tartt9

[tartt9]

There's a bright laugh that comes from Jamie at Dani's words, one hand coming up to grab at his striker's arm before he dips back down into proper stretching form. "I've seen the way you play for Mexico, y'know," he says, turning his head so he can look at Dani even as they both stretch to the same side. He watches all of his teammates' international matches. Even when it means staying up 'til ungodly hours to watch Dani playing 9 hours behind the timezone they live in. [ or he'll just record the match and watch it back later, but he always watches before returning to Nelson Road from St. George's Park. ] "Like a switch flips in you. That's me, but it's against these red bastards." Gesturing with one finger at the stadium around them, he shakes his head. "It's like the hatred's in my bones."

YES, HE GOT HIM. Dani found him hilarious, actually. The way Jamie described things always amused him. Extending his legs fully in the stretch, he grinned. “Well… I do not want them dead. ONLY HOSPITALIZED.” His muscles were straining under the effort of his stretch; Dani never half-assed anything in life. After a moment, he switched to the other side, unintentionally copying Jamie without even noticing.

[tartt9]

starter call !! multis please specify <3

[tartt9]

Her touch, like her words, is like ice after a long training session. Jamie can almost feel the weight easing off of him, can feel himself coming back to reality again. It's grounding. It's nice. "Y'mean that...?" he asks, his voice gentler than it might be with most people. "I mean- ob- obviously, yeah. Yeah, I wanna be here for you, too, obviously." Jamie is self-aware, he realises that he gets all... stuttery around her. Like he's back in school and he's got a crush on the prettiest girl in his year... well, he does have a crush on her. He's had a crush on her for years. Over a decade, probably. Weird, that, how time seems to move. It's like all of his actual problems have disappeared from his mind; he's really just trying to impress her, now.

“I DON’T KNOW. I just…” And here’s where she hesitated, because she didn’t want to say anything she’d regret later, but she knew that men (especially footballers) were often taught to KEEP IT ALL IN. Never let it show. And she didn’t want to say it, but the environment he’d grown up in probably hadn’t helped. She probably knew more than she should.

“I just want you to know you don’t have to HIDE it,” she finally finished, a hand coming up to rest gently on top of his shoulder. “Not from me. I… I wanna be HERE for you, is all.”

[tartt9]

if we ignore all the stuff that's gone wrong ive kind of had nothing but wins

[tartt9]

Thank every god that's ever existed for FaceTime and the ability to see Jon's face on a daily basis even when Jamie's in the North and Jon's stuck down in London. He's also grateful for the advent of cars, though he loathes driving long distances himself [ he'd much rather take the train ] – Jon's willing to drive where Jamie isn't, and besides, Jamie's new, fancy penthouse is worth the drive, worth the views, in his opinion. Either Jon agrees with him, or he believes [ correctly ] that Jamie alone is worth the trip up; either way, he gets to see Jon, and that's a fucking delight.

"How long's this fucking audiobook, then? If you're just getting through it?" Jamie quite likes audiobooks, too, but he leaves most of them to Jon to read first, because if Jon thinks it's shite, Jamie'll probably have a similar opinion, and it's best not to waste his time by disregarding Jon's opinions on a book. "Fuck off, I ain't been chasing my tail." He has been, though. All but skipping around the training ground, jumping on his teammates, doing a lap around the neighbourhood as he waited for Jon's arrival. "I'm glad you're here, 's all. Glad I get you to myself for a few days."

his hands brush up jamie's thighs instinctively, already more relaxed with him on top of him, thumbs rubbing circles as he grins at jamie, head shaking a little as he goes back to the kissing, the biting - little shit. jon's grin is wide, his chest heaves with a brief chuckle, "hello." he replies, a hand brushing through jamie's hair. he's missed him, had been looking forward to this for days now, practically skipped to his car - he had no intention of letting this distance strain their relationship.

"drive's bloody boring, yeah. but i'm gettin' through my audiobook so.. well it ain't all that bad. worth it, i guess." he teases, "how's your day been, babe? distracted, no doubt -- chasin' your tail thinkin' about seeing me, yeah?"

[tartt9]

Filled with cream? He's not unconvinced that this isn't a homophobic jab, but he's not about to call Colin to ask him if twinkie is a slur. He's got access to the internet, he can Google it himself. His head tilts to the side slightly, considering what Ted's told him. "It's American-sweet?" As in, far too sweet for Jamie's regular taste. "Dunno if Roy would let me have one. I haven't had a beer in months 'cus of all of the calories. Roy says I can't have 'em anymore. But I'd try it. If you don't tell Roy."

HIS CONFUSION WAS ENDEARING, and Ted allowed himself to smile— not in a mocking way, but in a very mildly amused way. “It’s this sweet dessert kinda thing. Little cake filled with cream.” He held up his hand to try and show Jamie the size. “VERY POPULAR in America. Hey, next time I go back to visit, I’ll bring you some.”

[tartt9]

There are plenty of positives to going back to City. He wouldn't have done it if it didn't mean something to him. If he didn't believe he could do it, even with the ghosts that haunt the streets of his beloved home, he'd still be in London, in a house he technically still has a set of keys to [ though he'd never walk in without announcing himself to Tanya beforehand, god only knows what he'd walk into if he tried ]. The downside, though, is being four fucking hours away from Jon. The fuck's he supposed to do, wait for international break to roll around and force them together? No. That's fucking stupid. At least Jon's willing to make the drive up to him.

When Jon steps off of the lift, Jamie's already got the door open for him. He pushes it shut with his heel and pulls him inside, immediately kissing him, then kissing down his neck [ easier, he doesn't have to practically be on tiptoes for that ]. He follows where Jon leads him, finding himself sat on his lap. "Mm, shame, ain't it..." Jamie mumbles, but he keeps kissing his neck, biting his shoulder gently, then pulling back to look at him. "Hello," he finally says, a cheeky grin on his face, "how are you? How was the drive? Y'die of boredom yet?"

@tartt9 asked [ neck ] a kiss or gentle sucking on the partner's neck.

it's not the easiest, living a four hour drive from the man you love, but jon was never going to let that stop him, he'd made that abundantly clear when he'd been helping jamie pack up his life (and then, later on, helping tanya unpack hers into the same space - he'd promised jamie he'd look after her).

the drive was easy by now, he knew it mostly like the back of his hand, which is why when he's there at jamie's doorstep, he's not half as tired as he had been the first few times. jamie, of course, wasted little time letting jon know how missed he was, his lips leaving his own to trail down jon's neck as the taller leads them to the sofa, grinning away, "whatever happened to hello?" he laughs, "how are you?" he pulls jamie into his lap, fingers stroking through his hair, "you're going to draw blood in a minute, babe."

[tartt9]

The way she says his name feels like lotion on a burn. She's always made him feel better... just being in her presence makes him feel like there's a weight off of his shoulders. Is that awful of him? Is he putting too much pressure on her to take that pressure off of him? See, he's overthinking again. And overthinking means he has a lot weighing him down, which means Keeley's right. Keeley's always right. "Yeah. Yeah, I mean, obviously. Feeling stuff's normal. Yeah." She makes him feel stuff. Stuttering and nervous and like he's got butterflies in his stomach like he's some teenage girl. She drives him mad. She has since the start. Since before the start, really. "Why d'you ask...?"

“JAMIE…” Maybe she shouldn’t be concerned about him; maybe she had no reason to be, but she couldn’t help it sometimes; she needed to be there for someone, and it should be Jamie, right? “I’m glad you’re doing better… but it’s OKAY to still feel things sometimes. You know that, don’t you?”

[tartt9]

"It does. It does encourage me," Jamie replies, bending down to stretch out his hamstrings. He hates these bastards. "Well, yeah, obviously we'll be fine, but I want them t'be... y'know. The opposite of fine. I want them to be dead. I want them t'be so dead that playing in Europe's something that only, like... old granddads can talk about when they're thinking back t'when this club was good. Y'get me?" He looks over at Dani, straightening up and then bending to the other side, palms pressed flat to the grass.

DANI FLASHED JAMIE A SMILE, somewhere between amused and empathetic. “It could be. If it encourages you,” he answered, clapping his teammate on the back just once before resuming his usual stretches. That smile didn’t fade, even when Dani felt his muscles screaming. No need to freak out before a match, especially against United, right? “We will be fine. You know this.”

[tartt9]

"First of all, I'm gonna do it on Saturday," Jamie says, pointing a finger at Roy as he walks across the pitch towards his side. His eyes are still scanning for the media team, giving them searching thumbs ups. "Y'got that?" he asks, pointing at one still looking at his camera, smiling brightly as he stops next to Roy, bumping his shoulder against his coach's. "They got it, they'll text the clips t'me later." He pushes his sweaty hair back from his face, adjusts his headband. "I ain't allat concerned, y'know, 'cus I know I can do it on Saturday. It's just not my job, most of the time. Got Dani for that, don't we." He's not expecting praise from Roy, but it would be nice, wouldn't it. He'll get it someday, he's sure of that.

@tartt9 asked: please tell me someone filmed that. (for roy!)

FUCKING IDIOT was more concerned about someone having footage of his stupid fucking hat trick during training than the actual hat trick itself. Roy forced his jaw to clench, hiding any potential awe behind his usual gruffness, arms folded over his chest. “You want it filmed, Tartt? DO IT ON SATURDAY.” No need to praise the prick; that was Lasso’s job. If Jamie could pull that shit off in a REAL match, maybe he’d reconsider. Maybe.

[tartt9]

There's nothing like the honour of playing for your national team. Ever since he was a little boy, Jamie dreamed of having those Three Lions on his chest, and every time he gets that call shortly before international break, it still sends a jolt of lightning through him like his first call up did.

Jamie understands the draw, now, for Sam; he knows as well as anyone who's shared a dressing room with Sam how badly Sam's wanted to play for the Super Eagles. That framed photo of their 1994 World Cup team - from before either Sam or Jamie were even born - has practically been as much a staple in their dressing room as anything. He could've [ would've; there's no point in thinking in hypotheticals ] gotten that call if he'd stayed at Richmond another season, but...

There's the draw of the boyhood club. Jamie also knows that, before he retires, he'll be back up North, back in sky blue, playing at least a handful of final games at the club that first gave him the chance to live his dreams. And that's what Sam's doing now. "Bit young t'be making this move, ain't you, lad...?" There's sadness in Jamie's voice despite the proud smile on his face.

The most expensive transfer in NPFL history. That's his Sam. He hooks his hands around Sam's shoulder, a familiar position now. "Course I do, yeah. Obviously. I mean, it's- it's fucking easy, innit, t'follow me? Make enough fucking noise myself, don't I." He's trying to lighten the mood. He doesn't think it's really working. Not for himself, at least. What's he to do without Sam at Richmond?

"I'd better see you at the World Cup, then." He jabs a finger into Sam's chest, straightening his spine, pushing his shoulders back, trying to be tough. "'Cus if I don't, I've got, like, a million angry tweets t'write."

@tartt9 asked: i always knew you could do it. (for sam!)

HE ALWAYS KNEW. Sam grinned a little at the thought. Jamie wouldn’t have said so unless he really meant it. But the moment was bittersweet, knowing he was LEAVING. Leaving Richmond.

He’d always wanted to play for a Nigerian team, to represent his country, to wear their colors on his chest. And yet, Richmond really WAS like a second home to him. He knew he’d always be welcomed back; there wasn’t a doubt in his mind. But leaving Richmond… leaving England… leaving the restaurant… leaving the team…

Leaving Jamie…

Swallowing any remaining sadness, Sam chose to embrace the compliment, tossing an arm around Jamie’s shoulders. “Thank you.” Such a simple thing to say, but what else WAS there? “And you know I will always cheer for you, right?”

Not just for Richmond. For Jamie.

[tartt9]

leslie higgins gender envy was not on my 2025 bingo board but here we are i guess

[tartt9]

still don't trust me?

"Mate," Jamie says, slightly out of breath as he reaches for his water bottle, "every time y'try t'get me t'do something, I either end up being sick or end up in some," he takes a sip of the water, "medieval torture situation involving my dick. Sorry if I ain't all, oh, yeah, Coach, lemme take off m'shorts right now-"

@fantasywritten's roy from here !

[tartt9]

what is your play here, really?

"Can I...?" Jamie asks, pointing at the whiteboard with the magnets arranged in their typical lineup. He approaches, takes the magnet that typically represents him, and then pushes it back. "Look, if we're playing out from the back, which we should, 'cus it works, I can start back here." He pulls his magnet all the way to the back of the pitch onto the eighteen yard line. "Nobody expects me t'be there, right, they expect Isaac or Jan. But if Z-Man passes t'me, right, we can push Arlo and G down the wings, use 'em as wingbacks, which lets Sam and Colin come in from out wide more. From there, yeah, I'd pass through the back line like normal, but I can get down the pitch dead quick after that, 'cus I'm the fastest one on the team, and if y'get me in the middle, where I like t'be, I can either pass it forward t'Dani, or Dani can draw defenders outta my way, and I can score from there. Or we just keep possession for ages, and that'll wear 'em down, and frustrate 'em, right? That's the play. 'Cus we do need t'break 'em down, or we ain't getting anything outta the game, and I hate nil-nil draws as much as anybody else."

@fantasywritten's nate from here !

[tartt9]

you can't understand america without trying a twinkie.

"Without trying a what...?" Isn't that a slur for gay people? If he called Colin that right now would he get in trouble with Isaac? Would he have to make an apology on social media? Pay a fine to the League? Is this a test? Jamie's brow furrows slightly, lips pursing up as he thinks. "What's that?" He knows people in America are weird, but they aren't that weird, right?

@fantasywritten's ted from here !

[tartt9]

you have a lot weighing you down, don't you?

"Weighing me down? Like what?" It's deflection. He doesn't want Keeley to think he's... well, he's not sure. A burden, maybe? As if she hasn't seen the worst sides of him before. He'd rather not show them to her again, though; he likes to think he's changed. He's definitely less weighed down than he used to be, but is he completely free? Jamie isn't sure... "I'm okay. Better now, I mean. I'm not... drowning."

@fantasywritten's keeley from here !

[tartt9]

think good thoughts.

"Right, yeah, good thoughts..." Jamie jumps up and down, shakes out his wrists, exhales sharply. United haven't been good in years, but every time they play at their collapsing, piece of shit, soon-to-be-replaced-by-a-circus-tent stadium, his nerves pile up in his gut like he's a spring about to be released. He wants to pummel them. He wants them to go home and have to think about shuttering the club based solely on this result. "Is I want to kill them with my bare hands good thoughts, d'you think?"

@fantasywritten's dani from here !