you savor your drink. She notices the lack of cover on your right hand and gives you an extra pair that she kept in her bag. It's clearly too big for you and its orange color clashes with the blue and white on your left hand but you're grateful regardless.

Soon after, Jamie's rushing out of the locker room looking cozy in a sweatshirt under his winter jacket. He's wearing gloves as well and when he notices your mismatched gloves, he takes one of his off and switches them with the orange one. 

They're a much better fit and you thank Jamie for it. The boy adds, "My hands are bigger, so they won't slip off as easily." 

"Come on, let's go home!" He adds, grabbing one of your hands with his left and his mom's with his right as you walk off the pitch.

After coming home, your mom notices your new glove and decides to bring some cookies for the neighbors as a thank you. That started a months-long gift exchange between the two moms for reasons ranging from watching over their kids on weekdays to lending their kids a pencil for a standardized test. 

You didn't really mind it though, because it usually meant you'd get to hang out with Jamie longer. You spent countless weekends riding your bikes around town, playing football, and even camping in your backyards. The boy who threw that ball over your fence was quickly becoming your best friend.

—

Age 15

“Aww, my little girl is so grown up, now!” Your mom exclaims as she opens the door to see you in a pink knee-length sundress. You don’t know why she’s so shocked you’re wearing it considering that she was the one who bought it for you. “Hmm, but do you think you need a necklace?”

“Mom!” You whine and she immediately backs off. It’s not like you minded the suggestion, but you had your own issues to deal with and didn’t need your parents to get involved.

When you said yes to Tim asking you on a date, you knew you’d be both excited and nervous. But you didn’t realize how insecure it would make you. Your parents say all the time that it’s normal for kids your age — being insecure about your looks and body, — but that advice never seemed to help. As your mom leaves the room, you turn back to the mirror and sigh. Something was just off. The dress was pretty, the shoes matched, and your mom did great with your hair, but even then, you still aren’t satisfied.

You weren’t as experienced with make-up and fashion as the other girls in your school and you had long since accepted that. You just didn’t realize it would backfire on you in times like these. You sigh sharply again. If Tim really liked you, it wouldn’t matter that much right? You add the necklace your mom was suggesting before heading downstairs.

After a string of ‘oohs’ and ‘awws’ from your parents, you start heading to the restaurant. Most popular restaurants among your schoolmates were walkable and you didn’t want an even more awkward introduction with your parents there, going there by yourself was the best plan. You had gotten there early, so you settled on the bench outside the restaurant to wait for your date.

Maybe around the first half hour, you should’ve suspected something was off. But you stayed for another hour in case Tim actually showed up. God, you shouldn’t have believed he was sincere. Why would someone ask you out? You always kept to yourself in class, spent most of your time studying, and never even tried to go to parties or anything.

You check your phone again because some hopeful part of you thought he’d text you with a valid excuse, but all you see are some messages from classmates asking for notes and a missed call from your mum. You were not ready to face your parents right now, not after the hopeful looks on their faces that their daughter might be sociable for a night.

Instead, you call the only other person you can. Jamie makes it to the place in record time and the first thing you do is hug him. The moment you make contact with his body is the moment you let the tears flow from your face. It didn’t really matter at that point if people were staring: you just needed someone. You needed Jamie.

“I’m gonna murder that prick,” Jamie threatens as he reciprocates the hug.

“Please don’t,” you whisper into his chest. “I can’t have you going to jail right now.” Despite trying your best to say it jokingly, your voice is too hoarse to properly convey it.

After what felt like hours in that position, you finally let go. You soon realize that your streaming tears had stained Jamie’s shirt. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

The boy looks down and just shrugs. “It was getting too small for me, anyway.” That’s enough to put a smile on your face.

The two of you get into the car – Georgie’s car, since technically, Jamie only had a provisional license – and start driving back to your house. Maybe it was your wrecked emotional state, but you decided to outright ask, “Jamie, do you find me attractive?”

You gasp as Jamie almost crashes the car. You quickly clarify as he steadies the vehicle, “Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just, I don’t really know how I look to guys.”

“Right, sorry.” He says but doesn’t look away from the road. “I mean, you are pretty. As long as you don’t let it get to your head.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off Jamie, I’m not you.” You could list the number of times Jamie’s flashed that cocky smirk to girls at school during breaks. Those were some of the very few times you were embarrassed to be seen with him and you laugh at the reminder. But your smile quickly disappears when you look down at your outfit. “Do you think other guys think I’m pretty?”

Your voice is as soft as it’s ever been, not wanting to show how insecure you’re feeling at the moment. But Jamie can tell like he always does. You turn the corner to your house and he stops the car in the road and fully turns to you.

“Fuck those other guys. Fine, if you need someone to say it, I will. You are fucking gorgeous, especially tonight.” You cringe at his words, not used to having anyone say that about you, but he gets you to look at him again. “I’m serious. And Tim’s a fucking idiot for ditching you.”

Despite his harsh tone, the soft look in his eyes as he tries to comfort you almost makes you tear up again. As if it’s become a routine, you reach over and envelop him in a hug once more. To make up for the failed date, the two of you spend the rest of the night eating a tub of Neopolitan ice cream and soon enough, you forget that Tim even existed.

—

Age 17

Your teachers always said you were a good writer. But no one ever told you how fucking difficult it was to start your personal statement. You'd never realized how hard it is to prove you should go to university until you forced yourself to sit down and actually try and write something. You started with the outline route, trying to note all your academic achievements, extracurriculars, and things like that before you ended up boring yourself.

You've written 9 possible starting lines at this point, and in the end, you decide to just shut your laptop in despair. Try again tomorrow, you said to yourself. The same thing you said yesterday and the day before that. 

You go to lie down on your bed when you hear something hit your window. It's a light clinking sound, and you ignore it till you hear another one. You finally decide to check outside your window and hear shouting from above.

"God?" you ask hesitantly.

"Nope, just me," you look up to find Jamie Tartt sitting on his rooftop, almost giving you a heart attack.

"Get down from there!" You tell him immediately and instantly cringe at how similar your tone is to your mom’s. Jamie rolls his eyes at the order but obliges anyway. He starts going down the roof into his bedroom — carrying an empty bottle of beer in his left hand — and makes it through his window.  Once he's safe with his feet on the floor, he turns around to face you in your adjacent bedroom.

"Why'd you even go up there?" you question and Jamie, like always, simply shrugs.

"Felt like it," you shake your head at his reasoning. You knew your best friend could be reckless, but you didn't think he'd do something as stupid as that, especially before scouting season.

"So falling off and breaking your legs wasn’t something you thought could possibly happen?"

"Well, that’s why I have you to warn me," He exclaims, before going back to the conversation. "I'm coming over."

Both your sets of parents were out for the night and they'd known each other long enough to trust each other's kids enough, so neither of you needed to message them about it. You watch him sprint out of his room and after a few minutes, you here the doorbell ring.

You head downstairs and open the door to find a panting Jamie leaning on the frame. "3 minutes, new record time."

"Well, they do say I'm one in a million." He jokes as you let him inside and he takes off his shoes.

"Who's they, in this situation?"

"Mum." He says blankly, collapsing on the couch. "And Simon."

You laugh, before lifting his legs and shuffling on the opposite side of the couch. You rest them on your lap for a second, before a wave of stench from his feet hits you and you shove them off. Jamie goes back to sitting upright and he instead leans his head on your shoulder.

You turn on the TV and start browsing for a movie as your entertainment for the night. Most weekends were like this; hanging out in one of your houses, ordering pizza — which Jamie did as you looked through channels, — and relaxing on the couch.

The order was placed and you settled on the Hunger Games this time. You watched the first part of the movie in silence as usual, but once the pizza arrived, Jamie decided to change things up.

"Wanna play 20 questions?" You look at him curiously. You knew practically everything about each other, so why on Earth would you play a game that's every person's go-to icebreaker?

You don't have a chance to protest because after taking a bite of the pizza, he asks, "What were you doing before I got here?"

Your eyes widened at that. Maybe the one thing you never really talked about with Jamie was your future. Neither one of you would admit it, but there wasn't any chance that you two were going to be doing the same things in your career. You had academia and Jamie had football. It's hard to imagine something that kept the two of you together and also made both of you happy, so you never brought it up.

"Uh, I was having a wank," you joke but Jamie isn't amused. He continues to stare at you with an expression that you rarely ever saw; he was being serious. "I was trying to write my personal statement."

 You look cautiously at your best friend who is quiet for the first time tonight. He takes a bite of his pizza again and with a full mouth, says, "And? How's it going?"

You groan and lean your head back. "Fucking terrible. I can't think of anything to say about myself."

"The fuck do you mean? You're like the smartest person I know." He points out and while you're touched he thinks that, you sigh.

"Unis don't just look at grades anymore. They want substance and worldly impact from their applicants. How the fuck am I supposed to change our societal landscape at fucking seventeen?" You admit, and it's like a weight has been lifted off of you. You drop your plate of pizza on the table and lean into Jamie's side.

"You want me to write it for you? I've got a bunch of great things to say about my best friend." He offers and you finally let out a laugh. "I can put how fucking amazing you are at Scrabble, how you can predict the ending of a movie in the first 20 minutes, how loud your voice can get when you cheer me on at a football game, and how you can hear a song once and already figure out how to play it on the piano."

You look up to find Jamie giving you a wide smile and his happiness is contagious. But that feeling is almost instantly replaced when you remember the position you two are in and feel your heart beating faster.

You don't ignore the fact that Jamie has grown up a lot more in recent years: finally passing you in height, having more defined arm muscles, and definitely growing into his features. It's harder to feel normal when you do the things you did as kids like when he rests his head or arms on your shoulders, pulls you into his chest to stop you from walking in front of a passing car, or just like right now when you're leaning into him, his arm pulls you closer to his body.

You slowly pull yourself away, but then he grabs hold of your hand instead. You've held hands before, but again, there's just something different about now. You decide to leave it there before finally replying, "I'm sure with that kind of stories in it, they'll let me into fucking Oxford." The two of you laugh before you grab your plate of pizza again and turn to back to the movie.

—

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You hear someone say, as you turn the corner to your school’s locker room.

It was normal to hear the players get nervous before the finals, but hearing Jamie Tartt panicking was a whole new thing for most of your classmates. Some league teams had sent scouts for the striker in this game and while everyone knew he’d do great, it seemed like the school’s support still wasn’t enough to convince him of that.

When his teammates couldn’t snap him out of it, their Plan B was to call you.

“Sorry, I’m looking for my best friend, Jamie Tartt. Brown hair, blue eyes, kind of conceited, but pretty nice if you get to know him.” You start out jokingly, but when his panicked eyes landed on yours, you quickly shift gears. “Shit, sorry. Not the time for jokes, I guess.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m off my game right now,” He starts, still trying to catch his breath as he moves around frantically. You take his hands into yours in order to steady him, but when that doesn’t work, you grab him by his shoulders.

Usually, Jamie would be towering over you, but with his slumped posture at the moment, you were almost eye-to-eye with the guy. “Jamie, take a deep breath. Focus on me, okay?”

You’ve gone through this enough times — usually with you in Jamie’s place — to know how to calm him down.

He follows your directions and you slowly nod your head. “Keep breathing, just do that for now.” Jamie closes his eyes and slowly starts to steady himself. Your hands move from his shoulders to his hands like you initially planned.

“I know it’s fucking terrifying, but believe me when I say that you are incredible. You know how you always tell me that I’ll smash it as Model UN conferences? This time, I’m the one telling you you’re gonna be the best fucking player out there.” You pause for a moment in case he reacts, but all Jamie does is nod his head. “I believe in you. Georgie and Simon believe in you. Hell, this entire school fucking believes in you. I swear, I saw people planning a chant for you outside.”

That gets the player to laugh and you smile, seeing a glimpse of his usual self. “Also, I know I’m complimenting you right now, but better savor it cause I’m never inflating your ego like this ever again.”

“Not even when I help Man City get another win in my first year?” Jamie finally speaks up.

“I’ll be complimenting Pep, not you.” You playfully roll your eyes. “But to be able to do that, you have to get out and play today.”

Jamie straightens up and starts shaking away the nerves. He turns to head to his team, but not before giving you a quick hug and a ‘thank you.’ Once he enters the locker room again, you start heading back to your seat.

—

Age 18

"Do you really want to do this?" Jamie asks carefully, but you've already made up your mind as you pull him closer.

You were going off to university in a few months and Jamie would be doing his summer training soon. Both his and your parents were out of town on a couple's retreat, so it was either now or never.

You knew that going off for college would increase the chances of your first time being with a random guy you met at a frat party infinitely, so you could say it was a calculated decision to jokingly ask Jamie when you talked about it if he'd be willing to sleep with you.

You didn't really expect anything and for the first few seconds, Jamie was too in shock to actually reply. You immediately tried to dismiss it as a joke, but before you could, he replied, "Sure."

You knew that Jamie had already had sex with girls before, — hearing him try and sneak the girls out of his bedroom window was always a fun story to bring up the next day — so you thought that it would just be another one for him.

But that night was the most delicate you've ever seen him. He didn't rush you or make you feel uncomfortable. He checked up on you constantly, making sure it didn't hurt and you were actually enjoying yourself. You made sure to hug him after, — not being able to say any words of gratitude out loud, — and you eventually went to sleep like that.

You woke up the morning after, still with him beside you, but after you got changed and he went back to his house, neither of you brought it up again. You went back to your old routine of hanging out in the afternoons and movie nights as if nothing even happened.

And it really was for the best, considering that the next time you had sex really was in a frat house’s bathroom.

—

Now, you were loading the last of your things into your car for your family road trip to Cardiff, which was to also move you into your dorm. Your mom was recounting the boxes, making sure you didn't forget anything because in her words, "We are not driving 3 and half hours twice just to bring you your toothbrush." Your dad was in the kitchen fixing up snacks for the trip, so you decide to take this chance and finally say goodbye to your best friend.

You barely saw Jamie in the weeks leading up to this since he spent most of his time at training. Even on weekends, he would be passed out in his room from the painstaking drills of the days prior. So as you knock on their door, you aren't very hopeful.

It reveals Simon who instantly pouts and brings you in for a hug. You always appreciated him for how he accepted Jamie into his life, despite the latter's fears that he'd be just like his father.

"Come inside," He offers, but you shake your head. You had to leave soon and you didn't want to delay the trip any longer. “Alright, but I was actually baking some muffins that you guys can take on your drive there, and you can’t say no to those.”

You laugh as you nod, before asking, "Is Georgie home?" 

Simon calls out to his wife to tell her that you're about to leave. You soon hear quick footsteps descending the stairs before you are once again enveloped in a hug. 

Simon heads out to presumably pack up those muffins, but you're too distracted by the rising feeling of sadness as you say goodbye to the woman whose practically been your second mother for a decade.

"You stay safe, okay? I know you'll enjoy your life there, but don't make your parents worry too much. Cause then they won't be able to stop talking about you," You laugh at her prediction before giving her one last hug.

Simon races back to you with a brown paper bag which he hands over, along with a pat on the back. You turn around to see if there's any sign of your best friend, but Georgie answers that for you. "He said he might be running late at practice." You feel your heart sink, but do your best to mask it. You wave goodbye to the couple before walking to the car.

You hand your dad the bag of muffins and sigh, "We can go." Your parents exchange a look but oblige nonetheless. You start heading into the car when you hear the call of your name.

You turn to see Jamie, still in his kit — shorts and all, — running towards your house. You decide to meet him halfway and once he's close enough, the football player pulls you into a tight hug, as if he's never letting go.

"Did you really think I'd let you leave without saying goodbye?" He whispered into your shoulder.

"If you're in trouble for leaving practice early, that is not on me." You try and keep it light-hearted, but his laugh only makes the pit in your stomach feel worse.

"Call me, okay? As often as you can. And send me pictures of all the stadiums you're playing in. I don't care if you send ten pictures of Etihad Stadium in a row, just do it. If you ever come to Cardiff, take some time off to see me. And," you try and think of more things to say, but Jamie cups your face in his hands to make you stop.

"I'll see you during the off-season, yeah?" Jamie's look is soft and you can feel the dam stopping your tears about to break.

"Don't you fucking forget me, Jamie." You try and say as angrily as you can, but your voice cracks as Jamie pulls you into another hug.

The two of you finally separate and you head off to your car. You stop yourself from looking back as you get into your seat. 

Jamie doesn't take his eyes off you, though. He watches as your car starts and turns the corner off your street.

A/N: hope you all enjoyed this one! if you couldn't tell, some of these flashbacks were based on the song 'it's nice to have a friend' by taylor swift which is what inspired this whole thing! see you next week for the official first chapter !!

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Cruel Summer

no rules in breakable heaven

Pairing: Jaime Tartt x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ - smut(f receiving oral, other implied nonsense, cursing

Word Count: 5.5k

Author’s Note: clearly I’ve gotten caught up in the babygirl wave, my lovely wife @andr0medafallen helped me immensely and I love her. Also I’m just a slutty little virgin so I can’t be held accountable for any inaccuracies

Conversations are swirling around you, music is blasting from a building down the street, you’re keenly aware of the blood pumping in your veins, and you need a goddamn break.

You loved spending time with Keeley, you really did, but it’s hot and muggy outside, and this is the fifth party you’d been to in the past week. Tonight, at least, is with the Richmond boys, and not some friend of a friend of Keeley’s where all you do is stand in the corner and drink by yourself. Keeley, ever the social butterfly, is off chatting with Rebecca and Leslie, giving you the opportunity to focus on not losing your mind.

It’s strange, to feel so simultaneously alive and asleep, and you could swear you can feel the air buzzing in your ears. You simultaneously want to go to bed and to stay awake for the rest of the night, it’s like your mind can’t figure out what it needs.

And then Jamie’s walking over to you and the world comes back into focus.

The two of you aren’t very close, connected mostly through your separate friendships with Keeley, but from what you’ve heard from her and from the internet, he seems to be turning over a new leaf. Though, there was a part of you that enjoyed his bad boy attitude, even when he was a bit of a dick.

Maybe you just had a thing for men who were emotionally unavailable.

“Want me to walk you home?” Jamie says after a few seconds of standing next to each other in silence, shocking you out of your silent appraisal of your surroundings.

“Huh?” Clearly, your brain-mouth connection is taking a while to get up to speed.

“You seem kinda out of it, I know you came with Keeley, figured I should ask if you wanted to leave.”

The kindness of his offer is a little shocking in the way it’s so purely sweet, and again, your brain seems a little slow on the draw.

“I’m alright, I can call a car in a bit,” you tell him, not wanting to drag him away from a fun night just because he saw you acting all mopey and uncomfortable.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind getting outta here,” and then it’s clear to you that his offer is simply an excuse for him to leave the party, and while your heart drops a little you can’t say you blame him.

“What the hell,” you respond anyway, finishing your drink before you turn to follow Jamie out of the party, stopping by Keeley to let her know you’re headed home.

The walk back to your place is mostly silent, the air hanging heavy and thick as you try to figure Jamie out. It’s clear that he’s changed from the first time you’d met him, back when he was only Keeley’s douchebag of a boyfriend, shortly before his stint on reality TV. Now, though, he seems different in some way that you can’t quite puzzle out.

“Wanna come up?” You offer, your heart and your brain in a heated argument over how awful and irresponsible of a decision that is.

“Nah, I’m alright,” he sticks his hands in his pockets and you try not to let your heart sink onto the ground with this cool-guy routine of his.

Still, you thank him for taking you home and head up to your apartment, flicking off your shoes and berating yourself for acting the way you did. Even though you’re an adult, and wanting to sleep with someone doesn’t make you a bad person, there’s a layer of guilt that hangs over your simple question, over your desires.

Maybe it’s because he’s Keeley’s ex, and even though she’s moved on and found her perfect match, girl code says you shouldn’t even look at him. Maybe it’s because as far as you know, he’s an awful person who would treat you like nothing. Or maybe it’s because he’s actually worked on himself and you’re going to self-sabotage anything good that could even possibly happen.

The guilt you taste at the back of your mouth doesn’t change the fact that you want him, though, so you throw a longing glance out your window and are surprised to see Jamie still standing on the street below. As quick as you can in your old building, you unlatch the window and push it open, sticking your head out.

“Change your mind?” You ask, a grin spreading on your face when Jamie jumps at the sound of your voice.

“That ok?” He throws back, looking a little bashful and so unfairly adorable that he makes you a little dizzy. You just nod in response, and he seems to get the message because he disappears from view and a few seconds later, there’s a knock at your door.

Briefly, you wonder if he ran up the stairs.

There’s a part of your brain that keeps screaming about how this is a bad idea, that come morning you’re going to regret this, but you do your best to ignore it as you close the door behind Jamie and press your lips to his. His hands find your waist, settling there with a firm grasp, and you hope you never need oxygen again.

It’s addicting, the way he touches you, the way he kisses you, and you do your best to ignore the alarm bells ringing in your mind that you’re never going to be able to move on from this and instead just enjoy yourself. Moving on autopilot, you find yourself at your bedroom door, and feeling lightheaded you pull away from Jamie and rest your forehead on his.

“Can I?” He breathes against your mouth, fingers grasping the bottom hem of your shirt. You nod enthusiastically, your nose brushing against his. Once your shirt is flung somewhere into the depths of your room, Jamie’s hands settle on your bare ribs.

Pushing every worry you have to the back of your brain, you follow Jamie’s lead and, with his help, pull his shirt over his head as he walks you back towards your bed. Obviously, you’d known he was fit, but seeing him so close, so open to your touch is a whole other feeling. You want to trace his entire body, his scars and bruises and tattoos, first with your hands and then with your mouth.

“This is just a one time thing, yeah?” Jamie asks as your hands settle onto his jaw, trying to bring him in for another kiss.

“Yeah, of course,” you respond, being the cool girl you know you’re meant to be even as you fantasize about hearing the stories behind his tattoos and spending mornings together.

It’s practically impossible for you to keep your hands off of him, every layer removed giving you more of his skin to explore. Jamie, though, seems just as greedy as you are, kissing and touching his way across your body. You feel alive, electric in ways you’ve never felt before. It’s as if every moment you spend with Jamie, he takes up more and more space in your brain, until he’s all you can think about.

Jamie, as he bites that sensitive spot underneath your jaw bone with a grin.

Jamie, as he trails kisses down the center of your body, from your sternum to your belly button.

Jamie, as he moves lower and lower, his hands resting on your inner thighs.

Jamie, he’s all you think about until you can’t think of anything, your mind shut off and your body rewired as you feel like you’re exploding from the inside out.

And then everything comes rushing back in, all the sounds and scents and feelings of your apartment, all the thoughts you’d tried to keep away. You still haven’t said anything, focusing on breathing and not floating away.

“You need water or something?” Jamie asks from his spot on the pillow next to you, watching as your breath continues to heave in and out of your chest.

“This is my place, shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You retort once it feels as if your heart won’t escape your chest.

“There aren’t any rules about who gets water.” You watch as a smirk grows across his face, “Besides, you look like you need it more than me.”

Trying not to give in to his teasing, you hide your face in your hands and groan, “Maybe that means you should have been trying harder.” He shrugs, conceding before he slips off your bed and begins the hunt around for his clothes. You wish you could ask him to stay, even just for a few minutes longer, but instead you shrug on a large t-shirt and walk him to the door.

“See you around,” you offer as you lean in the doorway, Jamie making his way to the stairs.

“Yeah, sure, see ya.” And then you're left all alone again, your brain running wild within your skull, so you make your way back to your bed in the hopes that you can fall asleep and pretend you aren’t regretting all of your life decisions.

The next few times you see Jamie, the two of you talk sparingly, sticking mainly to waves across the room or slightly uncomfortable smiles. And it’s a shame, because you’ve found that you actually enjoy talking to Jamie, but now you’re not so certain you can handle yourself around him.

Even though you know Jamie’s not looking for a relationship, it’s hard not to think about what you’d be like together, if you’d even work out, because in your mind, what’s the point of trying if you know you’re going to fail? Why would you enter into a relationship with someone if you know it couldn’t possibly last?

“Hey,” a voice says from behind, shocking you out of your introspection. You jump, ready to scold whoever snuck up on you when you hear Jamie’s laughter, happy and loose.

“Jesus, Jamie, you scared me to death,” you tell him as his laughter dies down, eyes scanning for anyone watching your interactions. You know that no one cares, that people have casual relationships all the time, but you can’t help but feel like you’d be judged for doing the same.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks, and you can tell from his voice, from his eyes, from the way he’s holding himself, what he’s really asking you.

“I thought that was a one time thing?” You hide your smile by taking a sip of your drink and delighting in the way Jamie’s cheeks redden.

“What I meant was, it’s just a no-strings-attached thing.”

“I’m flattered,” you tell him, already turning to leave and planning your text to Keeley that you hadn’t felt well and called an Uber to leave early.

Instead of an Uber, though, you find yourself pressed up against Jamie’s car, his hands holding your waist and his tongue down your throat. As much as you loved the attention, you pulled away, placing a gentle hand on his cheek when he tried to follow.

“Someone could see,” you whisper against him, trying to keep an ear out for anyone else leaving the small party at Colin’s house. This seems to bring Jamie back to his senses, though, because he unlocks his car and slips inside, but only after he kisses you one last time.

The drive to his place is short, leaving the two of you sitting in his driveway, no sounds but the noises filtering in through the cracked windows. There’s something about this, about him, that just feels like summer, like late sleepless nights and days spent in bed.

Even though neither of you have spoken about it, you can tell that whatever relationship you have with Jamie ends with the summer. You know this is for the best, knowing that once training and games pick up again he’ll barely have time for friends, let alone any other kind of relationship, but you hate the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. It feels like there’s an expiration date, some dark cloud looming over your sunny day, and it’s making it hard to enjoy the time you do have with Jamie.

You’d never say any of this to him, though, because you’re not even sure if you’re really friends, if this relationship you have is anything beyond physical. It’s not as though you sit around pining after Jamie Tartt all day, but you can’t help but feel left out whenever you see him with his actual friends, as if you’re missing something important about him. The two of you have a surface level connection, and you’re fine with that, you really are, it’s just hard not to get caught up in your own head.

Jamie, though, is doing his best to get rid of seemingly every thought you have, leaning over the center console to kiss you again. It’s cramped and a little awkward and you don’t have any room to move around, but you can’t stop. Eventually, the two of you break apart for long enough to stumble into Jamie’s house and then you’re being pushed backwards to his bedroom.

The realization hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever been to Jamie’s house, and you can’t help but look around his bedroom, taking in all of his choices in decorations and knick-knacks.

“That’s a pretty color,” you say absentmindedly, starting off into his room.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” Jamie asks, pulling back from where he’d been sucking a mark onto your chest.

You can’t help but laugh, loud and unrestrained, as you run your fingers through the strands of hair hanging in Jamie’s eyes, giving them a gentle tug. Looking down after you catch your breath, you notice Jamie smiling at you and suddenly you feel too exposed, too open and you want to turn and run and never see him again but instead you use your light grip on his hair to pull him up for a kiss.

There’s a strange feeling deep in your stomach, one that you plan to ignore for as long as you can because it’s distracting you from Jamie. At first, you’d just thought it was the want filling your body, the urge to pull him impossibly close and feel him impossibly deep, but the feeling’s still there hours later as you lie boneless and sleepy.

Jamie’s off getting you some water, even though you never asked for any, and when he returns you’re dozing on his pillow, resisting the urge to snuggle under his sheets.

“You can just stay here tonight, if you want,” Jamie offers, sitting on the other side of the bed and staring off into space before quietly adding, “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Your bed is pretty comfortable,” you reply, thankful that you don’t have to get up and go searching for your clothes.

Instead, Jamie hands you the glass of water and a t-shirt, one that you gratefully slip on before getting under the covers. You fall asleep almost immediately, exhaustion spread throughout your entire body and mind, so you never know that Jamie lies awake almost the whole night, staring at the ceiling and trying not to wake you up or think about how perfect you look while asleep next to him.

When you do wake up, it’s with the sun streaming through the windows and Jamie’s arm slung over your waist. The two of you are impossibly close, both sharing the same pillow despite the size of his bed. It pains you to notice that he’s incredibly adorable when he’s sleeping. Part of you wants to kiss him all over and wake him, but the other just wants to let him sleep forever, watching as he breathes.

Luckily, you don’t need to make that choice, as Jamie’s eyes flutter open and you can see when he realizes just how close the two of you are and he tries to play it smooth but he scoots back to the side he fell asleep on.

“Did you sleep alright?” He asks, and you’re more focused on the scratchy way his voice sounds than the actual question. You just nod, hoping that was the right answer and delighting when he smiles, all soft and sweet and just for you.

You need to leave, get out while you still can before you end up spending the whole day with Jamie, because you know if you stay for a second longer you’re never going to want to leave him. Most of your time together was spent sleeping, but it's already almost impossibly hard to leave him. While you still have your resolve, you slip out of his insanely comfortable bed and go hunting for your clothes. It kills you a little inside when Jamie doesn’t stop you.

“Want me to drive you?” He asks, sitting up and moving to get out of bed and you need to stop yourself from staring at his toned chest, at the shorts low on his hips.

“No, I can just walk, it’s a nice day,” you lie, having no idea what the weather was like but hoping that summer wouldn’t let you down. Jamie nods, settles back into bed, and you could swear your heart physically aches because none of this should be happening.

You shouldn’t even be here in the first place, but here you are not wanting to leave. You shouldn’t be staring at him, with his mussed hair and his tattoos on full display. You shouldn’t have any feelings for him besides physical attraction and the basic feelings of friendship, but you’re starting to worry about that feeling in your belly that just grows and grows every second you spend with Jamie.

“See you around,” you tell him, leaving as quickly as you can before you convince yourself to stay any longer. You wander around London, all turned around and trying to find your flat without thinking of Jamie, while Jamie sits at home and tries not to think of you.

The rest of your day is spent doing meaningless activities, chores and work you’d been putting off for weeks. You wash your sheets and clean your fridge and respond to emails, trying your hardest to keep your mind off Jamie. It’s impossible, and the second you find yourself distracted, your mind wanders right back to him. What you really need is to leave your house, find someplace with blasting music and bodies pressed impossibly close, somewhere that you’ll have no space to think of anything, let alone Jamie.

Lucky for you, Keeley stays busy, always having one event or another she needs to go to and she always lets you tag along. Tonight your mission is to stop thinking of Jamie, even if that doesn’t mean going home with someone else. Just for a few hours, you don’t need him consuming your every thought.

Unfortunately for you, Jamie is always welcome with Keeley and has the same exact plan as you.

The air inside the bar is stifling, as if there’s no air conditioning and no windows, just the thick summer heat. You notice Jamie almost immediately, though it would be impossible not to with his highlights and his beaming smile, like your own personal sun. As much as you try to fight it, you can’t help but wonder if he noticed you at all, if he thinks of you at all when you’re not together.

You’re two drinks deep and you can’t help but think about Jamie, about what he thinks of you. Are you really just someone to fuck, someone who’s attractive enough for him to sleep with you whenever he feels the urge?

You’re three drinks deep and you can’t help but wonder if you could ever be anything more to him, if he’d ever want that. It’s common knowledge that Jamie’s still a little hooked on Keeley, and who could blame him, but are you really just a distraction?

You’re four drinks deep and you can’t stop crying, the tears flowing like rivers as Keeley and Rebecca try their best to comfort you, to calm you down. Eventually, Rebecca calls you a car and Keeley waits with you, ready to leave and make sure you get home safely.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I promise,” you say through your sobs as you sit in the backseat on your way to your apartment, Keeley rubbing up and down your arms in a soothing manner.

“This isn’t about Jamie, is it?” She asks in that kind, understanding voice of hers and it only makes you cry harder.

“I think I love him and it fucking sucks.” Keeley’s hand moves to smooth over your hair as you lean against her, all the fight draining out of your body.

“Babe, just tell him.” You can’t help but shoot her a glare, one that she brushes off with a laugh, “What’s the worst that could happen? He won’t sleep with you anymore?”

Your mouth drops open, shocked to your core that Keeley knew about what the two of you had been doing and your heart breaks a little more because you feel like you’ve just betrayed one of your best friends. Keeley, though, gives you a supportive little squeeze, one that tells you that she isn’t mad at all.

That was one of your favorite things about Keeley, how supportive she is of all of the people she loves, no matter the situation. She’s wise beyond her years and is the kind of person who will go out and get whatever she wants through her own hard work and determination. Keeley is absolutely someone you need on your side, and it hits you just how thankful you are for her and all she does for you.

Here you are, sobbing over a boy, and Keeley does nothing but support you and try to help you calm down. She doesn’t look at you like you’re over-dramatic or crazy and instead is doing her best to fix whatever was making you feel this way.

“Clearly, this whole situation-ship is hurting you, and if he doesn’t want the same things as you, maybe it’s time to let it end,” she finishes with another loving squeeze, just as the car pulls up outside of your building.

The two of you slide out of the car, Keeley offering you her hand as she helps you up to your apartment and you’re left reeling by what she’s said. You didn’t even know you wanted something more until it hit you like a ton of bricks tonight, Jamie consuming your thoughts in all the wrong ways. You know Keeley’s right, that whatever you have going on is only going to hurt you in the long run, so you resolve to tell him everything the next time you see him.

Keeley’s wise words from the car and the glass of water she gave you before she left after confirming no less than ten times that you were okay have you sobering up rather quickly. You’re left feeling embarrassed and exhausted to the bone, wanting nothing more than to lay down in your bed and stay there for the next hundred years, but suddenly there’s a knock at your door and Jamie’s standing outside.

“Keeley let me in, hope that’s ok,” he tells you, seeming slightly uncomfortable and you briefly wonder if it’s because of your puffy eyes and slightly disheveled appearance, embarrassment coursing hot through your blood. “Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Jamie always keeps you on your toes, and though you know this isn’t a big deal, it warms your heart all the same. Jamie Tartt, drama queen footballer and prick reality star, is at your front door to see if you’re ok because you left a bar crying. You’d promised yourself that the next time you saw Jamie, you’d sit him down and talk about your feelings, vowing that you wouldn’t hide them anymore.

But here Jamie is, being all sweet and concerned, and that plan goes out the window. There’s just something about him that makes all the sense leave your body, so instead of having a conversation about your feelings you pull him down by his shoulders and kiss him.

It’s messy and desperate, and even though you’ve sobered up since leaving the bar, your head is spinning and your thoughts are starting to become consumed with Jamie. There’s a weight behind it this time, one that you’re sure the both of you are aware of, because Jamie’s hands are gripping your waist with a bruising force and you barely even pull away from him to breathe.

Both of you know something is going to change.

As you make your way to your bedroom, clothing is thrown down the hallway, a sock here and a shoe there, until you almost trip trying to remove your pants. Luckily for you, though, after what seemed like a miles long walk, you finally reached your bedroom door.

Jamie pushes you gently inside, breaking the kiss but staying close enough to breathe the same air, and he keeps pushing you back until the back of your knees hit the bed and you fall onto it with a sound of surprise. Jamie just smiles, but it’s soft in a way that makes your insides melt and not the cocky smile he has whenever he scores a goal.

You scramble to sit up, to take your shirt off, but your brain shuts off when you see Jamie get on his knees in front of you. More gently than you ever could have imagined, he tugs on the hem of your pants, bringing them down your hips until you need to push off of the bed to get them down the rest of the way. He continues to pull until they slip free of your feet, and by the time he’s standing again you’re throwing yourself upward to kiss him.

There’s just something about him that makes you want to be near him all the time, like a moth to the flame. It doesn’t feel self destructive though, and that’s what scares you. It scares you that you might be hurting yourself without knowing but it scares you more that this might not hurt you at all.

It’s always a little shocking to you just how gentle Jamie is, the soft way he cradles your jaw when he kisses you and the way he runs his hands up and down your back when he can tell everything is starting to get overwhelming. Of course, he can be plenty rough and you have the bite marks on your thighs and the hickeys on your chest to prove it, but it seems like it’s in his nature to be soft with you.

“You sure you wanna do this?” He asks, fingers playing gentling with the hem of your shirt.

“100%,” you reply, and give him a quick kiss to reaffirm your statement. Now, he wastes no time in pulling off your shirt and starting to remove his own clothes. It makes you pause, standing there by the foot of your bed in the process of removing your bra, because suddenly he’s shirtless and it never gets any less surprising despite the many times you’ve been in this situation.

It’s not like your being subtle in your ogling, and Jamie just smirks when he sees you staring. He pushes you back onto the bed, softer this time, and you scoot yourself backwards until your head is resting on the pillows. Jamie joins you, pushing your legs open wider so there's room for him to lay in between them.

Then, you’re almost certain you’ve died and gone to heaven because he’s slipping his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugging them over your hips and down your thighs. You’re absolutely no help, lying there pliant for him to maneuver however he sees fit because you’re fully convinced your brain has stopped working.

It’s a little startling, how well Jamie knows your body. He always knows the right pressure and movement and location to make you see stars, make your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drop open. You’d think that he’d be all bark and no bite, but it’s so clear to you now that he has the skills to back up his attitude.

You have the bite marks to prove it.

Your fingers are itching for something to grab onto, something more substantial than grasping at your bedsheets, so you gently twist Jamie’s hair around your fingers, just enough to ground you, to keep you anchored to your body when you feel like you’re seconds from floating away.

It feels too good, too overwhelming, you’re unable to control any of the sounds that come out of your mouth. Jamie’s hands are gripping, digging into the flesh of your thighs and it stings where his fingernails dig in but it’s so perfect you can’t help the way you whine.

The connection between your brain and your mouth must be severed because you keep babbling away about how good, how perfect everything feels. You’re not thinking at all, only able to focus on the feelings building deep in your belly until Jamie licks at your clit with the perfect amount of pressure and you just fucking lose it. Your mouth drops open and you’re completely unaware of the sounds that come pouring out of your mouth until, “I fucking love you.”

It’s like you’ve been doused in a bucket of ice water and Jamie’s pulling away and you’re fucking terrified and the pleasure that’s been building inside your body is completely replaced with dread. After you feel Jamie pulling back, you turn your gaze from the ceiling down to between your legs where Jamie still lies.

He just grins, looking like sin himself with your slick making his mouth all shiny and glossy. And then he gets right back to work, nipping at your inner thigh before doubling down his attention, working twice as hard and you don’t even remember what you’ve said because you’re thrown headfirst back into the intensity of Jamie’s full skill and attention.

It’s only seconds later when you’re almost certain that you’ve died, feeling like an exploding star as your back arches off the bed and you dig your fingers harder into Jamie’s hair and your mouth falls open again. When you regain your sense of existence, your body feels tingly all over as if the remnants of your orgasm are still coursing through your veins.

Breathing hard, you look down to see Jamie resting his head on one of your thighs, just waiting for you to come down from your high. He places a kiss over one of the marks he made on your inner thigh before he crawls up the bed to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

He disappears after that, and you’re a little worried that he’s left you like this before he comes back a few minutes later, with a glass of water and a plate of snacks. The thought of him trifling through your cupboard makes your heart stutter a little and you’re so overwhelmed with feelings that you can only manage to give him a small smile in thanks.

The two of you sit quietly side by side on your bed, eating the snacks Jamie had brought. He checks in on you again and again, making sure you’re totally comfortable. And then, he clears his throat and shifts around, looking uncomfortable and you can feel your heart rising into your throat, dread gripping at your stomach.

“Are we gonna talk about what you said?” He asks, tracing shapes on the bare skin of your knee as he talks and looks anywhere but your face.

“I think I meant it,” you tell him, feeling as if your whole world is crashing down around you. There are other important things in your life, work and friends and family, but there’s something about Jamie that even after the limited time you’ve had together, the thought of losing him makes you sick to your stomach.

“Good, that’s good to know.” He goes quiet for a moment but his fingers never still in their drawing, “I think so too.”

“Good,” you tell him with a smile, one that he returns and it makes you want to cry because he’s so gorgeous and wonderful and you won’t be losing him after all, there’s a hope for you, a future, and that’s all you need.

You know nothing is certain and there are plenty of things that could go wrong, but you try to bask in the afterglow of what’s been confessed the same way you’d lay in the sunshine. You feel warm and happy and you’re determined to hang onto those feelings, to enjoy the time you spend with Jamie instead of worrying that everything will come crashing down.

There’s just something about him, something that makes your worrying come to a pause whenever you’re with him. He brings you an unexpected sort of peace, one that you vow to enjoy now that you’re not worrying when it will disappear, when he’ll disappear. For once, that feeling in your chest isn’t one of anxiety but one that you’re convinced is love.

You love Jamie Tartt, and that thought isn’t as scary as it once was.

Tags: @andr0medafallen @pazvizslasprincess @scaramou @parcelofbread @lightninginab0ttle @curlypeter @maggiecc @percysaidnever

[discokicks]

BAD IDEAS (ON THE SAME PAGE) — JAMIE TARTT

a fic inspired by bad idea right by olivia rodrigo!

masterlist! song inspo! AO3!

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)

summary: football star jamie tartt is an asshole. he’s the one ex of yours that your friends always hated, one that you now all joke about, and one you haven’t spoken to in four years. however, after a chance encounter, the two of you reconnect, and he leaves you with his new number and a hundred questions about his reformed personality. but seeing him tonight would be a bad idea, right?

word count & rating: 11k (wowza), M! (18+! minors get away or i’ll narc on you to your guardians)

warnings: SMUUUUUUT, porn with plot, lots of suggestive language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, sprinkling of a handjob, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kids), angst, mentions of alcohol, probable secondhand embarrassment, exes reuniting (it needs a warning sometimes), jamie tartt was an asshole and is now just a prick (in the best way possible), reader is a physio, major fluff, and swearing. also reader is american (bc the author is too. sorry </3)

authors note: well. i wrote it. olivia wrote this song for teenage girls in their twenties (me) only and i immediately thought of this fic the second i heard it. i'm calling this an exercise in smut writing before i embark on my aces (my roy kent series for my new friends) eventual-smut-adventure, so this evolved into something i wasn’t expecting but i had so much fucking fun writing it. god, i love jamie tartt. also! this is my first smut fic at this type of level, so go easy on me. hope you all enjoy. love you all tons! -mags

There are two universal truths in life. 

The first is that the coffee shop you frequent on your way to work will and will always have the best cold brew you’ve ever tasted. The second is that Jamie Tartt will and will always be a massive fucking prick, and you’ll never see him again for as long as you live.

These are two things you live by, and while they may seem rather mundane or petty in the grand scheme of things, they are the only truths you can count on these days. Especially when everything else is so up in the air.

However, the universe doesn’t seem to believe in these things as blindly as you do, and this becomes evident the moment that you step into the shop on a gloomy Wednesday morning. Because these two truths (well, they’re fucking bald-faced lies now aren’t they, huh?) are broken within approximately two minutes of each other with seven words.

It began when you greeted Natalia, the barista who was here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before your shift at the clinic with a wide smile. As soon as she saw your face, her expression turned apologetic, albeit a bit dazed.

“You’re gonna hate me,” she says, putting her hands on either side of the register. Your brows shot up at her words. “We just ran out of cold brew.”

Your face falls. “You’re kidding.”

“We were low on it this morning,” she starts to explain, “our stupid night-shifters didn’t prep enough last night. And it’s been selling like crazy today.”

“Seriously?” you nearly whine. “I might cry.”

“I’m sorry, Doc,” she apologizes, but she doesn’t sound too apologetic. Natalia’s eyes keep shifting to your left, the dazed look in her eye never faltering. Then, she says the fated seven words. “But he took the last of it.”

You turn your head in the direction she’s been looking, and your blood runs completely cold. You think you could drop dead and go to hell at this very moment, and it’d be a better existence than what awaits you in the next five minutes. And while this all may sound dramatic, you don’t care. 

You don’t care because Jamie fucking Tartt is standing across from you, newly long hair peeking out from beneath his hood. He’s engrossed in whatever’s on his phone, fingers flying back and forth like he’s texting. 

You think you could run. You’re pretty sure you could successfully make a break for it and leave Natalia high and dry without him seeing you. It’d be an easy exit, and you’d never have to see him again.

But then, as if he can feel your eyes on him, he looks up. And the second he meets your gaze, his face falls in what you can imagine was a similar fashion to yours. 

Fuck.

Luckily, Natalia is none the wiser. She barely notices your expression, and with Jamie by the pick-up area, she can’t see the way he’s looking at you. So, instead of questioning you, she straight-up giggles.

“I know,” she practically squeals. “I was totally going to save you the last of it, but he asked for it. And I mean, c’mon. It’s Jamie Tartt. I couldn’t possibly say no to him.”

You tragically know that feeling all too well. Knowing you probably would have had a snappier, more cutting response to that if you weren’t in the most debilitating phase of shock, you settle for a quiet, “It’s okay.” You nod at her, brushing it off in an attempt to be casual. “I can settle for an espresso today.”

Natalia nods, tapping it into her register. “Same size as usual?”

“Yeah,” you say, not completely sure what you’re agreeing to. You glance over again at Jamie and find that he’s still standing there, staring at you, and you immediately blink away. “That’s fine.”

The rest of the transaction feels as though it takes a millennium and three seconds all at once. You’re still caught off guard by the time Natalia gives you your receipt with a dazed look in your eye that now matches hers. 

However, yours isn’t because you just saw your favorite Richmond player or your favorite reality show villain. It’s because you’ve just seen your ex-boyfriend and you’re about to walk over and stand next to him for a prolonged period of time.

Nothing about this scenario feels real. You hadn’t seen him in four years. Not since things ended as ugly as they had, with him leaving you sobbing outside of a club at three in the morning, letting you know that things were over between you two. And he hadn’t even given you a reason. It was just that he wasn’t ‘feeling’ it anymore.

You saw in a tabloid about three months later that he was now seeing Keeley Jones (yeah, having to compete with that did not sit well with you at all) and had drawn your assumptions from there. Whether or not he’d been seeing her behind your back or had broken up with you to be with her, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. You were in your anger stage of the break-up and only knew one thing.

Jamie Tartt was a massive fucking prick, and you’d sooner walk on a bed of nails before you saw him again.

But now here he was. And there were no nails to be found.

You avoid eye contact as you pass him to wait for your coffee. There’s a piece of you that wants to say hi and play it cool, just to put on a show for him about how unaffected you were by everything that had happened. The other piece of you hopes that not a word is said for your entire time here.

Unfortunately, neither of those happen.

Jamie slides over to be near you, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels. His hands are stuffed in his sweatshirt pocket, and you wait for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t.

Instead, you can feel the ‘play it cool’ part of you rise up to the surface. You could do this. You could feign indifference. Fuck him, you could be cool.

You glance over at him and see that he’s pressing his lips together, eyes shifting around the coffee shop. It’s crazy how familiar you still are with his tells to know he’s desperately looking for a way to say something. 

You say it for him. “Hi,” you say simply. Cool and unaffected.

It’s as if the one word alone makes him flinch. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to say anything. “Hi—” He clears his throat after his greeting comes out cracked, and he stuffs his hands further in his pockets. “Hey.”

The awkwardness of this moment is killing you, and it’s taking everything in you to pretend like it's not. As you search for something else to say, you land on, “You took my cold brew.”

You can see his brows shoot up out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, fuck, did I?” 

You nod slowly. “Yeah,” you tell him. “I come in here every morning. Friends with the barista. Said she was going to save me the last of it, but…” You trail off and finally look at him. “She couldn’t say no to Jamie Tartt, apparently.”

You want to jump up and down about how well you’re doing right now. Maybe you are over him. Maybe you’ve finally moved past this shit, and seeing him once more is all you needed to solidify that. Maybe—

The second he chuckles softly with an apologetic smile, your confidence in those things shoots down. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Since when do you drink cold brew, anyway?” you ask, frustrated with the fact that he’s fucking laughing in front of you. “You were always a like, caramel macchiato or frappuccino asshole.”

The names make him laugh harder, shaking his head. “Don’t like those anymore,” he responds. “Sugar hurts me teeth. Tryin’ somethin’ new.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “My fucking coffee.”

That chuckle continues with a shrug. “I’m sorry.” he says again. Then he pauses. “But it’s not like your name was on it, or anythin’.”

Your face draws blank, and immediately, Jamie can tell he’s made a misstep. And it’s not that you’re angry about the joke, it’s just the… everything. Him. The situation. Everything you can remember that you wonder if he bothers to remember too.

Before you can walk away, you feel his hand on your arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats for a third time, turning you so that you’ll look at him. Your pissed-off expression meets his easy smile and it only fuels your anger more. “I was jokin’. I’m sorry I took your coffee. We can get ‘em to put your name on it if you want.”

“Whatever,” you mutter. It’s not the most mature thing you could have said, but frankly, you don’t care. You just want to get your consolation espresso and get the hell out of here. “What are you even doing over here anyway?”

You’re not sure why you ask it. You don’t know why you keep the conversation going. Jamie looks just as surprised as you are. “I moved over here a couple weeks ago,” he answers. “Got sick of the old place.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you reply. By the way that Jamie snorts, you know he recalls just how much you hated his apartment when you knew him. It screamed twenty-two-year-old AFC-money shithead and you would tease him about it constantly. “Was the empty beer bottle sculpture finally giving you mold poisoning?”

He chuckles again. “That came down shortly after we stopped talking.”

“Oh, so I was just lucky enough to see it in its final days?”

“Oi,” he says, pointing at you. “That thing was fuckin’ impressive and you know it.”

“Impressive in a dorm,” you shoot back. “Not a seven million pound flat.”

He bows his head in a guilty manner. “You remember that, huh?”

“Hard not to,” you answer. “You never stopped talking about it.”

He at least has the decency to wince at that one. “I know,” he says earnestly. It makes you look at him. He shrugs once more. “I wanted to impress ya.”

He did impress you. But not with things like that. He’d impress you when you watched him play, he’d impress you when he made you laugh, and he’d impress you on the rare occasion that he’d just be himself in front of you. Not some asshole footballer. Just him.

But you don’t say that. You say, “That wasn’t the way.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Got that now.” He rocks back on his heels again, like he’s not sure if he should say whatever he wants to. “I was a proper fucking dick to you, wasn’t I?”

That almost makes you fall over. Did he just say that? Did he actually just admit that? Out loud, here, for everyone to hear? Accountability? Unprompted? From Jamie Tartt? 

You want to glance around to see if Rod Sterling’s going to emerge from the bathroom to narrate the next couple of minutes of your life, but are too shocked to do so. 

Your surprise must show in your eyes, because Jamie laughs to himself. “Yeah. Wild, innit?” He shakes his head. “On a bit of an apology tour this year. Trying to build back some bridges, or whatever.”

The nod you give him is slow, still reeling from all of this. “Right,” you say lamely. “Building bridges.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you and for a brief moment, you think he may just mean it. The sincerity in his eyes is clear. “I was terrible to you. And I’m sorry.”

Whatever you were expecting when you stepped into this coffee shop on this rainy Wednesday, it certainly wasn’t this. And you certainly weren’t expecting your first time reuniting with him to go this way— with him apologizing to you. The actual words ‘I’m sorry’ just left his mouth. 

You genuinely don’t know who this is. Because it’s certainly not the Jamie you knew.

You saw flashes of this guy. Quiet moments during your short-lived relationship, typically when it was just the two of you. It’s the type of guy you always knew he could be if he tried. The type of guy you pushed him to be. 

(Your friends always taunted you about having the ever-horrendous I-can-fix-him gene, and they never quite let go of it. But it’s not like it wasn’t true.)

Those flashes are why you held out for as long as you did. If it were anyone else, any other asshole who treated you the way he did, you would have dropped them in a second. But he wasn’t like that. Not always, at least.

It was terrible to think like that. You’d been in a low spot when you’d met him and had taken even lower when he left you. You’d recovered tenfold from that and now knew your worth. 

But as he stands in front of you, apologizing, genuinely apologizing, and looking at you like that, you start to question it.

No! the logical part of your brain practically screams. Don’t you fucking dare.

You’re keen to listen to that for the time being. It hardens you. And all you can do is nod at him again. “Well, uh—” Your voice comes out hoarse. You cough awkwardly. “Yeah. You were. Terrible to me. And, uh… thank you. For saying that.”

So much for playing it cool. You want to slam your head up against the wall but hold yourself back from doing so.

He nods at you, opening his mouth to say something else before he’s interrupted by one of the baristas calling your name. His cold brew’s sitting on the counter too, something the two of you clearly missed in the middle of your conversation.

When you reach for your drink, he grabs his too. He’s still staring at you, biting the inside of his cheek like he wants to say something. When you go to move around him, he stops you.

“Look, I just—” You look up at him expectantly, and his shoulders deflate. “I know you probably want nothin' to do with me. But, I just… I want to talk to you.”

Your espresso is hot in your hands. “Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

That’s when he says your name. Your actual name. Not the nickname that everyone calls you, not a pet name that he used to use, he says your name. And it makes you stop in your tracks.

It’s so stupid. It’s so fucking dumb that your fucking name can send you back to the day you first met him and were completely taken with him. You hate it. And you hate the way it makes your walls come crumbling down.

“Please,” he begs. “Can we… Can I at least give you my number? It’s a new one, but I-I think I’ve still got yours. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But just so you can… I don’t know? Think about it?”

You wouldn’t know if he still had your number. You blocked him ages ago. But you doubt it. 

However, the more you think about it, the more you consider it. It’s the product of your resolve falling and well, everything else about him now. You think about it.

If you allowed him to give you his number, the ball would be in your court. You could do what you wanted with it. You could text him, you could tell him to fuck off, you could ignore him. It was up to you. 

And you don’t know if that’s worse or better.

You decide on better. The second you sigh, Jamie knows he’s got you. A wide grin breaks out on his face as you hand him your phone. “I’ll think about it,” you mutter. 

That’s good enough for him. He gives your phone back to you, new number inserted and new contact created. You’re glad he didn’t search for his old one. That one just says ASSHOLE in big capital letters with about a million gun emojis. 

(That was done by your previous roommates in an effort to get you to move on from him. You thought it was a bit overdramatic. You were never one for emojis.)

He’s smiling when he holds his coffee out for you. You stare at him blankly, thinking he’s attempting to cheers you. Instead, he shakes his head and says, “Take it.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“Trade with me,” he clarifies and your expression turns to one of shock. “C’mon. You said it’s yours anyway, right?” When you don’t move he rolls his eyes. “Offer’s only good for another second. Me arm’s getting tired.”

At that, you sigh rather dramatically and grumble to yourself, trying not to act pleased by the gesture. You hand him your coffee and he gives you his. “Thanks,” you say. It was kind of him. 

His grin returns and he nods at you. “Alright,” he says. After a slightly awkward beat, he steps back from you. “It was good to see you, Doc. Really.” You’re taken back by how genuine his voice sounds and say nothing in return. “I’ll talk to you later?”

He says it as a question, hopeful and well-meaning. “Yeah,” you tell him noncommittally. “Maybe.”

That too, is good enough for him. Because he sends you one more smile, then walks out of the coffee shop with your espresso in hand. 

You’re still reeling from the interaction when you glance down at his your cold brew and see Natalia’s handwriting. She’s made it just as you like it, down to the milk and everything.

But below it is a small drawing. It’s a tiny shark fin with a #9 written inside, with little lettering circling around it.

Doo-doo-do-doo-do-do-doo.

You’re fucked.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” is the question that your best friend and former roommate Leah screams at you over drinks at a busy rooftop bar. So busy, in fact, that barely anyone looks over at the two of you.

You’d made the mistake of telling Leah that not only had you run into Jamie on Wednesday, but you’d let him give you his number. 

And you’d texted him after hours of deliberation.

It was something innocent, something you’d thought way too much about, but innocent still. You weren’t sure if you were ready to actually talk to him, but there was something about texting him that wasn’t so scary. Your guard was clearly still up, evident by how dry you were in your messages, and you were keeping your distance. You never texted back too quickly, didn’t ask many questions, and often left him on read. 

(Yeah, you’d turned your read receipts on for him. What about it?)

Your first text was a simple enough question, something that you’d been genuinely wondering about since you saw him. It was open enough for a conversation but not too forward. how’d you know my coffee order?

His response came in minutes later. Is that yours? Good taste. It was shortly followed up with, That espresso you drink was fucking disgusting though.

And that was that. That was how you started texting your ex again. That’s how you reconnected yourself with Jamie Tartt. That’s how you knew it was over for you.

And that’s how you’re pretty sure you’re about to kill your best friend.

Leah’s eyes were wild, somehow angry yet still disbelieving yet intrigued. But the intrigue was very minimal. Very minimal. It was hidden well by how pissed off she was at you.

She had every right to be pissed at you. She was the one who always warned you about him. She’d straight-up nursed you back to health when you broke up. She was the one who had to hear about him 24 hours a day until you were finally over him.

Leah had had a year of peace. And now you were killing her for good.

“You’re kidding, right?” she follows up with. Her grip on your arm is tight. “Please tell me your kidding.”

“Leah…” Your voice is weak.

It tells her everything she needs to know. “Oh, my God! Oh, my. God.” She puts her face in her hands. “You’re insane. You’re fucking losing it and we need to have you checked out right now.”

“I’m completely sentient and in control of my own body.”

“Are you sure?”

You sip at your cocktail. “I reset a knee today. I’m pretty sure.”

“I think you might need to reconsider,” she says. “Because you just told me that not only are you talking to Jamie Tartt again, but you were the one who instigated it!”

You deserve this verbal beatdown and you know it. But all you can do is shrug. “Technically, he gave me his number. He’s the one who instigated it.”

“I’m gonna throw my fucking drink in your face,” Leah threatens, gripping her glass in warning. 

You roll your eyes at her. “Nothing’s gonna happen,” you say, even though you know you’re probably lying. Leah knows this too. “We’ve just been texting a little. It’s nothing serious.”

“Yeah, sure,” she deadpans. “Right. And even if I did believe you, what happens if it does? What happens if you get back in your weird, scary Jamie phase and he kills you again? I can’t deal with that.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you assure her, and this time it’s more confident. Because you know you won’t. Not this time. Not if anything happens.

You’d met Jamie when you were twenty-two. You were in your first year of your Masters program, slightly lost as in your move to London to finish your journey to become a physical therapist. Or a physio, as they called it here. Whatever. You couldn’t keep up with the names. 

You were shadowing a physio at the clinic you now worked at, assisting him as a part of your internship at one of the football tournaments the clinic worked at. It was a ton of big-wig footballers, some names you recognized, others you didn’t. But it didn’t matter. They were precious fucking cargo and you were so paranoid about screwing up that you barely registered who they were when you worked on them.

That was, until a twenty-two-year-old Jamie Tartt sprained his ankle and plopped himself down on your doctor’s bench. He looked at you, you assisted him, and you were wrapped up in what you were doing that you didn’t even notice he was flirting with you. 

You didn’t realize until he asked you out. And the rest was history, for better or for worse.

You were surprised he went for you. You knew who Jamie was, what type of girls he liked to be seen with. They were singers and models and actresses. They weren’t you. 

(Perhaps that’s one of the reasons you liked him so much. Because he chose you. You didn’t like to think about that phase of your life.) 

But after six months of seeing him, he ended things out of nowhere. Right when you’d settled on the idea that despite it all, you might be in love with him. And that was that.

You hadn’t seen him since. Not until this week.

“Not gonna happen my ass,” Leah scoffs, bringing you back into the conversation at hand.

A sigh of frustration leaves your lips. “Listen, I know it’s a bad idea;” you tell her. “I know it is. But, I don’t know. There was something different about him, Leah. He was just… like not someone I recognized.”

“Maybe because his hair is fucking long and stupid now.” She brings her glass to her lips. “His highlights look horrendous.”

“I actually like his hair like this,” you admit, earning yet another eye roll. “Listen. I’m not saying he’s changed. He probably hasn’t. But I…” You trail off with a shrug. “I don’t know. What if he has?”

Leah’s looking at you like you’re the dumbest person she’s ever met in her life. “Are you hearing yourself right now?” she asks incredulously. “Babe, he was a prick to you. Like, category-five, prestige-level twat. Like, worst boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“I know,” you repeat. “And I said nothing’s going to happen. But if it does, and it goes south, I give you full permission to say I-told-you-so for the rest of my life, alright?”

Leah bites the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. “Whatever,” she says. After a moment, she glances over at you. “I’m just looking out for you, y’know. I don’t want to see you hurt again. And I definitely don’t want him to be the reason for that hurt again.”

You grab her hand. “I know,” you say once more. “And I love you for it. But if I’m gonna be stupid, I’m fully aware of when I’m gonna do it. And it’s gonna be my own fault.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you before Leah nods. “Okay,” she finally says. “Okay. Fine. Your fucking funeral.”

“I’ll let you give the eulogy and allow you to call me a dumb bitch for ten minutes straight.”

“Sold,” Leah says, pointing at you. That slight intrigue you previously saw in her eye returns. “Okay, now that I’ve yelled at you, you need to tell me everything.”

And so you do. You tell her how he took your coffee, how you nearly threw up the second you saw him, how you played it cool until you didn’t. How he apologized to you. Joked around with you. Apologized some more. And then he gave you his coffee. 

You despise how excited you sound about it. Again, you’re trying to play it cool, but the people that know you the best can always see right through you. You’re excited about it. Excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to be excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to look down at your phone after you and Leah order another drink. Your heart stops when you see he’s texted you. 

It’s a bad idea to open the message when Leah excuses herself to go to the bathroom. What are you up to tonight? 

It’s past midnight on a Saturday and he’s texting you. It’s still preseason for him, so he might be drunk, he may not be. You’re three drinks deep and aren’t sure if you are.

It’s a bad idea to respond to him. getting drinks with a friend. You keep it dry.

It’s a bad idea to not look down at your phone until you finish the drinks you ordered. Because now, you’re definitely drunk and looking at it all with new eyes. 

Would you want to hang out tonight? No pressure.

It’s a bad idea to consider it. 

But it’s a worse idea to agree.

text me your new address. i can be there by 1:30.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re knocking on Jamie’s door, intertwining your fingers together when you realize you’re shaking.

The second you do it, you regret it. You’re no longer feeling the effects of your drinks. It wore off on the Uber ride over here. And everything seems like a terrible idea now.

God, what were you doing? He treated you like that and the second you see him again, you go running back? He was an asshole. He’d made you question everything about yourself, he’d made you cry, he’d made you experience every fucking emotion in the book and all it took is one text for you to be back on his doorstep?

Your roommate was right. This was a horrendous idea and you were an idiot.

However, none of that matters. It doesn’t matter because Jamie Tartt’s opening his door and he’s got a stupid fucking smile on his face. And the second you see it, you know there’s no turning back.

“Hey,” he says as he opens the door. “You alright, love?”

You clench your jaw at the name, at his smile, about how casual he’s being, about everything. “Hey,” you say, avoiding his eyes to look around his flat. 

It’s a complete 180 from what he had when he first joined Richmond and what he had when you knew him. It’s a bit less mojo-dojo-casa-house-looking and something more mature. While you can still tell that a twenty-something guy definitely lives here, it’s decorated well, it’s put together, and it’s clean. No beer bottle sculptures in sight. He’s even got a fucking candle burning on his counter. Who the fuck is this and what did he do with the guy you knew?

Jamie follows you as you enter, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “You find the place okay?”

His question snaps you out of your flat-induced haze. “Yeah,” you reply. You clear your throat. “This is nice.”

That same, stupid smile returns, but it looks a bit nervous. “Yeah. I told you it was a bit different, huh?” he chuckles. He walks toward his island, rounding it as he speaks. “Needed a fresh start or whatever. The old one was gettin’... old.” He watches you as you nod, continuing to look around. “You still in the same place with the same people?”

“Uh, no. Different place. No people,” you answer. You’ve stayed on your side of the counter, actively keeping your distance. “Willa moved to New York last year and Leah moved with her boyfriend. We live in the same building, though, which is nice.”

The small talk is fucking killing you. You’re not even sure if he cared to remember your previous roommates' names, so this all could be pointless. You can’t believe you’re here. You can’t believe you’re actually standing here, talking to him about the past. 

But as you finish speaking, he nods like he’s listening. Maybe he is listening. Maybe he does remember. 

“I’ll have to see that sometime,” he ends up saying, and the implication of it makes your head spin. He wants to see you again. Or he just learned small talk common courtesy. Whatever it is, it’s driving you insane. You have so many questions for him, so many things to say, and as he wipes his hands on his pants again and nods over to his kitchen, he asks, “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got—”

“Why did you invite me here, Jamie?” The question comes spilling out of you, rushed as if it were waiting on the tip of your tongue and simply couldn’t stand to stay in any longer. Jamie stops in his tracks to blink at you. The look on his face encourages you to go on. “I mean, I know I texted you first. But why… why did you text me tonight? Why’d you—” You grimace, trying to find the right words. “Why’d you give me your number?”

He’s silent for a moment. Thinking. Evaluating. But his eyes haven’t left you. “Because I wanted you here,” he finally says. You cross your arms over your chest as he takes a step toward you. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you.”

You want to say that you’ve been driven crazy all week because you feel same, but decide against it. Instead, you look away from him and scoff. “Right.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you, and your heart stops with every step he takes. “I felt like I was goin’ insane. I didn’t…” For a flash of a second, he looks shy. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. And I didn’t think you’d actually text me. I mean, I hoped you would, but…”

He’s right in front of you, but you still refuse to look at him. Your gaze has shifted to the floor. “I shouldn’t have,” you mutter.

The asshole has the nerve to chuckle, but it’s nervous. Your stomach churns. You’re not sure if you’ve ever heard him nervous. “No, you probably shouldn’t have,” he agrees. “I don’t deserve it.” He pauses and your throat starts to tighten. “I didn’t deserve you.”

That makes you look at him. Either he’s actually apologetic about everything, or he’s gotten really good at knowing everything you want to hear. “No. You didn’t.”

His fingers tentatively brush your arm and you allow him to take your hand. “I know,” he says. “I was a fucking prick. I get that now. I should never have… done that shit to ya.” You’re close enough to him now that if you moved an inch, his forehead would be up against yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. The action makes your throat tighten. “And I can’t fix it. But I…” He trails off again and looks you dead in the eye once he has the words. “I want to make it up to you.”

Your resolve is getting weaker and you hate yourself for it. You lean back against the counter, like that will put space between you two. “Jamie…”

“Please,” he whispers. His forehead finally meets yours. You can feel his breath on your lips. You don’t pull away. “Let me make it up to you.”

The last front you have standing weakly presents itself. “If you think,” you begin, breath shuddering as his hand meets your neck, “that one 2 AM hookup is going to make up for what you did, I—”

“I know it won’t,” he says, and it sounds like he does know. “But I want it to be a start.” The fingers on your neck are now tracing your jaw. And they tighten when he says, “Let me show you just how sorry I am, yeah? Let me make it fucking good for you.”

Jesus fucking Christ. That last front dissolves the second he says that, and your logic flips on itself. You came over here for a reason. You knew what this was. At least you got an overdue apology. Whether or not he meant it, is still up in the air, but if he’s promising things like that, then you might as well get something out of it.

You struggle to get a word out, so you nod against his hand. “O-Okay,” you finally stammer out. The way he’s looking at you gives you enough confidence to say, “Fine. Make it up to me.”

Jamie’s lips curl into a smirk and say, “As you wish,” before they’re on yours.

He’s softer than you remember. His lips aren’t chapped, he isn’t as aggressive with it, and he isn’t as rushed. Everything about him feels more mature and you struggle to understand how fast he could have changed in four years. But you’re not complaining. Not when he’s kissing you like this, with more practice and passion than you can ever recall.

His hand unlocks from yours to slide it up your sweatshirt, and it’s surprisingly warm against your back. Still, you shiver from the contact and you can feel him smirk once more against your lips. 

The action alone prompts you to fork a hand in his hair and tug at it slightly, reveling in the soft sound that escapes him. Everything about him comes back to you at once, and you’ve never been happier to know that the same things still get him. If he wants to play it like that, you can keep up.

His hands drop to grab your thighs and lift you onto the counter, breaking the kiss momentarily. Your chest is heaving up and down, lips swollen and wet. Jamie appears to be in the same boat. “Fuck,” he whispers, sounding even more out of breath than you. He dips his head to press a kiss to your neck, nose rubbing against it as he makes his way down. “You look fucking gorgeous, by the way. Meant to tell you that at the shop.”

You’re too caught up in it all to play it cool, especially as he works at that one spot on your neck. “You look— fuck, you look good too. The long hair suits you.”

You feel him grin against your neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree breathily. “Looked like a prick with the old cut.”

You feel his teeth dig into your skin at that one, and you hiss. “You liked that prick,” he reminds you.

You were in love with that prick, but you ignore that thought. “I liked a lot of things about him,” you respond. While it’s honest, the accidental double meaning of it isn’t lost on you.

It’s certainly not lost on Jamie. “Yeah?” he asks again. He lifts his head to look at you, hand creeping up your leg. “What’d you like?” You grip his arm as it rises beneath your sweatshirt once more. “C’mon love. Tell me what you want.”

You hate the way your breath hitches the second his fingers meet your back. You know what you want. You want to see what he’s learned since you last had him. What he’s like four years later. What’s changed, what’s stayed the same. But you’re too embarrassed and much too proud to ask.

Instead, you decide to say, much too shyly for your liking, “You know what I want.”

He hums in agreement, other hand creeping dangerously close to the inside of your thigh. “I do, don’t I?” he murmurs. “Bet I know everything ya want. But I wanna hear you say it.”

“Oh my, God,” you say under your breath, frustration creeping into your voice. The asshole fucking laughs at you. “I want you to make good on your promise. This seems far from it.”

“Right, right, I’m sorry,” he tells you. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Just making sure we’re still, y’know. On the same page.” He glances at you. “Right?”

You blink at him. You’re not sure you could have been clearer about what page you’re on. But that’s not what surprises you. What surprises you is the seriousness in his eyes. How he’s searching for assurance in yours. And you know that if, for whatever godly reason, you wanted to stop, he’d pull away immediately, despite how worked up he clearly is. 

It's the bare fucking minimum, but it's more than you’re used to getting.

So, you nod. “Yeah,” you say. “Definitely on the same page.” 

The grin he breaks out to is nothing short of breathtaking. “Good.”

“But—” you suddenly say, stopping him from leaning in once more. He freezes beneath your touch, brows furrowing. “This is… This is a one-time thing. You’re…” You trail off to find the word. “You’re apologizing to me. That’s all this is.”

His smile falters, dropping momentarily before returning with a bit less radiance. It’s his turn to nod. “Okay,” he says, fingers now toying with the edge of your sweatshirt. “Gotta make it count, then.”

And with that, Jamie presses his lips back to yours, grabbing you securely and pulling you off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist, grabbing the sides of his face, like that’ll stable you against him. 

This time, it’s more desperate. It’s more tongues and teeth, more force and intention behind each movement. He’s setting the pace, but you’re keeping up tenfold. While it’d been four years, you’re not sure if he’d ever kissed you like this. He’s passionate instead of aggressive. While he knows what he wants, he’s definitely not just going to take it. He may be leading but he’s listening to you. And that stirs something inside you that you haven’t felt in a long time.

That much is clear, because you unconsciously let out a quiet sound against his lips. You can feel him smiling once more as he walks you slowly to wherever the hell his bedroom is. You’re caught up in him. And by the way he’s gripping you, you can tell he’s just as caught up in you.

So much so, that he completely loses track of where he’s going and accidentally slams you into his doorframe. You yelp, more because of shock than pain, and pull away to glare at him.

Jamie’s already apologizing. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “Still gettin’ used to this place.”

“Well, figure out how to navigate better,” you respond, verging on a pout as you rub the back of your head.

“I’m sorry!” he repeats. He’s still got you against the doorframe. “It’s hard to see with your big head in me face. And I can’t kiss ya with, like, my eyes open. It’d be freaky.”

“I’ll give you a pass for that one,” you reply dryly. “Be weird instead of giving me a concussion.”

He’s walking you toward the bed when he mutters, “I’ll give you something, alright.”

Your back meets the mattress and you try to ignore the way he held his hand behind your head when he laid you down. You have under a second to adjust before he’s on top of you. The desperation returns and it almost takes your breath away.

He’s essentially straddling you, tugging at the waist of your leggings before he leaves one last kiss on your lips. He finally gets to pull your sweatshirt off, something he’d clearly been dying to rid you of since he first kissed you. You lift your arms up to help him, finding that you quickly start to do the same to him. You hear him chuckle as you attempt to get it up his back.

“I got it, love, hold on,” he says softly, tossing your hoodie to the side to take off his own. Your eyes immediately go to his chest and stomach and you refrain from reaching out to touch him. When you look up at him, you expect him to be smirking. However, he’s doing the exact opposite.

Jamie’s looking down at you like he can’t fucking believe you’re real. It’s jarring, seeing him like this, but you figure he’s in the same headspace as you and is still struggling to process that this is happening. It doesn’t matter, because before you can question it, he’s moving to press a kiss to your collarbone.

Your hand falls into his hair as he works his way down, mouthing the area of your chest. He pauses before he gets to the bra you’re wearing. His eyes flick up to yours. “Can I—”

You’re nodding before he can even get the words out, shifting to make it easier for him. He discards it to the floor with the rest. When he looks back at you, he releases a shaky breath and just stares.

He stares so intently that you begin to get self-conscious. “What?” you ask.

The question takes Jamie out of his trance. He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I just— I… Fuck. I forgot how beautiful you were.”

That spreads a warmth through you, one that pulls at your core. As you feel your face heat, you realize you have nothing to say to that. Luckily, he’s already moving on.

Jamie’s different. Really different. And you don’t realize how different he is until you start looking at him like you are right now. You were trying to convince yourself when you told Leah that he’d changed, you’ll admit that. But right now, you think you may have been telling the truth.

He grabs the waist of your leggings once more, lifting your legs to pull them off. You can’t help the laugh that leaves your lips as he struggles to do so. He shakes his head with a soft smile. “Missed that.”

“What?” you ask again.

“Your laugh,” he replies. “Missed that more than you know.”

The sweet words hit you like a bullet. The vulnerability in his voice is what gets you. Goddammit, when did he get so fucking nice? It drives you insane. But it also makes you quietly admit, “I think I’ve got an idea.”

With your leggings now gone, Jamie’s smile turns fonder. Gentler. He presses a kiss to your leg but says nothing in response. He simply places your legs down, eyes flicking down. He lifts his hand to trace down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your panties. The feeling makes you flinch.

He hooks a finger in the band, and your hips buck up to encourage him. His other hand spreads across your hip in a poor effort to keep you still. “Easy,” he murmurs. 

You huff out a breath. “You can—” Your breath hitches as two of his fingers push into your underwear. “Fuck, you can take them off.”

His lips quirk up. “Well, thank you for the permission,” he says. “But not yet. I wanna take it slow with ya.”

Your mouth parts. “Why?”

“Because it’s been years since I’ve seen you,” he answers, moving up to kiss you softly. He speaks against your lips as he says, “And I’ve apparently only got one shot to do this right. So I’m gonna make this last.”

You roll your eyes at his terribly disguised jab. “You’re a dick,” you mutter against him.

“And you’re—” He cuts himself off and a gasp escapes your lips as he cups your core and rubs his palm against it. “Fuck, love. You’re really fucking wet.” He’s positioned on you so that you can feel him getting harder against you thigh. “This all for me, yeah?”

His voice is cocky, while still sounding awestruck. The remaining dignity you have left makes you roll your eyes, albeit a bit embarrassed. “It’s for whoever doesn’t take their fucking time to give me what I want,” you bite.

Jamie draws back from you with a full smirk on his face. “That so?” he asks. The hand against you starts creeping up to the band of your panties. “And what is it that you want? You still haven’t told me.”

You scoff. “I told you.”

He pulls your underwear down your legs and the air around you suddenly makes you realize just how exposed you are. You told yourself you’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this again. But here you were.

His fingers brush against the inside of your thigh, and you shiver once more. “No,” he tells you gently. “You didn’t. You just said you wanted me to keep my promise. You didn’t tell me what you wanted.”

He’s moving closer and closer to the place you want him and you don’t know if you can take it anymore. You shift uncomfortably, as if that will cease the ache. But you know only one thing will.

So, you give him the answer he’s been waiting for this entire time. “You.” His gaze meets yours. “I want you, Jamie. Please.”

That breathtaking grin returns. “Just because you asked so nicely.”

And then he puts his mouth on you without warning.

You spasm at the contact, crying out as he uses both arms to hold you still. The second you calm down, one hand leaves your thigh and you feel him work two fingers into you. Fuck. He didn’t know that before.

And it’s not like he was ever bad in bed when you two were together. You’re not sure you would have stayed with him if that were the case. It’s just… he’s better now. He’s hitting everything nearly perfectly, not stumbling like he used to. He’s more confident. More assured. He knows what he’s doing.

And it’s fucking hot.

The sounds that fill his room are downright obscene. He’s gripping one side of you to keep you in place, splitting you open on his knuckles with the other. His mouth zeroes in on your clit, alternating between licking and sucking in a way that honestly has you close already.

“F-fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, Jamie. Don’t st— shit. Don’t stop. Please.”

Of course, the fucking shit he is, stops. He grins up at you, but continues to slowly pump his fingers in and out. “You sound so fucking pretty begging like that,” he tells you. He’s just as out of breath as you are. He feels you clench around his fingers at the praise and it only eggs him on further. “Look so pretty too. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Jamie,” you whine again. He’s going too slow. Teasing. It’s not fucking fair. He’s supposed to be the one apologizing to you. “I need— Ngh. I need—”

“What do you need?” he asks. “Tell me.”

You think you’d kill him if you weren’t completely incapacitated. “More,” you manage to get out, wincing as he continues at his slow pace. You’re close. Embarrassingly close. “Just fucking more. Please. I’m—” You interrupt yourself with a moan as he shoves his fingers deeper into you.

“I know,” he nearly coos. “I’ve got you.”

And got you he does. Because not only does he pick up the pace, he stretches you with a third finger. The sting of it is momentary, and it subsides as soon as he bends down and swipes your clit with his tongue.

Your back arches. “Jesus fucking— Jamie. Oh, my God.”

He’s good. Of course, he’s fucking good. He’s Jamie Tartt. You’re not sure he’s ever been bad at anything physical in his life. Emotionally was another story. But that story didn’t matter right now. Not when he’s got you like this, and you’re teetering over the edge.

He pulls away from you, breath tickling your core as he speaks. “C’mon,” he chides. “I can feel it. You’re right there, aren’t you, love?” He takes your breathy silence as confirmation and nods to himself. “Yeah. You just need—”

He removes one finger and crooks the rest a certain way, deeper than before. Your heart may stop beating. He’s done something he did to you time and time again, something that he was actually really fucking good at, something he knew you liked years ago. When he looks up at you, he searches your eyes. And by the way they roll back, he knows he’s struck gold.

The smirk returns and he continues to work his fingers into you, smirk growing each time he hears you say his name. “Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s it. That’s still it.”

You could finish at any moment. The telltale heat is rising in your stomach, and you’re just waiting for the cord to snap. And then, as if your muscle memory takes over, you reach out for his arm.

But instead of letting you do it like before, he does something completely different. He intertwines his free hand with the back of yours and guides it to your stomach. And then he presses on your hand.

The pressure builds. You’re barely able to make any noise. And then—

“C’mon,” Jamie repeats. “Come for me, angel. I wanna see it.”

The cord snaps, and you do as you’re told. You come. Hard.

Jamie talks you through it, fingers still moving to coax your climax out of you. You’re sure you look pathetic, crying out and thrashing around in his bed, but you don’t care. You can barely fucking see right now.

It’s been a while for you. Or at least been a while since you’ve had anything that good. And it completely strips away any sort of attitude or frustration you had before.

When you finally come back down, you laugh softly, shaking your head and throwing your arm over your face. “Fuck,” you say through a chuckle.

You feel him shift, moving up the bed to hover over you once more. When he removes your arm from your eyes, you see that he’s smiling. “Nobody’s ever laughed after I’ve done that,” he tells you, a faux pout pulling at his lips. He bends down to press them to yours and you can taste yourself. “It better be a good fuckin’ sign.”

You laugh again, reaching up to cup his cheek and pull him into another kiss. “Very good sign,” you assure him. It’s muffled against him, but you think he gets the point. 

It’s then that you catch him by surprise and flip the two of you over, straddling him in a way that makes him release a breathy sound that you’d missed dearly. But, something feels off.

Your glance down at him, expecting to feel or see fabric once you reach his leg. But there’s not much. Only what feels like boxer shorts. It catches you off guard. When did he take off his—

It doesn’t matter. It’s easier for you now. Especially as your fingers move across his abdomen, biting back a grin at the way he shudders. He looks up at you from his pillow.

“What are you doing?” he asks leadingly.

You shrug innocently, fingers toying with the band hanging low on his hips. “Returning the favor,” you reply. 

Jamie makes a noise of disapproval, placing a hand on your thigh like that’ll stop you. “I’m supposed to be the one making it up to you,” he states, but his voice gets less firm as you cup him through the fabric. “Fuck. Y-You don’t owe me anythin’. No favors.”

You shake your head, pulling at his boxers so that he springs free from inside. Your eyes travel back to his as you reach out and gently grab his cock, staring down at him with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure?”

He looks pained. You don’t know why. You’re offering a way to take him out of his misery. But still, he shakes his head and moves his arm from your leg to your back. 

He takes his turn to flip you over next. He swears under his breath as he does so, shaking his head when you land on your back.

“I told you,” he says, taking his boxers all the way off now. “It’s about you. Not me.” He shakes his head again, but this time it’s a bit more frustrated. When he speaks, it’s mostly to himself. “Can’t believe I just fuckin’ said no to that.”

A snort escapes you. “You’re a changed man, Jamie Tartt,” you joke.

He shrugs before placing his arms on either side of you. His voice teeters on teasing and earnest. “I’ve been trying to tell ya that.”

You’re not sure if it’s him, or the situation, or the sex, but you think you believe him. It makes your chest heavy. But you can’t admit that. You won’t let yourself. So, you keep that feeling tucked away, way in the back of your mind for safekeeping. You know it’s better like that. For your emotional sake, at least.

You allow yourself to prop yourself up on your elbow and kiss him instead of responding to that, bringing him in closer. You can feel the length of him press against your stomach, and his groan vibrates against your lips. 

He pulls away, grinding into you. The heat of your body is making him go wild. “Can I—”

You know what he wants. And you want it too. “Please,” you say. 

He nods, moving to angle himself against you. You glance down to watch him, heat flooding your face as he strokes himself before glancing up at you. You nod in return, giving him the confirmation he needs. Jamie grins.

He slides in you slowly. The stretch is mild but grows as he hovers over you once more. It’s easy to adjust, having been warmed up moments before. But for Jamie, it’s not as easy.

He bottoms out almost immediately, tensing over you. His head bows, chin falling to his chest. “Fuck,” he curses. It’s quiet but straight-up sinful. “God, fucking— you’re so—” You grip onto his bicep as he steadies himself. “I’m sorry. It’s just— i-it’s been a minute. And you’re f-fucking tight. Jesus.”

You don’t mind. He feels good like this, despite the fact he’s not moving. Your hand travels from his arm to his hair, tucking a piece of it behind his ear before settling on his jaw. “It’s alright,” you tell him. “We’ve got time.”

Jamie’s eyes snap open at that, but he’s not looking at you like you thought he would. You were expecting a cheeky sort of smile, a smirk, something in that realm. But he’s not. He’s looking at you like…

It’s something you can’t define. Something you’ve never seen before. It churns your stomach yet makes your heart race. Neither of you says a word.

He just dips down to kiss you again and slowly begins to move inside you. Your lips part in a gasp, and he slides his tongue in your mouth. Your back arches into him.

Before you know it, he's breaking from you and is breathing heavy against your neck. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re just— fuck. You…” He trails off, mouth hovering over your collarbone. “You drive me f-fucking mad. God, everything about you. Y-you don’t even know, do you?”

The pace picks up. He’s thrusting into you harder now and your nails dig into his back. You hear him hiss at the contact, but neither of you seem to care. “Fuck.” It’s all you can say. “Fuck, Jamie.”

He’s clearly not done talking. “How’d I-I fuck this up? Huh?” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. His mouth is on your chest now and the feeling runs through you like fire. “Fucking idiot. Didn’t know what I had. Can’t believe I let you go.”

You clench around him and it throws him off kilter. You watch his jaw clench, hand beside you gripping the pillow you’re on. “You w-were an idiot.” Your agreement is much less effective when it’s closed out by a high-pitched moan.

“I know. Fuck, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. Deserved better.” He continues to slam into you. “I wanna gi—” A strangled sound erupts from his lips. “Give you better. You’re so—” When he shakes his head, he looks wrecked. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Something about that sends a shock to your system. It makes you cry out and you can feel it. Your legs tremble around him. You’re close again. You’re really fucking close. 

He kisses you once more, deeper than before. It’s more frantic. Everything about him is more erratic. You can tell he’s getting there too. “Couldn’t stop,” he manages to get out, hot against your lips. “Couldn’t s-stop thinking about you. I missed you.” 

You clench around him again, the admission inching you closer. “Shit,” you say. “Fuck, Jamie, keep going.”

And keep going he does. His hand moves down your stomach, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into it and that sends you into a fucking tailspin. He swallows the sound you make. 

“Missed you,” he says again, but it’s more helpless. Jamie fucking whimpers. “God, I f-fucking missed you, angel. Missed you so fucking much, I—”

You don’t hear the rest of what he says because you come the second he makes that sound. It’s white-hot. Blinding. Your legs twitch around him and you claw at him as he continues to rub your clit. You’re loud, but you don’t give a shit. It seems to spur him on.

He’s not far behind you. He spills into you with a groan, stomach flexing as he heaves over you, twitching inside of you. You’re still recovering from your own high as you open your eyes to watch him. You catch his expression for a moment before he’s collapsing into you.

You release a soft ‘oof’ at the sudden weight of him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and neither do you. You just breathe together. But after a moment you allow yourself to put a hand in his hair.

“You’re fucking heavy,” you tell him, but there’s not much bite in it.

You feel him chuckle. “Give me second,” he says. “Not as fuckin’ agile as I used to be. Took a lot out of me, alright?”

You roll your eyes but continue to run your fingers through his hair. “You’re twenty-six and like, the face of the AFC,” you tell him. “Richmond might have to shorten your contract if you’re dying after that.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Take that up with me Chairwoman then.”

You can’t help but laugh as you push him off of you, wincing as you feel him slip out. He lands with the same noise you did. “If she heard you complaining like that, she’d be on my side.”

Jamie grins at you, joining in on your laughter. He shifts toward you, grabbing your hand to play with your fingers. “You’re probably right. Shouldn’t be complainin’,” he says. He lifts your hand to his lips. “Not when you’re here.”

They’re sweet words. The casualty of them makes your heart swell. But that anxiety about him returns. One time thing, you tell yourself. Apology. One time. That’s all.

You pull your hand back softly and he glances over at you. There’s a hint of worry in his eyes, like that one movement set off alarm bells in his head. You give him an uneasy smile.

Before you can move to get up or say anything or do something, he’s talking. And you have to refrain from wincing. 

“I know…” He looks away from you. Shy. “I know you said one time,” he says, as if he can read your fucking mind. “And that’s… That’s okay. I get that, yeah? But I—” Jamie wipes a hand down his face, staring at the ceiling. “I meant what I said. I missed ya. Really.”

You missed him too. But your walls have been rising back up since he started talking again. “I don’t know what you want me to do with that,” you tell him, only partially lying.

You feel like an asshole when he winces. Maybe you were being an asshole. Maybe it was finally your turn to do so. 

“Just…” He finally looks at you. “If you ever… don’t want this to be just a one-time thing.” He waves it off in an attempt to look casual. You know he’s anything but. “You’ve got my number. Or whatever.”

The timidness in his voice makes your resolve soften. Even if you don’t see him again, you suppose you can let him down easy. He’s been kind enough tonight to deserve that. You nod at him as you sit up. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll let you know.”

It’s only slightly awkward as you get out of his bed and search for your clothes. He asks if he can call you an Uber home and you reject it, letting him know that you’ve got one on the way.

You can feel his eyes on you as you dress, ignoring the way they burn into you. You can tell he’s searching for something to say, or something to talk to you about but doesn’t know what.

You’re half-dressed before he can shoot himself in the foot and say something stupid. “Hey,” he finally says. You glance over your shoulder at him after you slip your sweatshirt on. “I’m really glad you texted me.”

The nice streak you’re riding on continues and you offer a small but genuine smile in return. “Me too,” you admit, ignoring the way that his own soft smile pulls at your heartstrings. 

Before you leave his room, you offer one more admission. You stop in the doorframe he hit you against, lips curling further upward. “It was really good to see you, Jamie.”

He props himself up on his elbow, smile growing. “Good,” he says, nodding. Then, like a prick, he winks at you. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

You physically cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes and you hear him laugh to himself as you walkdown his hall. “Goodbye, asshole.”

He shouts a tired-sounding ‘bye!’ when you slip your shoes on, shaking your head as you look around his apartment once more. The candle on his counter is still burning, smelling of amber moss and palo santo.

You blow it out before you leave, knowing he’ll forget.

And as you do so, you feel yourself regress. Or grow. You’re not quite sure which one.

But it makes you curse under your breath and leave his flat immediately.

There is one more universal truth you forgot to mention. 

And that’s that the second you think you’re over Jamie Tartt, he comes back into your life and flips everything on its head. And it’s the only truth that’s been confirmed to you all week.

Because the second you arrive home and see that you have a text waiting for you, your heart picks up. You hate the way you get excited to see it.

I had a really good time tonight.

And the second he comes back into your life, you’re reminded that you’re not over him. Not even in the slightest. And it’s fucking debilitating. 

me too. 

And you know your friends are going to kill you the second you follow up with.

i’m free friday if you want to grab a drink.