#the way jamie catches himself as he says ‘with’ and changes it to ‘to’

[faramirsonofgondor]

Jamie stuttering as he gets through his explanation of what happened in Amsterdam. Jamie misunderstanding Roy’s statement of the event being traumatic. Jamie not knowing because he doesn’t remember. Roy looking over worriedly at Jamie after he says so. This whole fucking scene.

[starrystevie]

18+ | explicit sex & smoking | read here on ao3

it's 1996 when steve's world gets turned upside down again.

or, well, technically it's a few minutes into '97 when everything changes. he's at a new years party that his ex timothy is hosting and everyone is still hooting and hollering as they ring it in, pressing sloppy kisses to cheeks and lips with arms hooked around necks.

steve doesn't get kissed. not because people aren't eyeing him with a smirk and mischief and open arms of their own. no, he doesn't let himself get kissed because something feels... off about the night. the energy is weird, buzzing through his skin like electricity, keeping him on edge in a way he hasn't been since he left hawkins for boston in the fist place.

it isn't long until he figures out why.

timmy is walking up to him with his hands on some guy's shoulders, pushing him backwards with a wide smile like he's trying to convince him of something. the guy is about his height, short cropped dark hair and a leather jacket, the sight of his back alone getting steve excited. timmy always did know his type to a t.

"hey!" timmy yells over the music as he catches steve's eye. "got someone for you to meet."

once the guy turns around, the smiles on both steve and the mystery guy's faces fall before their minds catch up with them and plaster them back together. even with the short cropped hair, even with the piercing in his eyebrow, even with the stubble spreading over his defined jaw, steve would know that face, that heartbeat, anywhere.

"steve, i wanted to introduce you to someone. jamie, this is steve, you know... the guy i was telling you about?"

timmy's trying to be helpful, not even attempting to be subtle as he pushes the two closer together with a wide grin. steve's going on autopilot, reaching out a hand to grab the one outstretched towards him, but his brain is going a million miles a minute.

"nice to meet you, steve," eddie, or... jamie, says, palm pressed tightly against his own.

steve can't say anything, focusing too much on the warmth on his palm and the way his deep voice shakes through him like thunder and the way he feels like he's 19 again with a stuttering heart.

"what are-" he starts.

eddie shakes his head and tugs on steve's hand. "not here. come on."

they end up in a secluded corner, close enough that steve can smell smoke and leather polish and the sharp bite of his cologne. close enough that he can see the lines starting to appear on the corners of eddie's eyes, the stray grey hairs popping up in his beard, the questions swirling behind his eyes.

"eddie."

"jamie," is all he says back, not even bothering to look away from steve's eyes. "it's jamie now."

they both sigh like they don't know where to start because they don't. steve grapples with all the questions in his mind before settling on one. the one that tore through him late at night. the one that stayed on the tip of his tongue anytime he heard a van backfire or metallica.

"where did you go?" he knows it sounds like an accusation because it is. he doesn't let himself feel bad when eddie (jamie) flinches.

"feds," he replies easily, sneaking a cigarette out of his pocket and putting it between his lips. he tilts his head back to light it away from steve's face, blowing smoke up towards the ceiling. "once i got better, they scooped me up and brought me to boston. new name, new hairstyle, new life. at least they let me choose my name so i didn't get stuck with some thing awful."

steve snorts. "so you ended up with 'jamie' how?"

"middle name's james. it just made sense." he says it with a shrug and puffs at his cigarette again.

they look at each other for a moment. steve watches his tongue flit out of his mouth to wet his lips, watches the overhead lights glint off the metal of a surprise tongue piercing, watches his throat swallow around nothing but spit.

he can see, feel, eddie doing the same. he hams it up, pulls his lip between his teeth and makes it a show, looks back up at eddie from under his lashes. takes in a deep breath when eddie inches closer to him until their hips are bumping and steve plucks the cigarette out of his lips for a puff of his own.

he's 19 again, in love or like or lust with a boy in a leather jacket that has the world against him. he's 19 again, working a hand over himself to thoughts of his crush who up and vanished without so much as a goodbye. he's 19 again, crying after he comes, wishing he could go back in time before he met curly hair and a battle vest.

"so how do you know tim?" eddie whispers like he has to be quiet even though the part is loud and no one could hear them if they tried.

"how do you know him?" steve asks back, blowing out smoke and putting the cigarette back between eddie's barely spread lips.

his eyes flick down to look at steve's still pursed lips from when he angled the smoke over his shoulder. "we used to fuck, once upon a time when i first got to boston."

steve hums like it's the answer he expected and maybe it is. "same here. dated for about a year."

eddies eyes grow wide and his hip bumps into steve's like it's a question in and of itself and maybe it is. "didn't know you swing that way, harrington."

"well, you don't really know anything about me then, do you? didn't back then either, munson."

his eyes goes even wider, something like fear and shame and comfort and hope swimming in them. "leonard. it's leonard now."

steve hums again, says 'jamie leonard' like he's feeling it out on his tongue. tasting it between his teeth. teaching his mouth how to form the words instead of what he really wants to say like 'eddie' or 'munson' or 'i'm still somehow in love with you no matter your name'.

"jamie leonard," he says again, breath hitting eddie's lips. he shivers when he sees his lips part a bit more like he wants to swallow the sound and air that steve gives him. "we have a lot to catch up on, don't we?"

steve's apartment isn't all that big, isn't exactly small either but it has everything he could possibly need. he has a living room that looks out over the harbor and a kitchen with all new appliances and eddie munson naked in his bedroom. you know, the essentials.

their clothes are all over the floor, eddie's motorcycle helmet flung somewhere in the vague direction of the armchair in the corner but the smack it makes when it hits the wall makes steve think there's probably a hole in the drywall.

but eddie's sucking on his cock, hands wrapped around his thighs as he takes him even deeper, eyes flicking up to meet steve's, beard scratchy as it rubs against his sensitive skin. he's never been blown by someone with a tongue piercing but he doesn't think he can ever go back now.

the last thing on his mind is wondering if there's a hole in the goddamn wall.

"oh fuck, yeah there you go. feels so goddamn good," steve breathes out as he feels the back of eddie's throat on his cockhead. he tangles a hand as best he can in his short dark hair to try and coax him even deeper. eddie hums at either the praise or the tug on his hair or the way it feels as he works his tongue over steve's cock and it makes him jolt unexpectedly.

if he could go back in time and tell his 19 year old self that eddie was alive, that he was okay and breathing and learning how to suck cock like a goddamn professional, he'd do it in a heartbeat. save himself a few years of pining and fly straight out to boston to see it for himself. he's sure robin would have preferred to not have to listen to his whining everyday about brown eyes and dark curls.

eddie brings a hand to cup his balls, finger teasingly pressing into steve's taint, bobbing his head eagerly like he wants him to come in his mouth, but steve has other plans. he tugs eddie off of his cock quickly, lines of thick spit falling between them and sticking to his chin before crowding him up against the pillows.

steve kisses like he's dying and eddie is survival. he kisses him like he is drowning and eddie is the shore that he's clawing his way towards. he kisses him like 19 year old steve could only dream about.

soon enough, steve's sliding into him with a groan that he lets eddie swallow from him. the headboard knocks heavily into the wall a few times making even more possible holes, but all steve can focus on is the heat around him, the way eddie's whines bounce off the walls of his too empty bedroom and cover him like a blanket.

he likes fucking this way. he likes being able to watch as someone's face contorts into pleasure, like to see eyes rolling back and mouths dropping open and sweat beading around their hairline. likes seeing eddie fall apart.

"steve, oh my god," eddie's voice is still deeper than he's used to as he moans so he angles his hips up more to hear it again, the low timbre snaking through his veins and leaving fire in its wake. "don't stop."

"i won't," he groans into eddie's open mouth. "wanted this for so long, for fucking 11 years, not giving you up yet."

it's a bit more open than steve normally is when he first fucks someone but this isn't just someone. this isn't fucking a stranger he picked up in a bar that had almost the right shade of brown eyes and patches on his jacket that are almost the right shape. this is eddie. his eddie. or well... jamie.

"fuck, i'm gonna date you so fucking hard, harrington. yeah, right there keep going, shit-"

he's babbling as steve works his hips faster, tangling their free hands together to press above their heads on a pillow, and it's everything steve could have asked for. hearing his name fall from the lips he's dreamed about for years, sharing the same air as they breath into one another.

he thought he was over it, thought he had moved on at least a little bit from a halfway stranger he knew in his teens, but with the way they're both looking straight into each other's eyes begging each other to see them, he thinks they might both be back in 1986.

"what do-" steve cuts himself off as he whimpers, close, so close to the finish line. "what do you want me to call you? is it jamie or-"

he's shaking his head on the pillow, leaning up to bite at steve's lips and pull it between his teeth. he looks serious and certain when he says, "no, that name's not for you, it's... i need-"

steve brings his hand down to work over his cock and revel in the way his eyes roll back until he can only see white. he hits something that makes his eyes fly back open and he gets to see his favorite shade of brown again.

"eddie," he whispers. leaning down quickly, steve presses a kiss to his ear before whispering his favorite name there too. "eddie, baby, come on. let me... come on, eddie."

it feels silly to be chanting a name of a ghost as intensely as he is. but he can see it crawl over eddie like it's bringing him back to life. like he isn't bones on the ground in an alternate dimension. like he isn't a plain headstone in a graveyard next to a forgotten trailer park. like he isn't playing pretend with a fake name and a fake life.

steve says eddie and it brings him home.

afterwards, they lay together in steve's probably too soft bed, tears drying on both of their cheeks as they catch up. as they tell each other secrets that their younger selves could never dare. as the piece together the lives they have and the lives they want to have and slot each other into the mix.

steve has a hand in eddie's hair, eddie has one trailing over steve's arm that's slung over his chest. he's always been a fan of cuddling after sex.

"y'know," eddie mutters, "tim's been trying to get me to meet his hot teacher friend for months now."

steve hums, presses a kiss to his temple. "and he's been trying to get me to meet his hot motorcycle tech for months, too."

there are a few holes in the walls from the headboard and eddie's helmet, but steve thinks that they can patch those up, too.

he's still jamie leonard to the outside world. he's still a guy who doesn't have much family other than a mysterious uncle in indiana and doesn't have many friends other than ex boyfriends. he still introduces himself with a handshake and says a fake name like it's real.

but when he gets home, when he crawls onto a couch that overlooks the harbor and has arms wrapped around him, he gets to be eddie munson once more. and with the ghost of a man in his arms, steve harrington feels more like himself than he ever thought he would.

[inkdrinkerworld]

hurt/comfort with touchy!bestfriend!james when reader trips and gets mildly injured, and it hurts but reader won’t admit it, he helps patch reader up and kisses it better 🤕

You come into your apartment cursing- which is a little unusual because you normally are listening to your music and singing along.

The change in routine catches James’ attention, who’s in the kitchen fixing himself a protein shake.

You’re a little oblivious to him u Tim he’s standing in front of you sipping in his protein shake with his eyebrows downcast in concern.

“What’s up your ass, angel?” Then he zeros in on your cut up elbows and sets his shake down on the key bowl.

“James don’t leave your cup there,” you start saying between blowing away the debris from around your daw wound.

“I’ll pick it up later, what happened to your elbows?”

His big hands are gentle as he turns your arm this way and that, taking in the depth of the cuts.

“Tripped on a huge rock near the walkway.” You say easily, “It’s no big deal Jamie.”

They’re actually really stinging, but you don’t tell James that. He’s going to baby you far more than you deserve for the scrapes on your elbows.

James scoffs, “No big deal, you’ve ripped holes in your top and you can’t stop bleeding.” His fingers circle your wrists and tug you to the kitchen.

“Sit there,” he points to the counter just opposite the sink as he bends down to rifle through looking for the first aid kit.

“James, it’s not-“ he shakes his head, standing up with the kit. He’s like a mother hen sometimes honestly.

“I don’t care if you don’t think it’s a big deal. It’s a huge deal to me, yeah?” He says it with all the sass you suppose he’s got from spending all those years with Sirius.

It’s futile to argue your point any further, so you sit there and let him clean your scrapes and feels him sigh as he gets the blood to stop.

“Dunno how you bleed so much, darling.” He says quietly, pressing his lips to the now cleaned cuts which makes you giggle.

“Now you’re gonna have to clean them again because you’ve been drinking that peanut butter shake.”

James dabs the cuts clean again and then holds up two boxes of plasters. “Do you want the gingerbread men or the brown ones?”

You hum, “Can I have one of each?” James puts them on with far more precision than you would’ve used, and then presses another pair of kisses to each of them.

“There, the kiss should help speed the healing along.” He says seriously, but then grin on his face melts your heart.

“Thanks Jamie,” you murmur, holding your arms out for a hug. “They really hurt.”

James chuckles warmly, “I knew it!” He’s busy rubbing your back when he spots his cup on the bowl of keys and grimaces, hoping he’ll remember it before it gets too warm.

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ aftermath ] t. zegras

paring : Trevor Zegras x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) helps Trevor deal with Jamie leaving and breaking his ankle all in 24 hours

warning(s) : injury, some angst

author’s note : it’s me. hi. i’m the problem, it’s me

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She definitely believes in the snowball effect after the last 24 hours of her life. It’s one of the reasons why she’s currently on a flight in the middle of the night to Raleigh to meet her boyfriend’s hockey team at their hotel.

Both her life and Trevor’s life have changed so much in 24 hours. Trevor left with the Ducks for their road trip expecting to have a fun trip. His best friend was finally 21 and could enjoy all that Nashville had to offer.

Then Jamie got the call that no player ever really wants to get from their general manager.

Hours later, he was on a flight to Philly and leaving the Ducks and a distraught Trevor behind in Tennessee.

She should’ve gotten on a plane then and there. Instead, she tempted fate.

The next day was Trevor’s 200th career NHL game, and he had to play it without his best friend on the ice with him. (Y/N) happily watched from their apartment in Anaheim.

Until Trevor went down along the boards after 3 shifts and two minutes total on the ice. She was on her feet as she watched her boyfriend get helped down the tunnel. He wasn’t putting any pressure on his left leg as the trainers helped him.

She blew up his phone with texts and calls until one in the morning California time. He never replied. Then she texted Mason and asked where the Ducks were staying in Raleigh. She booked a flight and asked Mason to get Trevor’s room number when they got there.

Luckily there was a nonstop flight to Raleigh that left from LAX at three that she just barely made. She packed a duffel bag and ran out the door to catch the flight.

After nearly five hours in the air and multiple timezone changes, (Y/N) lands in North Carolina. She left at three in the morning and landed at eleven in the morning. Mason’s text with Trevor’s room number and a he’s cranky comes through as she grabs her duffel from baggage claim.

Honestly, she should’ve gotten on a flight as soon as Trevor told her that Jamie got traded. This is what happens when you tempt fate.

She orders an Uber from the airport to the hotel where Trevor is staying with the Ducks.

Why he traveled with them after getting hurt is beyond her. Maybe it isn’t a long term injury and it’s just a sprain.

Either way, she’s about to find out.

After a ten minute debate with herself, she lightly knocks on Trevor’s door.

It’s a second before the door opens. As soon as it swings open though, her heart breaks at the sight behind it.

Trevor stands on crutches with his ankle wrapped. His eyes are red and puffy and it looks like he hasn’t slept a wink in two days. Honestly, he probably hasn’t.

"Trev," she pouts.

He shakes his head and quickly spins to walk back into the room. She follows him and lets the door shut behind her. "I don't want you here, (Y/N)," he tells her. The voice crack tells her all she needs to know. He does actually need her here.

"I don't care," she replies. "I'm here anyway." Trevor leans the crutches against the middle table and sits on the bed. "You haven't exactly had the best few days so I came to make sure you're okay."

"I'm not fucking okay!" Trevor shouts at her before rubbing his face and running his fingers through his hair to compose himself. "My best friend plays across the damn country now after getting traded out of nowhere and I might have just broken my damn ankle in a milestone game. I'm going to be out for like two months again."

(Y/N) crouches down in front of him and puts her hands on his knees. "I'm sorry, baby," she softly says. "I can't even begin to imagine how you feel right now. I know Jamie's in Philly right now and I know you won't talk to anyone else about how you feel so that's why I'm here. I don't want you to bottle up your feelings."

"It just sucks," Trevor says, voice shaky. "Everything's changing and I don't like it. I'm probably going to have to go to Jamie's and pack his apartment so I can send his stuff to him, especially now that I'm out and won't be able to do anything."

She gets up and sits next to her boyfriend. She grabs one of his hands and holds it on her lap. She rubs the back of her hand with her thumb. Trevor leans over and drops his head to her shoulder. She wraps an arm around his shoulders and plays with his hair.

"I'm here," she whispers. "I don't care if you don't want me here. I'll always be here."

"I know," Trevor replies. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm just frustrated and confused and in pain."

(Y/N) kisses his temple and buries her face in his hair. "It's okay," she says. "You're feeling a lot right now so I don't blame you for anything you say right now. Just know that I'll be here the entire time. As for Jamie, you know he's a phone call away whenever you wanna talk to him. He'll answer every single time you call him."

He nods. "Yeah," he mumbles. "Can we lay down until I meet with the doctor?"

"Of course," she replies. "Whatever you wanna do. What time do you meet with the doctor?"

"Three," Trevor tells her as he gets comfortable. Well, as comfortable as he can since he's hurt. "I have to leave at two."

That's enough time for both of them to take a two hour nap.

She sets her alarm for 1:30 then settles in next to him. She wraps a leg around his waist and rests her head on his forehead while he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

"Thank you for coming," Trevor whispers, his voice tired. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," she assures him. "Close your eyes for a bit. I'll wake you up when it's time to leave."

He nods and within seconds, his breathing evens out. She smiles and falls asleep herself knowing that Trevor is finally getting some rest.

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MASTERLIST

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[benedictscanvas]

be still, my foolish heart [1] - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

series warnings: lots of language throughout, some allusions to smut but nothing explicit, a LOT of fucking fluff mostly ngl

a/n: eeeek i have been furiously writing this the last few days and now that a few chapters are done i'm desperate to share. chapters will be out regularly, every couple of days or so. really hope you lot enjoy this one, i'm so grateful for all the recent love <3

series summary: when jamie gets called up to the england team for the first time, he's terrified. enter you, all smiles and swearing, and suddenly his only fear is falling head over boots for you.

next chapter | series masterlist

---

chapter one: to be alone with you

Jamie hadn’t found himself this nervous in quite a while. He’d been worried when he came back to Richmond of course - trying to prove to his team that he’d changed, that he was there for the right reasons, was a challenge. But he’d overcome it and now he had a family for the rest of his life. He thought very little could make him properly nervous anymore.

That was until he was sat in his childhood home, clutching his mum for dear life as they waited for the England team to be officially announced, refreshing the page over and over and over again on his phone. When it appeared at 2pm like clockwork and his eyes scanned the list of forwards only to find the name Jamie Tartt as clear as day, he was up in a moment, him and his mum screaming as they hugged each other and bounced around the room.

It had been the same at Richmond the next day, the congratulations coming thick and fast. He was overwhelmed and excited and eager to chat to every single person who’d listen to him about his dream coming true, but the nerves only kicked in when he was sat in a car with tinted windows a couple of weeks later, arriving at the training ground for his first ever training sessions, which would turn into his first ever England matches in just a few weeks time.

He didn’t know anyone here apart from a few Manchester City players who he had never said goodbye to, so he had no idea what they’d think of him. Sometimes, on a not-so-good day, his mind would wander to the idea of his old City mates laughing together about the shit he’d gotten up to the night before on Lust Conquers All. He hated thinking about it. He knew seeing their faces again would make him think about it more.

It had only been a few days but he missed Sam. Isaac and Colin and Beard and Ted and Keeley and Roy. Roy would have something so simultaneously horrible and inspiring to say to him right now. Richmond had become such a family, it was difficult to imagine playing football with anyone else.

“This is it, Mr Tartt,” the driver says, and that makes him feel even worse because Mr Tartt is his dad and he is not his dad. He hadn’t even realised they’d pulled into a car park.

“Just Jamie, yeah?” he says rather than running away as he gets out of the car. The man smiled, passed him the suitcase that had been sat in the boot of the car and drove off without a word. Now he was really alone.

He pulled his headphones from around his neck and placed them on his head, putting the playlist that the boys had curated for him back on. Ted had made everyone make a playlist for the boys on international duty over the summer, ‘somethin’ to remind you of home’, he’d said, and Jamie had honestly thought it was weird.

Now he was listening to ‘Adventure of a Lifetime’ by Coldplay, added to the playlist by none other than Ted himself, and he had to admit - it was catchy. And it reminded him of home.

He looked around for the entrance and spotted one other young man who he recognised from Liverpool making his way in at an entrance to his left, so he made a beeline for it.

He was just reaching the doors when a woman leaned into his eyeline just enough to catch his attention, just ahead of the doors. He was quick to tear the headphones from his head to avoid looking rude - it was his worst fear.

“Sorry, did ya say somethin’?” he asked, trying to wear a bright smile even if he knew it would come off a little worn. You appeared unphased, wearing a far brighter grin that he knew he could ever manage. It was warm; you were warm. And incredibly pretty, even though he was less keen on how quickly he noticed that.

“I tried to tell them that this whole thing would be a bit awkward when you had headphones on,” you said, and as he stepped closer to have a conversation, it was easier to notice that you were actually quite flustered, the bright grin masking some embarrassment, “I’m part of the PR team, we’re just doing some content for the Instagram. Ask the players what music they’re listening to when they walk in, people go crazy for it. If you’re trying to become the summer’s heartthrob, I recommend saying Taylor Swift.”

“They’re supposed to tell the truth!” a man beside you piped up, all nasal, but Jamie barely spared him a glance. He was still a little caught up in how pretty you really were the closer he got. You were very fucking pretty now that he was a couple of metres away, leaning on the handle of his suitcase. He scolded himself for even thinking about flirting with you.

You, now looking at the man who’d spoken as if you’d just remembered he was there. You cleared your throat.

“No, I know, sorry. I was just fucking with you,” you confirmed, turning back to Jamie, then wincing, “Playing with you, I mean. I swear I’m a very professional person and I don’t swear that much. At work.”

Jamie only realised a few moments into the silence that you were waiting for him to speak. He could feel the heat in his cheeks he had been desperate to keep at bay.

“I swear all the time,” he said, already kicking himself for how stupid that sounded, “Work or no work. Swear as much as you fuckin’ like.”

He can see at least a bit of your embarrassment leaking away, so maybe it hadn’t been such a stupid thing to say after all.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, head tilted in a way Jamie can only describe as fuckin’ adorable. All too quickly, you seem to snap back into work mode, “Anyway, Brian’s right. The truth would be preferable, but if the truth is Taylor Swift, good for you! Any chance you’d be willing to walk backwards a bit, then pretend to do this again for the camera?”

You had the decency to look embarrassed, again, to be asking, but he was quite sure he’d do whatever you wanted him to with those wide, pleading eyes of yours. Just the little kindness you’d provided had washed away a lot of the deep-seated fear he’d been feeling just moments prior. He’d do what he could to repay the favour.

“Yeah, ‘course, whatever you need. Just walk up, pretend I hear your question with me headphones on and then…answer?”

“You’re a natural, Jamie Tartt,” you offer up, signalling who he assumed was Brian to raise his camera back up and get ready. He can’t help himself, just like with his driver, although this time he hopes he won’t get blanked.

“Just Jamie, eh? Less syllables, an’ that.”

You nod and almost look impressed, but he can’t imagine why.

“I’m almost sure Just Jamie is the same number of syllables as Jamie Tartt actually,” you argue, and he almost thinks you’re serious until you break out in that big, bright grin again and he feels like he’s 16, “Sorry. Fucking with you again. You can call me Just Y/N if you like.”

Y/N. Suits you, he thinks. Almost as much as that shade of blue does, all rich and Richmond-esque. He’s sure he’s got a team shirt somewhere that matches that exact colour.

“It’s nice meeting ya, Just Y/N,” he says, then realises how much he’s smiling and needs to do something about it, “And you, Brian. It’s great to be ‘ere, actually, just in general like.”

You nod, kind. Brian does a signal Jamie doesn’t understand, but he walks back a few paces anyway and puts his headphones back on. This time, when you step forward to stop him, he knows what you’ve asked without hearing it and takes his headphones off with a genuine smile at you.

“Oh, this?” he says, making sure he doesn’t smirk when you giggle behind the camera at his acting, “Whole Richmond gang made a playlist for us international lot. Ted, the gaffer, he put a lot of inspirational stuff, you know? Right now it’s Adventure of a Lifetime, the one by Coldplay.”

He’s not sure if he’s meant to say all that or just say the name of the song, and he’s ready to ask if he should start over before Brian signals that he’s cut the camera and you’re gaping at him.

“Okay, I know I put it in your head that you could lie, but you’re actually telling the truth, right?”

Brian scoffs. The prick within Jamie wishes Brian didn’t exist.

“That was worse than just saying Taylor Swift to impress girls,” he mutters, and you make a face that only Jamie sees. You don’t like Brian either and he already likes having something in common with you.

“I know you think that music went downhill after the 1960s, Brian, but no need to take it out on literally everyone who comes through here today. We’re meant to be a fun greeting crew! Why don’t you go get a snickers or something?”

Brian looked disgruntled throughout your speech until you suggested a snickers - clearly the way to the man’s heart. He was turning and speed-walking to the what Jamie assumed was the nearest vending machine in no time.

Now you were pretty and assertive. A deadly combination in Jamie’s eyes, particularly when paired with the fact that he was now pretty sure you were Brian’s boss. You were staring after Brian reproachfully, with a bit of that embarrassment back that Jamie was desperate to rid you of.

“Uh, it was true, by the way,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “I can go again if you don’t want me to say that much, or-“

“No! No no, that was-“ you shake your head in a disbelief he doesn’t understand, “Brian’s been like this forever. Please don’t take it personally. I’ve been trying not to all morning.”

“It’s okay, really,” he tries to reassure you, “He works for you?”

He can see the smirk that you try to hide. It’s endearing.

“No, not technically. I like that you think so, though,” you smile, a real one again, just as he’d hoped, “I don’t normally work with Brian, he’s usually a match cameraman, not so much PR. I was just a woman down today.”

Jamie leans in, all conspiratorial, because he simply cannot help it.

“You pulled the small straw, huh?”

You giggle a little and he can feel himself puffing up with pride.

“Short straw, you mean?” you laugh, and some of that pride deflates in his chest. He could have sworn it was small, “Either way, yes. Very much so. I’ll be glad when Tiff’s back at it.”

“So when ya said that you were part of the PR team…you actually meant that y’ run it, right?”

“Guilty. What gave me away?”

“Just an air about ya,” Jamie says, because he doesn’t have a fucking clue what to say. You seem to like his answer, ducking your head a little in a way that’s driving Jamie to distraction, so he decides he’s definitely getting in over his head here. He’d already decided he was not going to flirt. It was a terrible idea, “Anyway, I’ve taken up enough of y’ time. Are y’ sure me bit was okay?”

You look startled at the mention of how much time he’s taken up, like you haven’t even thought about it. Soon enough, that ducked head is gone, replaced by the shoulders back, head up attitude that you’d greeted him with, the one that had told him you were in charge. Professional. He couldn’t decide which version he liked more.

“It was perfect, they’ll love it. Such a great story, even better that it’s true,” you confirm, then you add, like you’ve been holding it in, “Richmond ‘til we die, right?”

He actually feels his heart skip, just for a moment: a moment that tells him he’s absolutely fucked. You look like you’ve just told him the biggest secret of the century and he can’t help but believe you. 

“You-“ he’s too breathy, has to cough to correct himself, “You’re a Richmond fan? Or do ya have to say that to all of us?”

“I’m not supposed to say that to any of you,” you grin, “We’re supposed to keep club level allegiances to ourselves. We’re all one England team and all that. But, you know, star striker tells you the most adorable story about your hometown club, it’s pretty hard not to tell them. Think you can keep it to yourself?”

He’d definitely do whatever you asked of him right now. He wants to go and call Keeley right away, but he already knows what she’ll say. Bad idea: wrong place, wrong time, wrong woman. She’d be right. He shakes aside all thoughts of any harmless flirting with the exceedingly kind, exceedingly pretty Richmond fan. 

“Me lips are sealed,” he says, and he mimes it. He even throws the invisible key in your direction and watches you pretend to struggle to catch it, then mime swallowing it yourself. You finish with a rather convincing gulp then nod at him, like you've just entered a blood pact. He nods back, matching the serious energy.

“Enjoy England camp, Just Jamie,” you say, still with an air of fake seriousness the two of you are keeping up. He wants to shake your hand, continue to play pretend, but there’s the sound of a suitcase behind him and he knows you have work to do. He hopes you don’t like anyone's music choice more than his.

“See ya around, Just Y/N.”

You both nod again and it’s getting a bit stupid now but the two of you seem to want to keep it up. He tries ever so hard not to look back at you once he’s inside, and he almost manages it until he hears you talking to the next arrival. He turns to see you in full professional flow…

With two of his old City teammates.

It’s a bucket of cold water over his head. One pretty girl to greet him and he’s managed to use it as a distraction, a way of forgetting all his doubts, worries, fears. Seeing the two City guys brings them back full force, so he glances back at you once more, then turns to delve further into the training complex, hoping to find another face as friendly as yours.

There’s a voice in his head telling him that would be impossible, but he doesn’t want to listen to it right now.

---

if you got this far, i fucking love you <3 oneshot/drabble requests remain open for sexy little jamie tartt and his grumpy bestie roy!!

[mllersjoel]

you're obsessed

you're obsessed

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x fem!actress!reader

Warnings: swearing, no use of y/n

Summary: jamie tartt fic where he has a huge crush on an actress and sees her at a richmond event and she flirts w him he’s really shy bc he likes her but they hook up after idk

Wordcount: 1.6k

A/N: didnt manage to write any smut bc this was getting way too long teehee :D general warnings for swearing.

writing comms are open!

“Oi, Tartt! Stop stalking your actress and give me some laps,” Roy yells, shaking Jamie from his reverie. Jamie is not stalking her instagram. He’s just not; because a stalker would have notifications on as they obsessively checked their profile at least four times every minute. Jamie is only checking once every five minutes, and he doesn’t even have her notifications on. So there. Suck it, Roy.

“Fine, don’t give yourself an aneurysm,” he mutters, taking a quick minute to stretch before he’s running around the pitch. He just has a crush. That’s all. A little one. He first saw you in some thriller that came out last month, and something about you had him hooked. Initially he thought it was just the character you played, a regular yet charming civilian, pulled into the crime world. After watching (admittedly, way too many) interviews, he realised it wasn’t the character. It was you.

You with your witty remarks and comments. The way you laughed good naturedly and poked fun at your costars. The way you were clumsy and scatterbrained, in a terribly endearing way.

It didn’t help that you were also gorgeous.

So, yeah. Jamie had a slight crush. It was fine, though, because you were currently based in Los Angeles (you were in a new Marvel movie) and had no plans of coming to the UK anytime soon. 

“She’s right fit, though,” Isaac says, nudging Jamie as he runs past. 

Jamie feels his stomach tighten with jealousy before he catches himself. Why was he jealous? He didn’t know you and you probably didn’t even know he existed. Well, maybe you did, because he was sexy and a hot football player. Did you even watch football? Would you watch it if you knew he was in it?

Jamie remembers hearing something about a parasocial relationship from Keeley and resolves to not think about you.

At least while he was training.

***

He’s spraying on cologne in the locker room when Keeley bursts in, all smiles and pep.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God!”

“Is everything alright?” Ted asks, breaking away from Coach Beard who as far as Jamie could tell, hasn’t said anything but is managing to have a full conversation with Ted.

“You will not believe who I booked for this years’ Gala!”

Roy’s ears perk up at this as he slides into the conversation. “The Muppets?”

“No, Roy,” Keeley says, exasperated, “not the fucking Muppets. Only the hottest new actress on screen right now!”

At this point, all the boys have gathered around Keeley, jostling each other and trying to see the screen of her phone. Jamie fights his way to the front, and when his eyes focus on Keeley’s phone, he’s pretty sure his heart drops into his stomach.

It was you. There. With your smile and your eyes and your name and a headline.

You were coming to their Gala.

You.

He feels his heart drop into his stomach. This couldn’t be real. Maybe it was a mistype, or someone accidentally said they scheduled you but in reality you were on the other side of the globe. It was faked. It had to be.

He broke away from his team, practically running back to the changing rooms. Opening up your instagram, he pulled up your story. There, you had reposted the announcement.

Oh. Oh fuck.

***

On the day of the Gala, Jamie seriously considers hiring a stylist rather than just going with his gut. He needs to look good. Tonight is most probably one of the most important days of his life. His favourite actress, coming to his club’s Gala. Maybe, if he plays his cards right, you’ll bid on him.

Wait. Who was he kidding? He’s Jamie fucking Tartt. Of course you’ll bid on him. He could wear a trash bag and you’d bid on him, because he is just that fucking sexy.

Right?

He shoots a quick text to Keeley, desperate for a second opinion.

Me:

[image0.png]

thoughts? Xx

Keeley:

Ur hot babes!!

Gonna knock em dead xx

Lose the tie u look like a prick <3

He takes one last look in the mirror, running his hands through his hair. Yeah. He’s gonna show up and be so cool. He’s so cool.

***

They’re taking pictures on the carpet, and everyone can tell Jamie is not all there. He barely tells the paparazzi to take pictures of his good side, following it up with “And that’s any side.” His eyes keep darting around, every scream and shout of delight sending his stomach in knots in case you’re the one to step out of the limousine.

Maybe you just won’t show up. Maybe you were already inside.

He can’t decide which option is worse.

When he’s at the end of the carpet, about to head inside, he hears whistles and screams, different from the ones before. These sound a lot more excited, filled with more adrenaline and anticipation. Or maybe he’s just projecting. 

He turns, and sure enough, you’re there.

Stunning. That’s the only thing he can think of. You smile beautifully at the photographers, working the crowd with ease. It was as if you were friends, had a solid rapport with them with the way you were conversing back and forth.

“Close your mouth. You look like a fucking basking shark,” Roy says, elbowing Jamie in the stomach.

He flinches back, giving Roy a shove in return. “Oi, what was that for?”

“You’re not gonna make a good impression with you gawking like a fucking idiot. Go say hi or something. Be fucking normal.”

Jamie sends Roy an affronted look. “I am normal, you old bastard. Just because we don’t act like how you did in the 1800s doesn’t mean I’m being an idiot.”

Roy just growls, shoving past him into the building.

Jamie takes a step forward to follow when a voice catches his attention.

“Hey! You’re Jamie Tartt, right?”

He turns on instinct, a winning smile already plastered on his face. “I’ll do autographs once—you.”

You raise your eyebrows slightly, waiting for him to go on. “Once I what?”

“You’re, um, you’re her.” He says your name, almost reverently.

Your grin widens, almost giddy. “You know who I am?”

“I follow you—” before he could say more, your manager rushes in behind you, ushering you inside. You wince at him, apologetic, before heading inside.

Jamie stands there, dumbfounded. 

I follow you?  That’s what he had to say? Now he really does sound like a stalker. He scrubs his hand over his face, groaning in disappointment.

He’s gonna make it up to you. He has to.

***

Inside, he sees he’s sat with Ted and Roy as well as a few other people and an empty seat next to him. He largely ignores his own table, trying to catch sight of you and not succeeding in the slightest. He huffs a sigh of annoyance, sliding into his seat.

Ted notices his glum aura, nodding sagely. “It’s the oysters, isn’t it? Because I know they have to try to make the flavour appeal to everyone but adding this much lemon is just downright insultin’.”

“It’s not the oysters, coach.”

Ted frowns. “The placemats? I was never really an eggshell white person myself but—”

“Jamie’s pining over an actress he thinks I don’t see him stalk on insta when he’s supposed to be running drills,” Roy cuts in, tired of Ted’s guessing.

“I’m not pining,” Jamie pouts, crossing his arms in a decidedly not childish way.

Before Roy could get another rebuttal out, the seat next to him is being filled, and once again he sees you, smiling at him. “Actresses are overrated,” you say, placing your napkin over your lap, “trust me.”

Jamie’s blood runs cold, convinced the universe is playing a cruel trick on him. Running into you is an absolute dream, he’d never deny that, but running into you with both Ted and Roy there? He may as well be taken out back and shot.

He must’ve been sitting there agape for too long, because before he knows it, Ted is reaching a hand over and giving yours a shake.

“Ted Lasso, it’s a pleasure to meet ya’. I absolutely loved you in that thriller that came out last June. Had me on the edge of my couch! And I know Jamie here liked it as well, he was bawling a right mess by the end of it.”

You turn to look at Jamie, and having the full force of your attention on him made him nearly choke on air. “Were you really?”

Jamie licks his lips, trying to gain some composure. “Bawling is sayin’ a lot, really. More like a reasonable cry.”

You nod along, clearly not buying it. 

“I’ve been keeping up with your games this season. The goal you scored against West Ham the other day was seriously impressive. You were practically miles away from the net.”

Immediately, Jamie perked up. “You like football?”

“Well, I’m no expert, but I definitely try to watch all your games if I can.”

Jamie leans in, feeling bold and taking your hand in his. “Richmonds games? Or my games?”

You shrug. “Depends on the hair.”

He laughs, leaning back in his chair, body turned towards you. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

[its-time-to-write]

Hi!! I absolutely love yo he fics talk about carrying the Jamie tartt fic community 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

could you please write something about like the Richmond team being out at a bar and someone kissing Jamie and reader seeing and the chaos that ensues, hopefully with a happy ending but I trust whatever you want to do 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Haha hey, thanks! I write because I have a lot of things in my head, so thanks for enjoying it and for requesting!

Also I literally hate looking for gifs because I can never find the ones I want

wrote all your lines in the script in my mind

“Why did I let you drag me here?” you ask your absolute best friend the whole world, “I hate bars so much!”

Colin grins. “It’s good for you to get out of your flat and into the real world for a change. You’re getting all pasty.”

“I am not!”

You can’t help but catch onto his infectious mood. He’s still happy after scoring a winning goal, so he and Michael convinced you to go out with them even though it was almost a whole week ago. 

You and Colin had grown up together, kicking the football around his backyard until age ten, when you declared you were never playing with him again because he was “unbeatable.” 

You hate losing. 

You two had been inseparable, even at university. Colin was more outgoing, what with football and all. You were too, in your own way, but you hated bars. And going to the club. You said it was too many drunk, sweaty people but both Michael and Colin promised that it would be fun this time. 

“If I have to go, you have to go,” Michael had said to you. 

You had groaned, but acquiesced. You’re not too sure of your decision anymore, especially because of how many footballers are present.

The last time you were out with them, one of Colin’s teammates had taken it upon himself to flirt with you the entire night. And he flirted very well. Like, so well that you went home that night incredibly flustered. So well that it now occupied a permanent place in your brain. You played the moment he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear on repeat in your mind, like a tab on your laptop that you couldn’t bring yourself to close. 

And you told fucking Michael, who told fucking Colin, who then teased you about it mercilessly until you swore you’d tell the press about the Incident when you two were ten.

Colin shut up after that. 

Actually, that’s not entirely true. You’d go out to coffee and he’d say, “Saw your footballer today,” and you’d say, “He’s not MY footballer,” and Michael would ask, “Then why are you blushing?” so you’d respond, “I’m not blushing, it’s just hot in here, alright?”

Anyway, you’re at this fucking bar filled with fucking footballers and you catch yourself looking around the room for one in particular, and Michael catches you too. He doesn’t say anything, just winks at you and pulls Colin over to an open booth. 

You tell Colin all the time that you like Michael better than him. It’s because Michael knows the meaning of the word discretion. 

“I can be discreet,” Colin says. 

“And I can play football,” you reply.

Michael says you two bicker like a pair of siblings. He’s not wrong.

Right now, though, you’re not bickering. A few of Colin’s friends are filling in the booth. Sam slides in first, then Isaac, and then finally Jamie. 

Michael is sitting opposite Sam, then Colin, then you. 

You’re all squished in, ordering drinks and food, swapping stories and laughing like you’ve known each other for ages. 

You suppose you sort of have. 

You’ve known Colin the longest, obviously, but the next one is Isaac. You met him shortly after university because he was always around Colin. You met Sam once he signed for Richmond, and Jamie when he domineered the little triad of him, Isaac, and Colin. 

You really didn’t like Jamie. 

You told Colin all the time that he was a prick and a bully, but Colin wouldn’t listen. 

It actually was the cause for one of your biggest fights. You two didn’t speak for three months. 

Then Roy head-butted Colin and Jamie was gone, and you’re sure there are other details in between but whatever the case, Colin was at your doorstep with takeout and an apology. You watched Look Both Ways and argued about which was was the best. And that was that. 

When Jamie showed back up, you were less than thrilled. 

“If you fucking act like that prick again, I’ll fucking sabotage this date,” you had said. You were setting up Colin with a friend of yours named Michael. You didn’t know him incredibly well, but you had a lot of mutual friends who absolutely adored him. You were pretty sure he and Colin would click but you didn’t want Colin to act like a douche again. 

He didn’t. It worked out for him. 

Jamie knew who you were to a certain extent, which you suppose is why he was flirting with you that night at the club. Your distaste for him was evident, but you felt so uncomfortable in that environment. You were sitting alone, trying to make yourself invisible, when a tipsy Jamie found you and began to make it his mission to get you to a) smile and b) not hate him. He succeeded at both, as well as secret mission c) make you blush and fall madly in love with him. (Not that he knew that option existed.)

But he did that with all the girls, so you tried not to let it go to your head. 

It did anyway, which is why you’re sitting in this booth in this bar trying not to look at his perfect face for to long and pretending you don’t notice that his foot is resting next to yours under the table. 

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” he says, pushing himself up. You can’t help but notice the glint of his thin gold chain and the way his shirt hugs his bicep. Colin pokes you under the table. 

You look back to the group and try to immerse yourself in the conversation, but you are far too distracted. Your eyes keep flicking to Jamie. 

Jamie, as he orders a drink. Jamie, as he laughs to the bartender, Jamie as he… kisses a fit blonde girl in a tight skirt?

You look back to your table, eyes fixated on the chips in front of you. Oh. You suppose that settles things then. 

You close the tab in your mind and try to muster up some of the old dislike you had for Jamie. It’s not really working, because all you can think about is how he drunkenly waxed poetic about your eyes and told you he had liked them even when they were angry. 

This is the first time you’ve seen him since that night, so it’s not like it’s that big of a deal. What were you expecting, for him to soberly declare his love? Maybe Colin had over-hyped the way he said Jamie had asked about you the next day. Maybe he was exaggerating when he said he caught Jamie looking at the picture of you and Colin from uni that Colin had taped to his locker. 

Maybe you were looking for something real in someone who was just looking for the next good time. 

It doesn’t matter though, because it was just a crush. That’s what you tell yourself as you get up and tell the table you’re going to get some fresh air. “Too many sweaty boys,” you say with a nose wrinkle, and a squeeze to Colin’s hand that means I’m feeling anxious and need cold air. 

You’re breezing out the door by the time Jamie returns, hair slightly tousled and frazzled expression. Michael and Colin exchange a look.

—

Meanwhile, you’re outside freezing just a little bit. The cold air is a welcome shock to your system, so you don’t mind the way you’re shivering. You take a deep breath, envisioning your lungs expanding to the point of popping. Your breath comes out in a whoosh, and you feel the anxiety beginning to dissipate. You stand, back against the bar wall, puffing cold air into the sky for a long time, tears welling in your eyes but refusing to fall. 

You’re outside so long, that when the door opens and you hear footsteps coming toward you, you’re sure it’s Colin or Michael coming to make sure you haven’t been murdered. 

“You plannin’ on freezing to death?” asks a voice that is neither Colin nor Michael. The owner of said voice leans against the wall next to you, mirroring your position. He’s so close you can feel heat radiating off his body, but you’re not quite touching. 

You shake your head. “No, I’m not,” you hear yourself saying, “I just got a little anxious and the cold air is good for me, so… here I am.”

Jamie makes a concerned hm and nothing else. He just stands there next to you, not touching but still too close. 

“Why are you out here?” you ask, breaking the silence. “Thought you’d be inside. Looks like you met someone interesting. She might be missing you.” 

There’s no malice in your tone. You’re just stating facts as an observer. As a friend, maybe. The only thing that colors your words is just a hint of sadness. You’re sure Jamie won’t register it. 

He grimaces and shakes his head. “Ain’t my friend. Some fan who thinks it’s fucking cool to kiss a footballer. Weren’t paying attention, otherwise I could’ve blocked it. I fucking hate it when that happens. It’s like, they don’t even see me as a real person. Just a sexy lad they can do whatever with.”

You chuckle at the way he says “sexy lad.” It reminds you of the way he had told you he had been a “wee sexy baby.”

“That fucking sucks,” you say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize, otherwise I wouldn’t have said it like that.” You’re taking deep, calming breaths, still trying to get rid of that anxious feeling. 

Jamie just shrugs. He makes no indication that he’s going to continue speaking so you ask, “So, is that why are you out here, then? Is it to get away from her? Because if anyone should have to leave, it’s her. Pretty sure we could talk to someone and get her kicked out.”

You shiver, cold air beginning to seep through your coat. Jamie closes the gap between you, his bicep pressing against yours. You stifle another shiver, this one not from cold. 

“Nah,” he replies, “that’s not why I’m here. Wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Oh. That’s weird. “Why didn’t Colin or Michael come?”

Jamie shrugs again. “Colin said some shit about fuckin whatever and Michael said the same fuckin shit, so…” he trails off. 

You look up at him. “Jamie. You’re not making any fucking sense. I don’t know if it’s the cortisol flowing through my body or if you’ve had too much to drink, but you have got to be a whole lot clearer.”

That seems to get his attention, and bring him back to the reality that you two are outside, in the fucking cold, and he’s chatting with you as if nothing is wrong. 

Jamie puffs out a breath, watching it coil into the air. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, then settles on: “I ain’t drunk.”

You’re still looking at him. He’s right. He’s stone-cold sober. 

“I wanted to make sure you were alright. Colin said that you’d probably rather see me than him so… I dunno, I fucking came out here. I’ve been thinking about you ever since the last time we talked.”

Your cheeks flush bright red, and you’re grateful for the night sky. You keep taking your deep breaths. 

Jamie continues, “You flirted with me for fucking five seconds, and it’s like- I forgot you hated me. Didn’t care about anything anymore, you just smiled at me fucking one time and I felt like I was floating.” He stares at the sky. “I fucking hate talking about feelings and shit, and you’re basically Colin’s sister, so I figured I didn’t have a chance. But I’ve been fucking head-over-heels since the first time you glared at me.”

You’re pretty sure this is an anxiety hallucination. That’s a thing, right?

Jamie is no longer staring at the sky, but looking at you. He breathes out a laugh. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make it weird.” He moves to go back inside but you grab his arm. 

“Jamie,” you say. The look on his face when you say his name is so hopeful, that you feel your heart shatter and reform almost instantaneously. “Jamie, you- you like me? You came out here because you like me? And that’s why you were drunkenly flirting with me last month?”

“Yeah, yeah it is.” 

Your hand is still on his arm, and you’re standing face to face. You’re still breathing heavily, but so is he. You slowly run your hand up his arm and cup his face. He’s staring at you, mere inches apart, as you stand on tiptoe to reach his lips.

He kisses you back with the hunger of a starving man, arms wrapped around your waist the moment your lips make contact. You’re pulling each other closer, forgetting the freezing cold, when you hear an, “Oi, boyo.”

It’s Colin and Michael, walking out from the bar, headed home. 

You and Jamie break apart and Colin points to him. “Break her heart, Michael and I will break your fucking legs.”

Jamie grins and nods, and you just roll your eyes. You’re going to have to tell them everything, but right now they’re walking away and it’s fucking cold, so Jamie’s pulling you back to him again to pick up where you left off. 

[alwritey-aphrodite]

day at the pool with our boy James Tartt <3

Anything for you, my beautiful and smart-as-hell wife <3

2023 Summer Blurbs

Fuck Jamie Tartt and fuck his slutty little shorts.

This was a family event, with Keeley and Roy and sweet little Phoebe, and Jamie’s running around showing off his perfect fucking thighs. Damn everyone who decided men should start wearing 5 inch inseams on their shorts.

And it wasn’t that he looked bad, or ridiculous the way he did when he wore his hair all slicked back, he looks infuriatingly good. And there was nothing you could do or say about it.

“Oi!” A voice from behind you shouts, paired with hands squeezing your waist, making you squeal and quickly turn your head from where Roy and Jamie are attempting to push each other into the pool as Phoebe watches on and giggles to see Keeley with a giant grin on her face.

“Jesus, Keeley, you almost gave me a heart attack,” you respond with a hand over your rapidly beating heart to prove your point, but she just laughs at you.

“You’re allowed to talk to him, y’know,” she tells you with a sly smile as Jamie and Roy go splashing into the pool and Phoebe falls into a fit of laughter.

“I have no idea what you mean.” You try to slip away and make your way to your sunchair, but Keeley just sits down next to you, that knowing smile of hers never leaving her face.

“Don’t you think it’s a little weird there are so many adults at Phoebe’s party?” You ask, trying to change the subject while trying not to watch as Jamie hoists himself out of the water.

“Well, she’s gotta invite Roy, and Jamie’s Roy’s best friend, and she has to invite me because she loves me, and she has to invite you because we’re besties.” Keeley explains it all very clearly, and you can’t help but to laugh.

Phoebe, despite being a child, is one of your favorite people in the world, and you’re really just thankful she likes you enough to invite you to this pool party of hers.

And not just because it means you get to stare at Jamie, soaking wet in his swim shorts.

You and Keeley carry on talking, Phoebe coming over to join you when her mom runs back inside to grab more drinks, and you’re so carried away with your girl talk, getting all the drama from Phoebe about her classmates, that you barely notice when a dripping-wet shadow blocks the sun.

Suddenly, a pair of hands are grabbing and tugging you up from your spot on the sunchair, your protests and attempts to grab at Keeley for help practically useless as you get dragged closer and closer to the edge of the pool. You’re so disoriented that it’s not until you catch a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of your eye that you realize Jamie is the one terrorizing you.

Before you can tell him to stop, the two of you go tumbling into the water, his hands a firm grip on your waist. Sputtering, you break through the surface to see Phoebe laughing at you, and it’s practically impossible to keep a smile off your face when you hear that sound. Jamie has a proud look on his face, and you just roll your eyes when he leads forward to kiss you.

So much for keeping your relationship a secret for now.

[holylulusworld]

The past always catches up - Halloween

This story was written for @jtargaryen18's Jamie's Halloween Challenge 2023

My prompt was: The Unexpected Visitor: On Halloween night, an unexpected visitor knocks at your door. It's not a trick-or-treater but something else.

Square filled for @buckybarnesbingo: U2: “I knew it was you.” 

Summary: The Unexpected Visitor: On Halloween night, an unexpected visitor knocks at your door. It's not a trick-or-treater but something else.

Trope: Villain Reader

Pairing: Winter Soldier x former Handler!(fem) Reader

Warnings: angst, fear, implied revenge, mentions of Hydra/Bucky’s past, implied/past abuse/sexual abuse on the Winter Soldier, hand around throat, no happy ending

Rating: Mature

Words: 1,1 k+

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Life is funny, isn’t it? How does the saying go? The past always catches up. 

You can run. You can hide. You can change your name and appearance. But you cannot run away from the guilt you feel, nor the sins you committed.

In the waking hours, you regret your doings. And at night, you have nightmares. You can see every soul you ever hurt. Guilt is eating on your body and soul.

You’ll never be able to wash away the sins sticking to your skin.

How many souls did you doom? How many people did you condemn to commit crimes in the name of an organization so evil that its name alone plants fear into people's minds?

Hydra. 

You’re not an innocent victim. Back then, you willingly worked for them. It was the money they offered that made you forget about morals and humanity.

Growing up poor, but with a sharp mind and ambitions you’ll never be able to reach without money does this to people. If you see a chance, you take it. Sometimes you sell your soul on the way.

After Hydra fell apart, you realized how evil the people you were working for truly were. Until that day, they protected you at all costs. 

Being one of their only experts on mind manipulation made you irreplaceable to them. That was, of course, until you made one mistake, and their most important asset managed to escape.

The Winter Soldier.

Your voice and gentle words didn’t lure him in any longer. The asset learned that you were just another monster keeping him hostage. He broke out of the chair during your last session and killed every soul trying to stop him.

You’re the last handler alive. The only one he didn’t kill…yet.

He’s out there, waiting for his chance to get his hands on you. You know your time is running out. The moment he stepped out of the darkness to join forces with Captain America, you knew your life was over.

On the run, you barely have the time to catch your breath until one of the Avengers shows up. More than once you barely escaped.

You’re so tired of running away. 

Night terrors keep you awake, and you’re slowly losing your mind.

Every shadow looks like him – the man you forced to do unspeakable things. 

Not only in the name of Hydra.

No. You abused your powers and made him your compliant toy. On the cold nights, when you were stuck at the Hydra base, when no one was around but you and the asset you found shelter in his lap.

He wasn’t himself. It was wrong. But you already crossed so many lines you didn’t care about the consequences. 

What’s one more sin? Right?

If the dark side inside of your soul already consumed all the light left, nothing is keeping you from taking what you want. And you wanted him. 

That’s in the past. Now, that you have faced the consequences of your doings, you know every step you took, guided by Hydra, led you down the road to hell.

Your soul is lost. There is nothing you can do about it but sit and wait for the end to come.

If you can see his steel-blue eyes one last time before you take your last breath, it will be enough to let you rest in peace…

You found shelter at an old, abandoned Hydra hideout. You’re the only soul left knowing about this place. 

It’s not much, a cabin that’s falling apart, and nothing but trees around. It’s cold, and the fireplace isn’t working as it should.

You’re used to hiding in such places. There’s no place for luxury and coziness in your life. That’s in the past. You don’t deserve good things in your life.

It’s past midnight when you wake from another nightmare. You wheeze and press your hand to your heart, inhaling and exhaling slowly to calm your racing heart.

Cold sweat makes your clothes stick to your skin, and you shudder at the coldness creeping into your bones.

Glancing at the new burner phone you huff. It’s Halloween out of all days. 

You slowly slip out from under the covers, hissing as your feet touch the cold floor. When you are about to walk toward the small kitchenette a knock makes you freeze.

It's not a trick-or-treater, that’s for sure.

Holding your breath, you turn around to stare at the door. You press your hand to your heart and close your eyes. God forgot about you years ago, but you sent a prayer, nonetheless.

This is it. The moment you’ve been waiting for. 

Your feet carry you toward the door on their own. Muscle memory is a handy thing. Isn’t it? Even if your mind is a mess, your body knows what to do.

It’s like your body is drawn to the person knocking at your door. 

Your trembling hand grips the door handle, you take a deep breath and open it.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Soldat.” He’s as surprised as you are as you look him straight in the eyes. His face is hidden by the mask you know so well, but his eyes give away his excitement. “I’m glad you finally came to collect.”

The Winter Soldier dips his head. This is not what he expected you to do. You’ve been hiding from him and his allies for years. And now, you stand in front of him, shivering at the cold.

You’re not the powerful handler he remembers. “I knew it was you,” he says. His voice sounds different but as dangerous as ever. “Steve didn’t want to believe me. He said you are dead.”

“He’s not wrong,” you reach out to grab his mask and rip it off his face. “My heart is still beating but I died years ago. I’ve only been waiting for you to end me.”

“дорогая (darling),“ he growls before lunging forward to wrap his metal hand around your throat. Your eyes drop to his arm, focusing on the new color as he squeezes your windpipe. You close your eyes and embrace the darkness. “Goodnight…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[theicarusconstellation]

61 jegulus 😊😊😊😊

you and @ecstarry requested this one so here’s this for both of you😈😈

prompt: 61). “I love you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married.” // jegulus // sfw // words: 944

Regulus studies the wedding rings on the ring bearer’s pillow in his dressing room with loathing. His stiff, old-fashioned dress robes make him fidget, wanting to crawl out of his own skin the closer he gets to the ceremony.

The ceremony. The event that will ruin his life and chain him to a woman he has no room in his heart to love.

Not that there is anything wrong with Cereus Greengrass; she just…

Isn’t him, a small, despicable voice in his head whispers. She isn’t the one who has seen his scars. She isn’t the one who broke down his brainwashed mentality and helped him see that his former truths were bigotry and hatred.

She isn’t the one who begged him not to go when he announced his engagement.

Regulus had been betrothed since birth to Adelaide Rosier, but that all fell through once Sirius ran away, plummeting the Black family’s status down to the bottom of the totem pole. For a brief while — two glorious years — he allowed himself to believe that he would be able to marry someone of his own choosing. This hope only grew stronger once he fell in love with him.

Beautiful brown skin and golden wire-rimmed glasses. Forested eyes and warm muscles that flexed and relaxed on the Quidditch pitch (and in the soft retreat of the Come-and-Go Room). A secret just for Regulus, one he could hold close to his heart until the time came to reveal it to the world.

Then, Lucius properly introduced Walburga and Orion to the Greengrass family. As it turned out, their eldest daughter was in need of a husband, and Regulus fit the bill down to the letter.

He could see no way out. Voldemort himself believed that it was something that had to be done. Regulus had no choice.

Or so he tells himself.

Yet sitting at his dressing room vanity, listening to the orchestra play the tune of noon, he cannot help but wonder what would have happened if he went with James. If he had accepted that extended hand and trusted that whatever plan his boyfriend had concocted on the spot would be successful. Would it be their wedding happening at this venue today instead?

No, he cannot dwell on the past. James has gone away, and Regulus himself is at fault for that.

He hasn’t had any lovers since you left him, that voice whispers again.

“Shut up,” Regulus hisses aloud through gritted teeth.

“Well, damn, Reg. I just got here, and you’re already sending me away.”

That voice. He knows that voice. He’s dreamt of that voice.

His back stiffens, and he uses all his courage to drag his eyes up from the vanity counter and to the mirror, where he sees behind him —

“Jamie?”

The nickname slips out like a desperate plea, begging to be heard after eons of disuse.

“Surprise.” The boy in the mirror grins weakly, though his voice cracks and trembles.

“You can’t be here.” Please don’t leave.

“I had to try. I won’t stop trying until both of us are dead. I had to take a few months to plan after you told me about…this, but I’m here now, and Regulus —“ James walks closer to him, and Regulus’ legs lift him up against his will, pulling him toward old familiar comforts.

James’ hands find his face — he’s in an old Gryffindor sweatshirt and jeans, but Regulus couldn’t care less — and he says with no hesitation,

“I love you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married. Sirius is in a Muggle car out front waiting for us to come out. We’ll go away, far away, to your uncle Alphard’s place; he’s already agreed. If anyone tries to stop us, I’ve gotten Crouch and Rosier on board to cause a diversion. Regulus, please, I —“ His voice catches, and Regulus feels his entire world change in the span of a second.

Could he do it? Could he leave behind everything, the altar, the rings, the loveless marriage, his parents? But what about the dangers? What about Voldemort? If he goes with James, will the Dark Lord find them? And Sirius — they haven’t spoken in years. Is he really outside, willing and eager to help him escape?

“We all want you back. We need you back. I love you so much, Regulus,” James insists. Regulus’ cheeks heat up between his palms.

I can’t.

“Okay.”

What?

“What? You — you mean it?”

“Okay. I mean it. Take me. Now. Before…”

Before I change my mind. Before the ceremony starts and the music plays and the rings are slipped on and my life stops and my prison begins.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you —“ James half-sobs, cutting himself off by pulling Regulus’ face toward his and crashing their mouths together in the first kiss Regulus has had in a long, long time.

They spend no more moments on words after that. James grabs his hand, and they both hurry out the window, which is apparently what James used to enter the room. How he got in without Regulus noticing is a mystery neither of them will ever solve.

James hasn’t stopped murmuring “thank you”s, doesn’t stop even after they’re hours down the road, headed for a countryside where love grows and happiness shines down in the form of sun rays.

Regulus doesn’t mind, he curls up in the arms of the one he loves and listens to the soft rumblings within James’ chest as he speaks, the vibrations lulling him into his first true moment of relaxation since that night in the Come-and-Go Room so many months ago.

[oskea93]

← Take Me Away (Intro) →

OC x Jamie Campbell Bower (AU 1970s)  Warnings: TW—> This story will contain the following: (domestic violence, physical/verbal assault, cursing, sexual content, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, self harm). Please do not read if you are triggered by any of these warnings. This is a work of fiction only. I do not own Jamie or any other famous people mentioned. 

A/N: Hello again! So I decided to restart this story again because i'm currently in my JCB era and there just needs to be more stories out there featuring this man! With that being said, Jamie will not be the Jamie we know and love today. His name and image is being used, but there will be moments where he is not a very nice guy. Kind of like Caleb from Horizon. But there will also be moments where he is the lovable guy he typically is. I just want to thank those that either stuck with this fic or just recently found it!

☺︎ IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED, JUST DROP A COMMENT ☺︎

“So, tell me about Jamie.”

“What do you wanna know?”

The interviewer looked down at her notes, “What was life with him like – in private.”

I chewed on my bottom lip, somewhat afraid to answer. “Chaotic- “I started. “Wonderful in many ways but a total shitstorm all at the same time. He knew what to say and when to say it, but his words and actions weren’t always pleasing.”

I paused, searching for the right words to convey the whirlwind that was our life together. “Jamie was incredibly charismatic. He could light up any room he walked into, and people were naturally drawn to him. His charm was almost intoxicating; it made you feel special just being around him. But that charm had a flip side. In private, it wasn’t always so magical. There were days when his mood would swing dramatically, and you never knew what to expect.”

“How so?” The interviewer questioned.

I shrugged my shoulders, slouching a bit in my seat as I reflected on the complicated nature of the person in question. "He was his own villain," I began, my voice tinged with a mix of sympathy and disappointment. "He tried so hard to make a name for himself in the industry. After years of working closely with all these high-profile artists, indulging in the debauchery they played with, he lost sight of who he truly was."

I paused, choosing my words carefully as I continued, "Your sins catch up to you eventually, and the way you treat people changes. It's like a slow erosion of your values and morals until one day, you look in the mirror and realize you're not the person you thought you were."

My companion listened intently, absorbing my words before posing a poignant question, "Was he the love of your life?" The inquiry hung in the air, laden with layers of emotion and history, hinting at a deeper connection that transcended professional ties and delved into matters of the heart.

As I delved into the depths of my memories, recounting the chapters of my life that intertwined with the complexities of rising to fame at the tender age of 17, I knew that the tale of Jamie and me would be a pivotal thread in the fabric of my story. It was a narrative rooted in scandal and secrecy, a forbidden love that blossomed amidst the chaotic backdrop of rock 'n' roll excess and the stark contrast of a preacher's daughter entwined with a man hired to shield her from the very temptations she found herself succumbing to.

We wove a web of deception, attempting to shield our burgeoning relationship from prying eyes and wagging tongues, but the silent exchanges, the subtle gestures, and the lingering gazes between us belied the truth we sought to conceal. Jamie was a force of nature, a whirlwind of contradictions that both thrilled and terrified me in equal measure. His charm was a siren song that beckoned me into uncharted waters, his humor a balm to soothe the turbulence within my soul, his love a flame that flickered dangerously close to consuming us both.

In Jamie, I found a kindred spirit, a partner in crime who mirrored my own reckless abandon and insatiable thirst for life. He was the grenade to my pin, the catalyst that ignited a chain reaction of emotions and experiences that would forever alter the course of my existence. He was the bomb to my clock, ticking away the moments until our inevitable collision, our destinies irrevocably intertwined in a dance of passion and peril.

I had always been taught that God sends people into our lives for a reason, be it for our growth or our downfall. Jamie was no exception—a temporary fix that morphed into a permanent fixture, a fixture that brought both the brightest joys and the darkest sorrows of my young life. His presence was a paradox, a riddle wrapped in an enigma, a conundrum that I struggled to unravel even as I found myself ensnared in the web of our shared destiny.

I shifted in the plastic seat, my denim-clad legs crossing tightly. “Well—” I spoke, my voice wavering slightly. “That’s quite a title to give someone who could love you one minute and then treat you worse than a dog the next.” I smiled sadly, the memories flooding back with a mix of warmth and pain.

As I penned the words that would immortalize our tumultuous love affair on the pages of my memoir, I couldn't help but marvel at the intricate tapestry of fate that had woven our paths together. The story of Jamie and me was a testament to the volatile alchemy of passion and pain, of love and loss, of growth and destruction—a story that would echo through the annals of time as a cautionary tale of the perils and pleasures of forbidden love. And as I laid bare the raw truths of our tumultuous romance, I knew that Jamie would forever hold a piece of my heart, a shard of my soul, a chapter in my life that would never truly be closed.

[pray4saint]

HI

idk if i have even requested anything from you before, but i <3 your work, so do with this what you will (and if you will) : james taking care of fem!reader when she's throwing up or even just has a cold :)

james taking care of his sick!gf!reader

masterlist & descrip. pg. 13+. fem!reader. established relationship. sick!reader. depictions of illness.

a/n. ugh yes i've been waiting for a request like this also HII / this isn't the best but i wanted to get something out for you dearie :]]

the first time you'd sneezed, james ignored it, figured it was just allergies. when you'd complained about being freezing despite the warm weather, he gave you his jacket and brushed it off. when you'd told him you were feeling a little sniffly, he gave you a wad of tissues and rubbed your arm, again brushing it off.

it wasn't until you were knocking on his door, covered in sweat, barely clothed, after lights out, just before he was going to turn his own lights out and go to bed that he knew something was really wrong. ”jamie..” you whined, hitting the door with your palm flat yet again. he sat up, placing his book on the table and strolling over to the door. he opened the entry point and looked you up and down. he looked tired, and he was, but he looked it much more than he was. ”doll, are you okay?” you shook your head at him and he motioned you inside, moving out of your way.

he walked you back to his bed, watching carefully as you sat down and tried to catch your breath. as he took in how you looked before him, he realised that you were sick, and the previous little comments you'd made throughout the day were starting to make a lot more sense.

your eyes were trained on him as he got down on his knees between your legs and he placed his hands on your upper thighs. ”can i get you anything princess? water? other clothes maybe?”

his alert concern and care was so quickly changed from his previous tired state and even with how much you felt like shit, it still made your heart flutter a little bit and your lips twitch up into a small, weak smile. then another wave of pangs hits across your body and you're groaning, falling over into your boyfriend's pillows. he's quick to follow you with his eyes and hands.

he looks around the darkened room before you finally speaks. ”jamie, i think m'gonna throw up..” your voice is low, barely above a whisper but james hears it all. ”alright.” he rubs up and down your arm. ”d'you want to go to the restroom?” you shake your head no. ”are you sure you're gonna throw up?” again you shake your head no. ”jus' have the icky feeling of it..” he nods slowly, ”ah, okay.” james' hand moves up to your face, palm on your cheek for a second. ”princess you're burning up.” he looks at your face scrunched up while his hand moves up, back of it against your forehead. ”i'll be right back okay? don't go anywhere.” you wanted to laugh, to say, as if i could, but you coughed instead, the dryness in your throat burning along your spine and up into your head.

james left your side and in the moment he was gone, you felt as if you were freezing, teeth chattering quietly, shivers and goosebumps ran up your arms, your legs trying to curl up into the rest of your body.

in the restroom attaches to the dorm, james was staring at himself in the mirror, waiting for the water in the sink to get cold, dry rag in hand. he moved the cloth into the flow of water, making sure it was fully soaked before turning off the faucet and wringing the rag out.

”here we go princess.” your boyfriend returned and as soon as he was sat on the floor again the heat returned to your body as well. he folded the rag into a rectangle and laid it on your forehead.

after a few moments of the cooling, you had started to doze off, and james watched with a smile. he shook your arm so he could tell you one last thing. ”i'm gonna grab a few things but when i come back, i'll be right here all night. okay?” with your eyes closed, you slowly nodded yes, trying to keep the cloth on your forehead. ”jamie?” you mumble out, and james' head snaps up from looking at the floor, humming. ”thank you for taking care of me. i don't know what i'd do without you.” he smiled, and although you couldn't see it, you could feel it radiating off of him.

”anytime princess, i'm sorry you're feelin' so crummy.” you smiled when he pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, letting the sleep finally get to you.

pray4saint© do not copy, translate or repost my work without my express permission.

[tillthelandslide]

That Ross Instagram AU was soooo cute. Could you write a one-shot about Ross and readers first time sleeping together?? Like maybe they've already been on a few dates but she wanted to take it slow and make sure he was serious about her before having sex.

Made for Me - Ross Macdonald Smut

18+ MINORS DNI

A/n: I tried to make this really sweet but I'm just too feral for Ross at the moment so it's not as sweet as I wanted it... Also I keep seeing photos with Ross with fans and Jesus Christ my husband has gotten more ripped! So obvs had to include that. Anyway hope you enjoy

You and Ross hadn't been dating for very long but you knew he was the one for you, you had been on quite a few dates before he left for tour, as many as you could fit in before you had to eventually say goodbye. You spent all your free time with the man and he was quick to introduce you to the band and everyone who he worked with, all of you becoming close quite quickly. You knew he was your person from the moment you met him, he seemed to just get you, understand everything there was to understand.

You wanted to make sure he felt the same way and that became perfectly evident whilst he was away on tour. You were no stranger to men seeking every opportunity to sleep with women whilst their partner was away and seeing as you and Ross weren't in a relationship you were half expecting him to take up the many opportunities he got whilst on tour.

But the many phone calls and facetime calls you got form him, from the confines of his hotel room when the other boys were out drinking or celebrating, made it perfectly clear he was serious. Or the many texts you got from the other guys, begging you to come see them on tour so Ross would stop complaining about how much he missed you, told you everything you needed to know.

"Would rather talk to you than go out love. 've missed you" he said one night, a slightly sad smile resting on his lips.

"Ross Macdonald denying a pint? That's not like you" you said, making him laugh before shrugging.

"What can I say? I'm a changed man" he said, you remember how you wanted to just drop everything in your life and buy a plane ticket to see him but that wasn't possible. Especially when he got interrupted by someone unknown to you, informing said person that he was on the phone to "his girl".

You surprised them on the last day of their tour, working with Jamie and the tour manager, to organise your arrival and organising with his brother to stay with them when Ross finishes tour, knowing it would be the first palace he wanted to visit because he mentioned it to you, practically begging for you to come with him. He told you he felt really conflicted because he wanted nothing more than to see you but also promised his brother he'd visit him and his nephew. You solved the dilemma yourself, not that he knew that just yet.

You arrived at the venue, Jamie sneaking you in through a back door, the show hadn't started yet. He gave you a warm hug upon seeing you, saying it was nice to see you again and he was looking forward to seeing Ross' reaction, again mentioning how moany he has been without you.

"Okay so Matty is coming to meet you and he'll take you to the boys, Ross has no clue what's happening, will probably think Matty's gone for a fag" Jamie says as he texts Matty. You and Jamie catch up before you see the curly man walking towards you, a large smile resting on his lips, running the last bit of distance and pulling you into a hug.

"Thank god you're here, wish it was a bit earlier, would've made the tour more bearable" he jokes pulling back to look at you.

"He's been that bad huh?" You say making Matty shake his head.

"You have no idea" he says, the two of you laughing. Ross is waiting in another room with the guys, a while away from where you, Matty and Jamie are standing but he swears he hears your laugh, convincing himself that he just misses you that much, that he's hearing things.

Matty walks in front of you, pushing the door slightly just to reveal his face to the guys in the room.

"Hey mate" he says, Ross's eyes find him, waiting to see what he wants "got a delivery here for you, Jamie just picked it up" Matty says, his voice so casual and it makes her smile.

"A delivery? For me? How special" he jokes making you hold back a laugh. Matty opens the door a second later and the two of you watch as the smile drops from his face, dimples disappearing as his mouth hangs open, before he's smiling widely again, eyes creasing the way you love, dimples popping, a genuine Ross smile that has your stomach swarming with butterflies.

He's standing not a moment later, large legs talking him to you in two long strides, next he's wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest, slightly lifting you off the ground.

You laugh loudly as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, placing a loving peck to his cheek.

"you're here, like actually here" he says simply as he pulls back from you to see you. He knew he heard your laugh.

"I'm here" you nod making him smile.

"Can't believe you're here, I've fucking missed you" he says.

"I've heard..." You say, eyes wandering back to the boys who all chuckle.

"You little shits" Ross says, briefly turning away from you to look at the guys who have snitched on him.

"You were becoming unbearable mate and that's coming from me" Adam says, who also has been missing Carly and his son (very understandable).

You chuckle at his words, eyes moving back to Ross who turns back to you, hand grasping your face gently, pulling you toward him to meet in a soft kiss before he allows you to move away from him and say hi to the guys, all of whom hug you tightly, thanking you for arriving (commenting on the fact it is the last show and your arrival was needed much earlier, not that you could've helped that).

You're then all talking, including the support act, tucked into Ross' side, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, not letting you go. You can't help but keep looking up at the man, wanting nothing more than to pull him into some secret room to show him how much you've missed him. The two of you had been taking things slow, not that you didn't do other things (both too desperate for each other not to do anything at all) but you were yet to have sex and you found yourself craving it now.

You allow him to leave you when he has to go on stage, pressing multiple kisses to his mouth, making him chuckle.

"Stand on my side of the stage yeah?" He asks and you nod up at him, of course you were going to.

"I'll miss you" he says, smilingly stupidly down at you.

"We lasted all this time, think we can last a bit longer" a double meaning to your words. He leaves you with one last firm and sensual kiss to your mouth, grazing his tongue against yours momentarily before pulling away. The little shit.

You watch from the side of the stage, never missing a single smile on the man's lips, never once missing the looks he was shooting towards you, many winks thrown your way.

After the show, you wait as Ross says goodbye to the guys, not rushing him as you knew despite him spending months with them, he'd miss them during the few weeks they had off. You say your goodbyes before the both of you head back to his hotel, hand in hand and catching up on everything you'd missed.

"So you are coming to see my brother with me?" He asks as he enters his room, placing your bag that he had been carrying down to the floor before pulling you towards him so he could hold you in his arms. You nod up at him as he smiles , leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

"That makes me so fucking happy" he says against your mouth. Your hands find his chest, smoothing over the muscles over his shirt. He sighs into your mouth befofe pulling away.

"Missed you so much" he says and you smile.

"I missed you too Ross. So much" you say, allowing him to press another kiss to your mouth, a more urgent one this time. He takes your bottom lip into his mouth, making you gasp against him, his tongue slowly finds its way into your mouth, moving languidly against yours as you grasp the back of his neck.

Your hands move from his neck, landing over his chest, pushing gently until he moves backwards, the back of his thighs hitting the bed so he sits down. He's quick to grasp your hips as you hold his shoulders, slowly lowering yourself onto the bed, hooking your legs over his until your straddling him.

He just can't get enough of you, wanting to be close to you at all times, so he pulls you into his arms again, just holding you against him in a crushing hug. Moments later he pulls away, his soft eyes find yours as the fingertips of his large hand drift over your cheek, landing on your jaw and holding you against his mouth.

The kiss is sweet and gentle, mouths moving slowly against each other, not needing or wanting to rush.

"I missed you" he repeats again, he had said it so many times but you weren't complaining. His mouth moves easily against yours, tugging at your bottom lip until you're quietly moaning into his mouth. When his tongue swipes across your bottom lip you can't help but gasp and the feeling makes you roll your hips down into his. He's quick to grasp your hips, controlling your movements, setting a slow torturous pace, one which gives you both pleasure but isn't enough.

"Ross I want you" you murmur into his mouth, making him groan. You can feel him hard and heavy beneath you and God how you had missed him. You knew the feeling of his fingers buried inside you and if was heaven and the way he pulsed against your tongue whilst your lips were wrapped around him. But you were beyond excited to him, all of him, deep in your core, his body and soul intertwined with yours as she showed you how he felt.

"Are you sure love? We don't have to rush this, we have all the time in the world. Need to make sure you're certain about this" he says, dark eyes piercing into yours, scanning your features for any sense of doubt, which of course he doesn't find.

"I want this. Do you?" You ask, insecurities creeping in.

"Desperately, but I can wait love... Id wait forever for you" his words have your heart pounding in your chest, stomach fluttering at the sentiment. You're quick to pull his mouth back to yours.

"I need you" you say this time, your words are hitting him differently now. His brown orbs somehow darken and he smears his mouth against yours, the kiss is passionate and has you moaning into him, hips continuing their slow grind against him, more forceful this time, pressing down harshly against him so he grunts into your mouth.

"Fuck love" he moans into your mouth, hands grasping your hips halting your movements making you pull away from him, a deep set frown on your face as you try your hardest to continue to move against him, his hands hold you in place, his firm grip only worsening your feral stage.

"Hold on a second love, want to take my time you" he says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, making the pout disappear. Your heart rate quickens at his words and the way his mouth is now moving slowly against your own. Tongue only swiping against yours in meaningful movements, taking from you only what you gave him.

"Can fuck you later, right now I just need to take my time, we only get the first time once, want to make it worth it" he says, airing his thoughts and apprehensions. Your brain gets caught up in the beginning of his words, your core tightening before your heart decided to take over, hearing the rest of the words and pulsing harshly at the sentiment.

"Ross" you say, the man smiling at the call of his name, never sounding so perfect than when it came from you. Your eyes were soft now when they met his and he can't help but grasp your face in his hands, gently pulling you back to his mouth, a chaste kiss before he pulls away.

"Gunna let me take my time?" He asks and you nod quickly, making him chuckle. He sighs deeply as he scans your features, his own heart soaring.

"I love you" he says, not able to contain it any longer. Your mouth falls open in a gasp and you freeze for a moment, before falling forward and kissing him passionately.

"I love you too" you mumble into his mouth. He takes his time in flipping you, resting on his elbows over you as to not crush you with his weight. He grumbles into your mouth as your small hand smooths over his beard, landing on his jaw and pulling him closer to you.

Although he wanted to take his time, he can't help but press his member against you, loving the way you sigh into his mouth.

"Ross" you moan, he isn't sure if it's a warning or a beg for more, maybe even both.

"What do you want love?" He asks, needing to hear you say it again. His mouth moves from yours, navigating it's way to your neck where firm kisses are pressed, accompanied by his tongue, swiping over the spot he knows you love.

"I want you" you sigh out, hand weaving it's way into his hair.

"You've got me, you've got me" he repeats into your neck, moaning when you raise your hips off the bed, needing some form of friction, the ache between your thighs needing to be quenched.

"You're going to be the death of me love" he says, pulling away from your neck, lips finding each other again and his hand runs along your side, untucking your shirt from your jeans and running his hand underneath it. Your skin is warm against his touch, you gasp as his calloused fingertips caress your torso, finally meeting the swell of your breast.

"Why?" You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as his hand rounds the back of you, singlehandedly undoing your bra, pulling the fabric away from your boobs so he can fondle your nipple.

"It's taking everything in me not to just fuck you" he groans and you moan loudly at his words. You don't say anything, just press another kiss to his mouth.

You knew if you begged him to fuck you, he would regret it, so you slow things down again. You knew he needed this time to be slow, you knew he needed to show you how much he loved you. And the truth was there would be plenty of other times he could fuck you harshly and quickly, and despite what the both of your minds are thinking in their currently ferral state, you both knew you didn't want this time to be like that.

You pull away from his mouth again, small hands finding the collar of his shirt, slowly undoing each button as you keep eye contact with him. He never knew such a simple task could be so intense. Finally his shirt is loose around his body, resting against his shoulders. His tanned skin is finally revealed to you, chest hair tempting you so you run your hands gently along his pecks which are heaving up and down.

Your eyes lower themselves to his abdomen, what once had a slight pouch (one in which you adored) was now harder under your touch, the muscles strengthened since you were last with each other. His new work out routine made him feel good and my god did it make him look it. You loved the old Ross, although he was more conscious about his body back then, now he was more confident and that's why you loved it.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours love?" He says, his tone airy, holding back a string of moans as your tongue swipes across the centre of his chest.

"Thinking of how you got so ripped" you say, your words making the large man chuckle above you. Your hands push against the fabric hanging loosely on his body, your hands moving along with it, down his muscular arms until it's off, you throw it somewhere.

"Yeah? Prefer me this way?" He asks and you know it comes from a place of insecurity.

"Not prefer... Never prefer" you say, mouth moving against his skin making him sigh "love you no matter what you look like..." Your voice trails off and his ears prick up at the silence, eyes snapping open to find you, needing you (if not for his egos sake) to finish your sentence.

"But?" He senses there is one.

"But fuck me you're hot" you say, finally running your hands down his abs, watching the way they contract before your fingertips are clasping his belt, quickly undoing it. Another act that Ross thinks is the hottest his ever seen. He tries not to let your words go straight to his head so he distracts himself with your body, but you can't help but smile as he smirks to himself.

His hands find the hem of your shirt, eyes asking for permission which you easily grant him, and so your shirt is pulled off, and next your bra which he had already undone. His mouth quickly finds your right breast, lips wrapping around the peaked pud, tongue swiping across his as you moan into the room.

"Ross" you sigh.

"Fuck you're so beautiful" he says as his eyes find yours again. You mouths meet again, not able to get enough each other. Your hands drift to his jeans again, not able to resist pressing your palm to the tent in his suit pants, he grunts into your mouth, but doesn't pull away this time, doesn't stop you. Maybe he had enough of taking his time, maybe this pace was good enough for the both of you.

"Love..." He says against your mouth as your hand continues to move against him, over the confines of his trousers. The noises he's making from just this have your core pulsing around nothing, feeling the emptiest it's ever felt. You knew you needed him and you needed him now.

You slowly undo his zip, thinking if you did it slowly enough maybe he wouldn't realise and wouldn't stop you.

"Love" he repeats again, you're worried he's going to stop your movements as he pulls away, but when he looks down to where you hand has halted against his zipper, before his eyes are snapping back to yours, you know to continue. With a slight push against his chest, he moves to the side, back against the bed as you stay at his side.

He was allowing himself this for now, he could worship your body after, knowing you desperately wanted him, in some form, you'd settle for anything right now. So he allows you to push down his trousers, chuckling as you take his underwear with them, not wasting time. His hard member snaps against his abdomen and he hisses as it meets the air, finally free. You almost drool at the sight, his huge cock that you had missed dearly (not as much as the man obviously) was leaking, the tip the redist you had seen it.

He watches as your eyes darken and how you bite your lip and he almost cums at the sight, only looking away from you when you wrap your hand around him, head snapping back momentarily due to the sudden pleasure. As your hand works against him he knows he needs to do something for you, he wants it more than anything, he wants to hear how you repeat his name over and over as you clench around his fingers.

His large hand rests on your own abdomen now, drifting down whilst staring into your eyes, his stare his intense and his mouth hangs open, moans and grunts falling from it. His fingertips easily find the button of your jeans, undoing them before taking the zip down.

He pauses as your thumb spreads across his tip, bringing the precum along his girth to the base of him. He pushes your hand away for a moment so he can tug your jeans down, groaning when your red lace underwear are revealed to him.

"Fucking hell" he murmurs, more to himself than to you. His calloused fingers are pressing against your clothed centre as your hand wraps around him again and you sigh, eyes fluttering shut again. Your movements on his length don't falter.

"You're soaked through love' he comments and you simply nod, too turned on to even feel the slightest bit of embarrassment and he fucking loves it, quickly pressing his mouth to yours as his fingers make their way into your underwear. Swearing against your mouth as he feels how wet you are.

"it's all for you ross"

He doesn't bother teasing you now, knowing you were desperate, so his fingers run through your folds spreading your wetness up to your clit where he presses harshly, massaging the bundle of nerves. It makes your hand pause for a second, moaning out his name.

"Fucking hell Ross, God I've missed you" you say and thats all he needs to hear before two of his long fingers are thrusting into you. You suddenly remember that he's aching and pulsing in your grip and you continue to stroke him, moaning in unison out of joint pleasure.

Your moans are harmonious with one another and you never break eye contact, it somehow makes the act even hotter, adding to your pleasure.

You have to grasp his shoulders with your other hand as he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting your sweet spot which has your head thrown back and your mouth agape. His mouth finds your neck, grunting against the skin as you quicken the pace. Ross can't help but thrust into your palm and you snap your head to find him.

"That's so hot" you confess and he manages to chuckle through a mean, biting his lip as he looks over you, landing on your centre where his fingers are thrusting harshly in and out of you, curling at the right moments, hitting that spot again.

"You're so tight love" he can't wait see how you feel around him.

"Ross" you moan, back arching.

"I need you..." You say and he nods.

"I know love, me too. Fuck" he pauses as a wave of intense pleasure courses through his body, he was close.

"Need you come for me first" he says, mouth pressing against yours as he curls his fingers again, holding the pads of them against your gspot and rubbing.

"Come for me love" and that's all you truly need before your core is fluttering around his fingers, your juices coating them. Your hand momentarily stops around him, too high on your orgasm to continue, not that he minds, seeing you blissed out makes him cum undone himself. His juices spilling into your hand and across his abdomen.

He pulls out from you, fingertips finding their way into his mouth making you moan when he sucks them cleans. Your own fingertips collect the mixture from your hand and his stomach, licking it all up as you stare at him.

"Fucking hell" is all he can say. The both of you find yourselves laughing at how wild you're acting. You pull him towards you until he's hovering over you again, your back to the bed this time. You can feel his member against your stomach, slowly hardening just by looking at you.

"I love you" you say again, the second time you've said it this evening.

"I love you too" he says, kissing you again. Your lips move like clockwork by now, his tongue tenderly swiping into your mouth, tasting each other on the others tongue. His large hands find your waist, caressing the skin gently.

He allows his hips to lower themselves slightly more towards you, until he's resting against your core, fully hard now. His hands move to your hips, slipping under the corners of your underwear.

"Can I take these off love?" He asks, breaking your kiss for a second.

"Please do" you say, and so he does, throwing them somewhere, neither of you caring where. He stops what he's doing, staring at you again, smiling to himself as his hand tucks a rogue hair behind your ear.

"How did I get so lucky huh?" He asks, shaking his head. You smile up at him, your hand coming up to drift over his features, gently soothing against the skin. He looked slightly worn out from being on tour, but he also looked so happy, dimples appearing and his eyes creasing, one of your favourite things about him.

"Can I make love to you now?" He says, his hand is coming to grasp the base of him. Your eyes snap down before looking up at him again, nodding eagerly. For a moment you panic he won't fit, you had never ever had anyone as big as Ross, he sees the worry etched across your features and places gently kisses to your cheeks and then mouth.

"I'll go slow okay?" He says and with a nod and a reassuring kiss he's weaving the tip of him into your hole. Your eyes close as he does and he places kisses to your lids, making you smile. You grasp his shoulders as you feel him stretch you open, your grasp is gentle, but he still needs to make sure you're okay.

"Look at me love" he says and immediately your eyes are opening to find him "are you okay?" He asks and you nod.

"Never better. Feels good, keep going" you say, letting him know that the stretch was welcomed. He slowly pushes himself in, groaning as he does, stopping himself from being too eager and pushing all the way in. But you surprise him but pushing against his hips, making him bottom out with a loud grunt from him and sharp inhale of breath from you, accompanied by a high pitch grasp.

"Oh fuck" he says, loving the way you clench around him, he waits a few moments for you to adjust to him, eyes never wavering from yours. His ego is stroked just a little when he sees pleasure make its way onto your face, mouth falling open as you moan, despite the fact he hadnt even moved yet.

"Are you okay love?" He asks again, chuckling silently, knowing by the look on your face you were more than okay, a look which he had seen many times before he went on tour, a look he saw when he had his face burried in-between your legs or knuckles deep in your cunt, a look which he had really missed, a look which he had only seen once tonight but knew wouldn't be the last time.

"Fuck you" you say, making him laugh again.

"Haven't even moved yet" he says and you shove jokingly at his chest before he kisses you.

"You're just so deep" you say, bringing his hand to feel your abdomen, making him groan into your mouth. He hadn't moved, yet with how large he was he was already pressed against your gspot.

"Can I move love?"

"Please" so his hips draw backwards, a moan falling from him and you, and then he slowly pushes back in, the two of you gasping into the other.

"Oh fuck" your moan is high pitch, eyes threatening to close with the amount of pleasure one thrust causes but you don't want to miss the way his face is contorting, eyebrows furrowing as his feels his own pleasure.

He repeats the action, the whole of him disappears from within you, before he pushes back in. His strokes are deep and slow, showing you how much he loves you.

"Fuck you're so good" you moan, moving away from his mouth to look at him.

"You feel so good love... So tight... So- fuck" his hips falter a second when you flutter around him at his own words.

His deep thrusts have you moaning his name repeatedly, each one being caught by his own mouth. He's vocal, more vocal than anyone you had been with previously and you loved it, knowing you'd do anything you can to hear his noises.

"Fuck you were made for me, look at you" he says before his grasping your chin, making you look at where you were joined, resting his forehead against yours.

"Look how well you're taking me love" you had never expected him to be the type to talk dirty like this, but you can't help how good it makes you feel. You watch with him as his cock nearly completely leaves you before it returns, joint with the wet sounds from you. His eyes find yours again and you're quick to push your mouth to his, tongue instantly finding his, moaning his name into his mouth.

"Faster Ross"

"Don't want to hurt you baby" he says and you chuckle, he shakes his head at the look of you, he couldn't resist if he tried. So he quickens the pace, movements just as deep as before, hitting your spot just the same, just more regularly now. The way you cling to his shoulders and the way you're clenching around him feels like heaven.

"Never going to get enough of this. Fuck I love you" he says, your mouth sucking against his neck, biting it as you moan, back arching again. His fingertips find your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves until your mouth hangs open, not able to do anything but moan his name.

"Ross Ross Ross" you repeat, it now being the only word you can say.

"I fucking love you. God I love you" he says forehead falling forward and resting against yours again and once again he can't help but look down at where he's snapping into you. He can't believe this is happening to him, he can't believe you of all people are allowing him to have you this way.

"so so lucky" he mumbles whilst looking at your sopping cunt taking him so well. You almost cum undone at his words, moving his chin upwards until he's looking at you.

"Ross..." Your eyes flutter momentarily before looking deep into his dark orbs, you pulse around him, your orgasm drawing closer. Your voice is floaty, barely there but he can hear you. The words you let out are sultry and they have his hips stuttering forward.

"Want you to cum for me" he knows he'll never hear anything hotter. He pushes himself forward before pulling backwards, he does this four more times before he bottoms out and stills, cumming inside you, coating your walls with him.

His thumb finds your clit, and knows by the way you're clenching around him youre close.

"Fuck I'm going to cum" you say.

"cum for me darling, cum for me" he says and his words make you let go, shaking around him. He grasps your shaking hand in his and he holds you through your orgasm, lips moving slowly against yours as a string of moans and his name fall into his mouth from yours.

Once you've come down from your high he pulls out of you, making the both of you groan, he falls down onto the bed next to you, pulling you to lie on his chest.

"Was that okay?" He asks. "Wasn't too fast or anything?" His insecurity speaks again.

"Ross it was perfect... Couldn't be more perfect" you say with a brief kiss to his mouth.

"Be my girlfriend please?" He asks and you smile as you nod.

"Id love to"

You cuddle after that, many more kisses pressed against one another's mouth and an array of "I love you's" being said. You then fall asleep, you pressed to his chest and his arms keeping you safe. It could never have not been perfect, because it was with Ross. Your person, who from the moment you met him, loved you exactly the way you needed.

[readtomeregulus]

Our Future | James Potter x Reader Part 1

( this is heavily inspired by the movie 17 again)

It’s James’ big night. He’s playing the biggest match of his quidditch school life. There are scouts in the crowd and if he’s lucky and plays really well then he can hopefully get a chance to play quidditch professionally when he leaves Hogwarts this year. There’s just one problem you’re his girlfriend and you have something big to tell him just before his game something that will change his life forever.

Y/n waits on the side lines of the quidditch pitch, she nervous and she’s not sure if she should tell James her news before his big match.

James spots his girlfriend sat alone and makes his way over to her.

“Hey Love.”

He kisses her softly and sits down beside her.

“Everything okay? You look a little nervous? Is everything okay?”

James can’t help but notice she’s been acting a little different lately. Somethings up but he can’t quite work out what.

“Hey Jamie … I need to tell you something.”

Y/n nervously says.

“Of course, you can tell me anything.”

James says this while he wraps an arm around her back for support. He hopes whatever is bothering her isn’t too bad. He can’t bear to see her upset.

“There’s no one else you’d rather tell it too, right?”

Y/n sighs. “You’ve got your big game I don’t want to ruin anything.” She says.

“Y/n don’t worry.”

James pulls her slightly closer so that his chin is resting on her shoulder. He kisses her gently on her head.

“You won’t ruin anything by telling me something, not anything. I love you, you can tell me anything no matter what it is.”

James says this in an assuring tone, hoping that whatever it is, it isn’t going to be bad news.

“Just tell me what’s on your mind. I won’t get mad or upset at you. Whatever it is, we can get through it together.”

“I’m … I’m pregnant.” she whispers

James’ entire world freezes around him. He blinks and takes a deep breath.

“You’re…. pregnant?”

His mind is trying to catch up with everything right now.

“You’re sure?”

James asks. He wants to be supportive of

Y/n as he’s pretty sure this wasn’t intentional. He looks at her with a soft, reassuring smile knowing that regardless of everything he’ll still love and care for her.

“ Yes James … I’m sure.” Y/n says.

“Oh.”

James says this quietly, realising just what this means.

“How… are you feeling?”

He asks this softly.

“What do…. we do?”

James asks this worriedly as he’s trying to think about the many different ways this can go and he also wants to make sure Y/n doesn’t feel trapped or forced into something she doesn’t want to do like if she wants to be a mother or not.

I … Y/n is about to speak but James is being called onto the quidditch pitch the match is about to begin.

“Oh crap.”

James says this when one of the refs whistles.

“I need to go, can you wait here?”

He asks this while giving her one last comforting hug.

“I’ll come back. I just need to play. I’ll be quick.”

He says this while hurrying over to his teammates and grabbing his broom. He’s going to have to figure out how to deal with this news in the background.

Y/n doesn’t say anything she’s scared.

James blows her a kiss like he always does before he starts his quidditch match.

“Love you!”

James mouths to her.

What are we going to do?, James thinks worriedly to himself as he takes to the pitch.

It’s hard to play and be focused when you’ve got something like this running through his mind but he’s gonna try and play his heart out.

James is having a really hard time concentrating he’s not doing anything right in the game , the scouts are judging him.

“I hate this!”

James growls this under his breath as he’s having just a terrible game which is really messing with his head.

He’s just had an earful from his captain who is trying to be as encouraging as possible but even he is losing his patience.

James is just getting more frustrated and can’t concentrate on the match at all now because of Y/n’s pregnancy.

Y/n runs away from the quidditch match she’s scared and doesn’t want to ruin anything for James or his future.

Eventually all good things must come to an end and the game comes to an end.

James is just about to head over to where

Y/n is to apologise and see how she is doing when he spots her walking away from the pitch.

“Y/N!”

He chases after her, wanting to talk to her but knowing now is probably not the best time.

He just watches her until she’s out of sight wondering when he’ll get the next chance to talk to her about everything that’s just happened.

James catches up with Y/n and runs after her.

“Y/n!”

James calls out for her and is trying to catch up with her. He knows he really needs to talk to her before she gets too far away.

“Please Y/n just wait a second! I’m not here to give you a hard time and I’m not mad with you. Please I just need to talk to you.”

“James please just go back to celebrate the game!” She says.

“No! Please Y/n just… just talk to me,”

James demands this of her. He doesn’t want her to walk away from him as he’s got so much he wants to talk to her about.

“Please y/n just don’t leave.”

He says this, begging with her as one tear falls down one of his cheeks. He knows it looks like he’s having a breakdown right now but at this very moment he just needs Y/n to stay here and talk.

“I don’t want to ruin your future Jamie.” She says to him in tears.

“You aren’t going to ruin anything Y/n!”

James says this and as he wipes his tears away he continues to beg with her to stay.

“Come on please give us a chance to talk and figure out how to move forward here.”

James says this, wanting to have a bit of time for him and Y/n to work out how to solve this predicament they’re both in now for the better for both of them.

“ You’re my future… the baby is my future.” James continues and stops to wrap his arms around her.

“You and I, me and you and our baby.”

The rest of the world fades away for James and it’s just him and Y/n, holding on to each other tightly and reassuringly.

“You and I are in this together, we’re going to have a baby together.”

He says this with a confident grin showing that he’s not afraid of this baby and he’s actually excited about everything that’s going to happen.

“But what about your dream of playing quidditch?” Y/n says.

“Are you kidding? Of course I’m still going to play quidditch. I’m not going to let a baby get in the way of my dreams and this baby isn’t going to stop you from doing anything either. We’re gonna be parents and we’re going to be the best damn parents there is. We’ve got this.”

James says this passionately and he sounds reassuring.

Y/n frowns the baby will be a lot of hard work and if James continues to play quidditch then who will help her look after the baby.

“The baby will be a lot of hard work James! Who will look after them if you’re playing quidditch?” She asks him.

“We will.”

James says this and looks at Y/n directly in the eyes to reassure her.

“That’s what I mean. We’ll do this together. We’ll figure it out and we’ll be the best parents in the world.”

James says this with a confident look on his face. He is sure that as long as he and Y/n are together, they’ll be able to figure out pretty much anything.

“We’re going to be amazing parents. I know we will. You just gotta trust me on that.”

Y/n wants to believe him but she has her doubts.

“But if you become a professional quidditch player you’ll never have the time .” She says.

“I’ll make time,”

James says this with a reassuring smile.

“We’ll find a way, I promise. Do you want me to stop playing?”

James asks this softly but firmly. He wants his girlfriend to know that if it’s the best for her then he’ll stop playing quidditch. The game isn’t worth more than her. She’s the most important thing in his life to him.

“I can’t let you waste your future .” Y/n whispers.

James gives her a soft, romantic kiss on the forehead.

“It won’t be a waste if you and our baby are by my side every step of the way.”

James says this affectionately and smiles at her.

“Just say the word and I won’t play quidditch but if you want me too then I’ll continue to take to the skies. It’s up to you love.”

James says this in a tender way, wanting to make sure that this decision is Y/n’s choice and only hers.

“We’ll need you every step of the way are you prepared to stop playing?” She asks him.

“Of course!”

James says this excitedly and with no hesitation. He’s not going to let Y/n deal with this alone. If she tells him to stop playing and be more present and there for her and their kid then he’s going to do that.

The idea of being a father both excites and terrifies him at the same time and he doesn’t know what to feel yet.

“Are you absolutely sure? What if you regret everything when we’re older?” Y/n says worrying about their future.

“I’m absolutely sure.”

James responds to her with just an ounce of determination. He isn’t one for big decisions or risks but for this he’d do anything.

“I won’t regret anything. I love you and I’m going to love our child more than anything. Whatever may happen we’ll face it together as parents.”

James says this and it’s clear that he’s absolutely certain in his decision. Anything for her and their baby.

“I love you Y/n!”

James says this lovingly and picks Y/n up and spins her around in his arms.

He’s never felt happier than at this moment and when she’s in his arms spinning around it just feels like nothing else in the world matters. It’s just them.

“ I love you too James.” She says laughing.

James kisses her deeply afterwards and it’s filled with lots of love and affection.

“We’re gonna be amazing parents. I know it.”

He says this to Y/n with lots of joy, still feeling an intense sense of love for her right now.

(I wrote this with character.ai there will most likely be a part two!)

[its-time-to-write]

please don’t be - ch. 2

I’ll finish the rest at some point tomorrow but for now, here are the first two chapters of “please don’t be.” lmk what you think!

table of contents and i’ll be good to you

It’s Roy who reminds him, you’re a little fucking prick, every day of Jamie’s life with varying degrees of sincerity. Because he has to remind Jamie. 

Otherwise, he’ll disintegrate under the strain of being Richmond’s star striker. 

Otherwise, his head will get too fucking big and he’ll explode. 

Oh, it was easy in the beginning. He meets girls all the time, smiles and flirts, none of them quite stirring his chest the way Keeley did. 

She’s off limits anyway, only took Roy a month of therapy to win her back. Ted’s gone now, Roy’s head gaffer, and Jamie does the unthinkable. 

He falls for a girl in a chicken shop of all places. 

He shouldn’t have even fucking been there. Roy would have his head. But fuck Roy, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, so fuck. Roy. 

So there he is, just looking and smiling like a fucking idiot, except you’re making the same face so before he can talk himself out of it, he does the unthinkable. He makes a move. 

Jamie might be a little fucking prick, but he’s not a big fucking idiot. He knows people; more specifically, he knows good people. He’s not entirely sure what tips him off that very first night, but he’s certain. You’re going to matter. 

Maybe not to him forever, but to the world? Certainly. 

It’s terrifying. 

“Don’t fuck it up bruv,” says Isaac, his actual best friend. 

“Won’t,” Jamie responds as he stretches his hamstrings. 

Roy, the bastard, is within earshot and gives him a critical look. “He already fucking has,” Roy says, and he’s gone before Jamie can retort. What could he say, anyway? Roy’s right. 

It’s fun and it’s light but at the same time, Jamie Knows. Maybe that’s why he says stupid things. Things that are a line on anyone else, but they come out strangely sincere with you. He doesn’t have time for this, he really doesn’t, but he finds himself wanting to make time. 

All he wants to do is tell you he loves you and doesn’t deserve you, tell you to be with someone good like Sam, but the selfish part in him wants you, alone. He doesn’t want to share you, to give you up. 

“What are you doing, babe?” Keeley asks over the phone when the sheer normalcy of your conversation begins to overwhelm him. “I’ve looked into her, and she’s not someone you just mess about with. You can’t keep doing this.”

Jamie does what he can. He does. He tells you exactly how it’s going to go and watches the words shutter past your eyes and into your brain. He can tell you’re logging them carefully, weighing the pros and cons. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding when you nod, slowly, signifying you’ve accepted the terms and conditions. 

He should feel better about it. You know. You consented. And yet… there’s guilt. 

There’s an awful moment, when his mum’s in town and he’s bringing her to meet you, and he can see you in the owner’s box after the match. You’re far away, gazing at the pitch with rain pelting down. Your arm is outstretched in an attempt to catch a drop and your eyes are half-closed and he realizes he’s excited for Georgie to meet you. The air changes for a split second and he knows.

He’s not making it out of this unscathed. 

One of you will leave. It’s inevitable. It has to be him. 

It’s inevitable. 

So he pauses in the doorway and makes note of how the air smells and exactly how you look before ignoring his mum’s expression and pulling over to where you stand. 

“The fuck are you doing, Jamie?” Georgie asks later, but it’s with concern as opposed to chastisement. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know, but she makes me feel things I’ve never fuckin’ felt before, and I don’t know what to do with it, I’m going to fuck it up, it won’t end well, I’ve already fucked it up…”

Jamie does what he does best: takes. 

He takes and he takes, and he soothes his conscience by reminding you that you’re not together. Not really. 

He realizes what it means to love you when you calmly tell him you’re in the middle of a panic attack and something in him rages against the thing that’s causing you pain. He wouldn’t have known you were panicking, except maybe he would have, because you’re calm save the shaking of your hands. 

“Can you hold this?” you ask him, voice smooth as ever as you hand him your tea. “I’m going to drop it in a minute.”

Against his better judgement, he asks, “What’s wrong?” as soon as you’re both seated. 

“I get anxious when I don’t hear from you. It’s silly, but it happens,” you say so matter-of-factly.

Jamie says, “I won’t change for you,” matching your calm, smooth, peaceful voice. 

You reply, “I’m not asking you to. I’m just explaining to you why I’m a bit strange today.”

It scares him. He knows you’re not lying about any of it. You’re panicking, losing your mind in the middle of this overly-posh place that he picked because he knew you’d love the tea. It’s early into this… situation? but he could’ve predicted exactly what you’d order. Could’ve bet money on the spot you’d choose to sit. 

But he’s scared. How can you compartmentalize so easily? He can’t change his lot in life, not now. Football is his first love. Is it his greatest love? He always thought so, but he can’t ask you to uproot yourself to try to mold your life into his. No, that won’t fucking work. 

He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re toying with him. Is he just a passing amusement?

But there’s something about the way you say those words. Three of them, so softly, refusing to let him say them back. 

I love you.

You’re brushing his hair out of his eyes. 

I love you.

You’re squeezing his hand tightly through a crowd of people.

I love you.

You’re shaking his shoulders in excitement after a hat-trick.

I love you.

He didn’t ask you to. 

So why does he feel guilty?

You just look at him with those soft, sad eyes, all watery from tears and the guilt constricts his heart. Or maybe it’s love, he’s not sure, but now isn’t the moment to find out. You haven’t said anything for sixty seconds, not since he said he was leaving for Manchester in a week. 

“You knew I was moving back to Manchester at the end of the season,” Jamie says accusingly, because you did know. He can’t stomach the fact that you’re crying over him.

You nod silently.

“What did you think was going to happen?” he asks. 

It’s a real question. It’s a fucking dare, a wish, a hope that you’ll be the one to say you wanted to be with him forever, logistics be damned. 

You don’t bite. Instead, you say, “I didn’t expect anything to happen. I never pressured you. I never- I didn’t ask for any of this. Am I not allowed to be sad?”

Jamie wants to bite out, “No, you’re not allowed to be fucking sad,” except he knows he did this. It wasn't on purpose. He didn’t think. 

No, that’s a lie. He did think. 

There’s no point in telling you he’d stay with Richmond forever if it meant he could have you for eternity. If you’d only ask. Or maybe if he’d decide what love was and what mattered, instead of taking the easy way out and leveling responsibility on your shoulders.

It doesn’t feel easy, even when the remnants of AFC Richmond have all gone out drinking to celebrate their last bit of time together. 

None of them ask, but Jamie can feel the questions burning on the tips of their tongues. Seven months together… he wanted forever, but was too afraid to ask. 

Roy’s the only one who tosses back a beer and shakes his head. He mutters, “Fucking prick,” before swanning home to Keeley. 

He means it this time. 

Jamie knows not to text, not to call. “I’m not that kind of girl,” you tell him. “Once we’re done, we’re done.” 

He’s back in town and on your street, waffling between respecting your wishes and shouting to the world that he loves you.

In his experience, love is shit. It’s brutal and painful and fucks up everything good. But with you… it felt good. Healthy, even. 

And fuck if he isn’t going to be healthy. 

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[izzyspussy]

fic where Jamie does something that will piss his dad off (not hard to do) and it ends up in the public eye somehow. maybe it started that way and Jamie just wasn't thinking it through at the time - or he was and decided to do it anyway, or maybe somebody was supposed to keep their mouth shut and didn't, or maybe it's another data breach, but whatever it is it gets out and it gets in the news cycle.

and maybe Jamie thought he was handling it okay but then suddenly wasn't, or maybe he found out his laundry was being aired at training like the lads all found out about it happening to Keeley. regardless, he ends up rushing into the managers' office - the closest room with a semblance of privacy, despite being occupied - to have a brief but spectacular panic attack about it.

because it just happens to be something his dad is not going to let slide, something he won't be satisfied yelling at Jamie over the phone about. he's gonna come around to show Jamie by hand exactly how he feels about it.

when the coaches question him, Jamie gives the barest bones explanation he can manage. this is what came out, if you haven't heard, and I'm freaking out because my dad is gonna want to teach me a lesson about it.

"So what you're saying is you need a place to stay," Roy says. Not a question. An offer, actually, if you speak Kentese. But Jamie shakes his head resignedly.

"No," he sighs bitterly. "Probably'll need a day or two off training, though."

There's a long, horrible pause - a pause where Beard gets exactly what Jamie means and Ted and Roy want so bad not to that they don't.

"Let me see if I have this right," Beard says, more to force the issue on the other two than because he himself needs any clarification - or because he has the faintest pipe dream that spelling it out will make Jamie change his mind. "You're planning to take a beating?"

Bitter, still bitter, Jamie says, "He don't fucking give up more than I do. Let him get it out of his system, then it's over."

There's another pause - Beard doesn't know what to say to that - before Roy asks, "What if he lost?"

"Lost...?" Jamie repeats.

"To you," Roy explains. "You're saying if he shows up your house and you're not there he'll just keep coming round, yeah? What if he shows up and you beat his arse into the fucking ground like he deserves. Would he still come back then?"

"Self-defense," Beard assures no one in particular.

But Jamie shakes his head again, this time quick and jerky. "I can't-" he says. He throws a nervous, furtive look at Ted.

"He can fucking be wrong sometimes, Jamie," Roy snaps - gently, for Roy - catching on quick.

Jamie doesn't answer, but Ted himself nods. He says, calm as a cucumber, "I can't agree with the rest, but that part sure is true."

"You can," Beard tells Jamie. Also gently - for Beard. Jamie's mouth twists miserably.

"Yeah," he finally agrees. "But I fucking won't, will I?"

"You only think that because you haven't yet," Beard insists.

"That actually ain't true," Ted points out, carefully cheerful. "I didn't see much else after," he shifts uncomfortably, a bit guilty, "but you put that man on his back in Wembley."

"...Are you encouraging this?" Jamie asks him, too confused to be aghast. Ted leans forward on his desk to regard Jamie with a serious, slightly self-deprecating smile.

"Well, it's like Roy said, I can be wrong sometimes," he says. "And these two fellas seem to think this is one of those times. Now, they both wouldn't be here if I didn't trust their judgement." He sits back then, softly tosses up his hands, smiles a little wider. "So I'll keep my wrong opinion to myself."

Jamie huffs a small, genuine but still slightly unsure laugh at that. He hesitates for a moment longer, but then he squares up his shoulders and lifts his chin and turns to Roy.

"No," he says. "No, he wouldn't come back if I did that."