#I’m looking at you Jamie Tartt’s house | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tuesdayiminlove · 17 days ago

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i don't wanna look at anything else (now that i saw you) PART 2/3

where jamie seems to remember everything, and you're just trying to navigate a stitch on your crochet flower (jamie tartt x fem!reader)

part one

A/N: here's part two!!!!! link what yall think, im so grateful for the feedback of the first part, it's super encouraging <33 tysm. also this is NOT proofread oops

word count: 4.5k

When you arrive back inside your home, you’re heavy-breathing with a heartbeat erratic enough for your heart to pop out of your chest. You place your keys down, reaching into your jean pocket for your phone, placing the first call you can manage to muster up.

Stevie is over within minutes, you think you might’ve heard her light jogging over to your house.

Her heavy pants echo the room as she tries to muster up the words. “I just got back from work, and I fucking ran! Tell me the emergency immediately.”

“I don’t even know where to begin!” you say. “I mean, I was trying to make some creamy vegetable soup, but I didn’t even get to chop the tomatoes, Stevie! The fucking tomatoes! I—“

“Okay, begin by getting the point, babe." She walks to your kitchen, you following close behind. It doesn’t come to a surprise that she opens your refrigerator, most likely rummaging for the cucumbers and your chickpea hummus. “I love you, but if this is dire, I’m gonna need to know now.”

You gather your thoughts as Stevie begins to look through your drawers for a knife. How do you even say it simply? “Jamie Tartt thinks I’m his girlfriend.”

Stevie drops the knife.

In any other situation, you would scold her for doing something close to a hazard in the kitchen. But you understand her actions completely. If you were holding a flower pot when finding out this information, you’d drop that shit, too.

“Continue before I absolutely freak the fuck out.”

That’s when you tell her about the call and the trip to the hospital. The words are coming out of your mouth at the speed of light, you’re surprised Stevie is managing to keep up. But she does, quietly chopping her cucumbers and dipping a few into the hummus. This is a more collected look than when she dropped the knife, but you’re sure the gears are turning in her head just as much as they are for you currently.

“I just left his house and I told him I’d be back with—soup!”

You don’t wait to turn the stove back on, shuffling Stevie away from the center of the counter while you go back to cooking.

She says your name slowly, eyes wide. “This is some romcom-movie-shit, babe.”

You fight a roll of your eyes. “This is real life!” you scold. “And the poor boy is concussed, probably mental!”

“Mental for thinking he’s dating you? Have you seen yourself? You’re fucking magnificent.”

“Thanks,” you drawl, not in the mood for a compliment. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s just a bit bonkers right now, and I don’t know what to do!” You stir the pot stressfully, watching the ingredients mix around the broth. You’ve put a bit more ingredients, and added more broth to make sure that the serving is good for two, and for any leftovers Jamie may want. You think you’ll have enough to send Steve home with, as well. “The doctor said not to startle him, but I’m pretty fucking startled. So I don’t know how to not startle him when I’m not in the right state of mind! This feels so stupid.”

“I think you should tell him the truth,” says Stevie. She’s right behind your shoulder, peering over at the pot. She takes a large whiff, and hums. “You making this for him?”

“And for you.” And me!

“Ah,” she says. “I see. A little compensation so I don’t out you to the press, yeah? Nice thinking!”

“Not funny,” you drawl. It was never a thought that crossed your mind that Stevie would go out, telling people of your current entanglement with Jamie. She’s an editor for a magazine company, and she has a problem telling you all the tips she gets about local celebrities, always trusting you not to tell anyone anything. You don’t doubt that she’ll do the same for you. “So I should tell him the truth, then?” you ask, getting back to the main point of Stevie’s visit.

“Mhm,” she replies. “Probably not today though, don’t you think? He’s overwhelmed enough as it is, he’s probably gonna be benched in Richmond’s next couple matches. That sad fuck is probably groveling as we speak. And he can’t even drink to cure the pain! … That’s how concussions work, right?” She shakes her head. “Anyway, don’t do it today. If I were you, I’d play it by ear, you know?”

You nod, having heard all of this from the doctor.

"And one more thing."

Stevie hums in questionn

“… He may have tried to kiss me.”

You think everyone in the neighborhood heard Stevie’s screech when she belts your name.

It’s later in the day when you ring Jamie’s doorbell. You’d successfully shooed Stevie out of your house, convincing her that she does not need to spy on you from your kitchen window in case Jamie tries to make a move (“I’ll be there in two seconds, ready to make that concussion worse. Just say the word.”). And now you have the soup in two tupperware containers, as well some carrots and dip in your tote bag because that’s what Jamie originally always used you for, right? The familiarity will hopefully make him happy.

When he opens the door, you’re not surprised to see all the lights are closed, as well as his curtains shut (so much for Stevie spying). The only thing you see that’s shedding artificial light is the lamp by his staircase, but even that looks as dim as it can be.

“Hey, love,” he says groggily, a certain warmth to it that makes the nickname seem more intimate. He rubs his eyes as he moves to create room for you to come inside. “Sorry I took so long. Took a bit of a nap.”

“Oh,” you frown, concern taking over the nerves of his sudden pet names, “I’m sorry for waking you. I can just drop these off and head out, if you’d prefer?”

Jamie shakes his head. “Don’t be silly. Come in.”

You enter apprehensively, though you’re trying your best to conceal it. This is the second time ever that you are in Jamie’s home. And it’s only been a day. The strangeness of that fact lingers in the air as you close the door behind you.

You trail behind him toward the kitchen, your footsteps quiet against the hardwood floors. Various football plaques litter the walls, as well as many, many photos of Richmond’s team.

“Why don’t you go sit down?” you say as you simultaneously take in his home. “I can prepare these myself and bring them to you.”

“Rubbish," scoffs Jamie, "I’m still mobile, and I’m not leaving my girlfriend to take care of me like you’re some sort of maid. I’m not bedridden.”

The word girlfriend, once again, catches you off guard, and your heart does a funny little stutter. You push it aside. “I just don’t want you to exert yourself,” you reason, brows furrowed. “You’re concussed, Jamie.”

“Who cares about that?” he jokes, waving off your concerns.

Your jaw clenches. You want to say I care. Because this concussion is affecting you more than you fucking know. But you bite your tongue, and instead ask him where he keeps his bowls and silverware.

Minutes later, Jamie and yourself are sitting on his couch. You took the liberty of sitting on the opposite end of his sofa, taking up as little space as possible. You’ve tucked yourself into the far corner, legs curled up slightly, trying to occupy as little room as possible. Jamie, on the other hand, lounges comfortably, his socked feet propped on the edge of the coffee table, though his posture is slightly more relaxed than it was earlier. You’d ask Jamie if it would be okay to crochet while you’re here, mainly so you can have something to do instead of sitting there awkward with today’s events before you.

So, soup now resting on Jamie’s coffee table (you stop every few moments to take a bite), you’re intent on the rose petal you’re making with your yarn. Jamie alternates between eating his soup and watching you, his gaze unashamedly direct, though there’s a softness to it that makes your heart flutter despite yourself.

To anyone else, the scene might look endearingly domestic: the two of you sharing a quiet moment in the living room, him eating soup, you crocheting, the occasional exchange of lighthearted banter. But there’s an underlying element to it. You don’t want to tip-toe around Jamie, because you’re supposed to be acting natural and all, but it’s hard.

“You’re the most thoughtful thing ever, you know that?” he says, after a minute of silence.

Your hands pause mid-stitch, your eyes staying fixed on the delicate yarn in front of you as you decide how to respond, stomach churning nervously. “A ‘thing’?” you joke lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “How very gentlemanly of you.”

“You know what I mean!” chastises Jamie.

Fighting the butterflies in your stomach as his words settle warmly around your heart.

“I do know,” you reply softly, finally glancing up at him. “Why do you say that?”

“The rose you’re knitting—“

“Crocheting.”

“Crocheting. Sorry, love. How many are you making for the old bloke’s grandson?”

The moment you take in Jamie's words, you pause, crochet hook in the air. “What?”

Jamie looks confused. “Mr. Taylor? That his name?”

You shake your head, mind still reeling. “No, I know who you meant. How do you know I’m making this for his grandson?” You don’t recall telling that to Jamie when you initially mentioned what you wanted to do here.

You currently have half of a rose petal done, wanting to make something special for Mr. Taylor grandson—Roman. The young toddler is allergic to flowers, getting all sniffly and itchy when you had brought over a hand-made flower arrangement for the Taylors (it had been their 37th wedding anniversary). But Roman had just kept looking at the flowers with such curiosity, despite his body’s affinity for them. When you had decided to take up crocheting (you wanted to make tiny plant plushies yourself—because why are stuffed plushies with cute faces on them so expensive these days?), one of the first things you learned was to make stuffed flower arrangements, just for when Roman would visit.

How could Jamie possibly know that?

“Because you’re you,” says Jamie. Blush coats over his cheeks lightly when he averts his gaze from hers, hand moving to scratch the back of his head.

“… And," he begins, "one day, I was in me car and I saw you walk over to the Taylors’ house with crochet roses. ‘Made it look like a nice arrangement, too. I wanted to ask you why you had fake flowers when you have fucking millions just in your front yard. Didn’t know if that’d sound weird, though, so…” he trails off, his words getting quieter, “So, I may have asked Mr. Taylor instead.”

You try to recall the memory Jamie spoke of. You do recall the last time you had headed over to the Taylors with the signature bouquet. Jamie had been at the front of his house, getting into his car. Of course she had noticed him immediately, spotting him just by her peripheral vision, but she hadn’t decided to spare him a look until she crossed the street to look back, but he had been preoccupied. She didn’t even think he saw her that day.

That day had been nearly three months ago.

Your mouth falls open. Jamie had noticed and asked about you that long ago?

Jamie glances at you nervously, mistaking your silence for something more negative. “I’m not some creep or anything, promise! I just—I dunno—I was curious! You’re always doing stuff like that.”

You shake your head. “I just never knew you noticed,” you mumble, your nerves growing. Even now, he remembers. You wish you knew what that meant for you two; you wish that the suspicions and hopes in your brain are true. “Or asked.”

Jamie’s cockiness kicks back in at your flustered nerves. “Like I said, I’ve always noticed you. And now I get to be the luckiest guy.”

Your eyes meet his. For a moment, you let yourself pretend. Pretend that this is real—that this is the relationship you and Jamie have built together. That you’re a couple, and this is just one of those moments you get to stumble upon—a sweet realization that Jamie had liked you long before either of you dared to admit it.

You let yourself hold on to the fantasy, just for a moment.

It has to be just a moment... you think if you stare any longer at Jamie your body is going to take over and grab him for a kiss, just to know what it may feel like. You just know you shouldn’t.

“Four,” you say softly. “I’m making four for Roman.” You turn back to the stitch you had laid on your lap, trying to get out of your frenzie and into your zone.

Jamie smiles, eyes still twinkling. “That’s his name? Roman?”

You hum. “He’s about to turn four. And he’s just the most adorable kid I’ve seen.”

“I’m being rude, aren’t I?" replies Jamie, "Prodding.”

Your head snaps up. “What? No.” You uncomfortably shift in your seat to hopefully look less odd. “Sorry if I’m being weird. I’m just… zoned out, I guess. Thinking a lot.”

“Yeah?” he says, staring at you intently. “What about?”

“Just… everything about today, I suppose.”

Jamie jokingly smiles. “Yeah, getting a call that your boyfriend got whacked in the head and is now concussed wasn’t really in your daily plan, was it?”

You let out a laugh. “No, it wasn’t.”

“It got in the way of watering radishes, I bet.”

Again, you laugh more, your stomach moving steadily at the action. From the limited conversation you’ve had with him, paired with now, you’ve deduced that Jamie is just a complete pro for lightening up conversations. When your heart races nervously, a quip comes out of his mouth that makes your body go back steady. You don’t even think that this is an individual experience; he seems like he does it a lot. You wonder how that balance comes so perfectly in his life.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “My gardening has to come to a pause today.”

“It’s a shame,” he says, grinning. “Would’ve loved to see you in your cute sunhat, or the giant yellow gloves you always wear.”

Your eyes widen at his words.

Seeing your shock, he adds, “You think I don’t notice these things? I always have.”

You try not to cough up the food you’d just digested. You would like to consider that Jamie is just making things up, but the description of your usual accessories when you’re out tending to your plants remain true. The giant yellow gloves belong to your mom, and there hasn’t been any reason to buy new ones if you’ve already got a pair.

And the sunhat—well, it’s not everyday you’re seen out with it. It’s usually if the sun ever comes out, glaring at your eyes while you try to focus on a task at hand. You’ve probably brought it out maybe a couple of times since Jamie had moved in next to you; none of those times being as of recent.

It’s a shock Jamie can even recall it.

He remembers the little things. I always have.

“Fuck,” he mutters softly. “Have I creeped you out? Don’t mean to sound like a prick, but I thought what I said was pretty fucking cute. But I understand if it’s creepy again. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, Jamie, I’m not creeped. ‘M kinda just shocked that you notice things like that.”

He shrugs. “It’s hard to not pay attention. You live right beside me. And you’re you. It’s pretty fucking impossible for me not to notice things about you.”

Your heart is back to racing. All of Jamie’s confessions of things he’s noticed can only insinuate that he’s genuinely seen things about you, whether he had gotten hit in the head or not. They’re not fabricated in his mind from his belief that you two are dating. He’s not like Holy shit, do you remember that time we had dinner together? You think if he started recalling specific memories that never happened, you’d check him straight into the nearest mental institution.

But he’s saying things that are so undeniably true; things he’s noticed about your being.

If you aren’t already so conscious and confused of the actual problem at hand, you’d sit here and pretend that he’s yours—just as much as he claims to be. You wish this moment to be real, but it’s not. The sadness and guilt that weighs over you with that fact can overtake any other feeling in this moment.

“Jamie,” you begin, “I need to tell you something.”

You think about Stevie’s advice, to not tell him today. The doctor saying not to overwhelm him. You know they’re right. You don’t want to. The poor bloke is probably already stressed enough as it is. You want to be here for Jamie, to help him get better because even with your limited experience around him, you care very deeply about his wellbeing. And maybe your feelings are skewed by the crush you’ve been harboring on him, but that’s hardly the point anymore.

But how are you supposed to keep this up? Pretending to be someone you’re not, filling a role in his life that isn’t truly yours—it feels wrong, no matter how much you want to help him heal.

You don’t think you’re cut out for pretending.

Jamie looks at you expectantly, a small smile on his face and your heart just breaks.

“Jamie… I don’t know how to say this,” you admit, your throat tightening. “But I’m not your girlfriend.”

For a second, Jamie looks beyond confused. “The fuck? Did we break up?”

“I got the call today,” you explain gently, shrinking down into the sofa with a racing heart. “When I heard you were in the hospital, I was worried—God, I was worried—but I didn’t understand why they called me. And then Roy said… he said we’d been going out.” You bite your lip, carefully choosing your next words. “It made me realize something had gone wrong. That maybe you hit your head and got things mixed up.”

Jamie doesn’t say anything, his brows knitting together as he processes your words.

“I wanted to do what was best for you,” you continue, your voice growing quieter. “Everyone kept telling me not to startle you, not to stress you out. But I can’t keep pretending we’re in a relationship when we’re not. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel honest. “I care about you, Jamie. I care about you getting better. But I can’t pretend, okay? I’m really, really sorry.””

It’s been nearly two days since you’ve seen or heard from Jamie. You’d practically bolted after your admission, your chest tight with guilt and your hands trembling as you no longer felt worthy of being in his home.

You hadn’t looked back, and he hadn’t stopped you.

It’s all you think about as you sit in the kitchen with your morning coffee, trying your best to catch up on the emails about work that have been piling up while you wallow.

Your work is interrupted when the doorbell rings.

You immediately think it’s Stevie; she’s been wanting to see you since you had texted and said that you couldn’t even last the night without telling Jamie the truth. You purposefully left out the parts where Jamie pointed out the crocheting for Roman, and the gloves, and the sunhat, and Jamie just noticing you. God knows Stevie will be the first person to jump up and say he’s in love with you, and you’re not ready for that delusion in your head to be spoken out into the universe.

Especially after Jamie has not spoken to you since. He’s probably freaked out, never wanting to speak to you for as long as he possibly can.

You close your laptop and head to your front door, not even bothering to check who may be on the other end because—duh—it’s Stevie.

Only, it’s not her.

Instead, three boys stand on the opposite end of your door, gaping at you from the moment you lay eyes on them.

They look vaguely familiar to you, and judging but the sweatsuits they’re wearing with the AFC Richmond logo, they’re Jamie’s teammates. You swallow your anxiety and give them a confused look.

“You’re real,” the man in the middle says, tall and broad with a commanding presence..

“Shut up, bruv,” the man to the right elbows the other. “We don’t even know if it’s her. ‘Could be the girl two houses down…”

“Mi amor,” says the final man, eyes light. His warm, melodic voice is unmistakably Spanish, holding up a bottle of wine like a peace offering. “What’s your name?”

You frown, wanting to ask so many questions when a shout intercepts the trio that has lined up at your door.

“Oi!”

They boys all turn, and you manage to peek your head out the door, to see Jamie stomping down the steps of his home, clad in sweats and… cow slippers?

Despite the grumpy set of his face, the sight is almost endearing.

“Jamie!” the trio chorus in unison, like they’ve been caught red-handed.

“You didn’t answer the door,” one of them says, “we figured you’d be at your beautiful lady’s.”

“Don’t mean you can go knocking on doors of people you don’t fucking know,” huffs Jamie, finally reaching them. He doesn’t spare you a glance.

The boys look ashamed. “We’re sorry, bruv,” says the tallest one, voice gruff and guilty. “Dani made Birria tacos, and Colin’s brought fuzzy socks. I just wanted to say sorry for whacking ya.”

Jamie’s eyes soften at his words. He sighs. “Thank you, mate. I appreciate it, I really do. But I stand by what I fuckin’ said. You can’t go knocking at random doors.”

“But it’s not random!” says the boy you’ve deduced to be Colin. For the first time since they’ve knocked, he turns to you in acknowledgement. “It’s lovely to meet you!”

“The flowers are gorgeous,” says Dani, eyes g;azing dutifully at your front lawn. “And we apologize for the interruption.”

Jamie nods at them, like a mother watching over their child at the playground after a petty fight breaks out.

You grin, awkwardness dissolvong. “It's okay. And—I love birria tacos, by the way. Good choice.”

Dani blushes. “I’m sure Jamie wouldn’t mind sharing it with his lady. Wouldn’t you, Jamie?”

Jamie sputters, looking between the boys, and sparing you the first glance since he’s got here. His mouth opens, then closes. Repeatedly.

“Um,” you interject, “I would much rather let Jamie enjoy it. Thank you, though!”

Isaac frowns. “That’s how you’re gonna treat your girl?” he grumbles at Jamie.

“She said it!” argues Jamie. “Not me!”

Isaac shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about no chivalry these days, but he claps Jamie on the shoulder. “Alright, bruv, we’ll get outta your hair. Just make sure you enjoy the tacos. And, uh…” he glances at you with a cheeky grin, “Be nice to your lady, yeah?”

Jamie groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Colin pipes up, “It was lovely meeting you!” His voice is warm and genuine, and he flashes you a smile before jogging after Isaac, who is already halfway down the steps.

Dani lingers a moment longer, holding out the wine bottle to Jamie. “You deserve this,” he says with a knowing smile, his gaze flicking between you and Jamie.

Jamie takes the bottle “Thanks.”

“And don’t worry, we won’t knock on any more random doors. Adiós, mi amigos!” Dani trots after the others.

And then it’s just the two of you.

“‘M really fucking sorry ‘bout them. I didn’t think they’d come knocking at your door when I decided to fucking ignore them.” He stares down at the endearing cow faces at his feet, sighing.

You shrug, a harmless smile tugging at your lips. Jamie looks awfully nervous, which you don’t understand. “Makes sense, honestly. And I don’t mind. Now that you’re here, though, I just wanna ask how you’re doing.”

He looks briefly surprised. “I’m doing alright,” he says eventually.

“Okay, because I never intend to pry, but I’ve just been pretty worried. And—“

“You don’t need to pretend to care.”

The abruptness of Jamie’s cutoff has you wondering whether or not it actually occurred. His frown, however, only solidifies that those words did indeed come from his mouth.

“Excuse me?” you reply, voice sharper than intended.

“Listen, I was a fuckin’ idiot and a borderline creep to you. When you left, I really thought about it and how fucked up that whole day was. I can’t imagine how it made you feel; being put into a position where you had to be in a relationship with me.”

You frown. You wonder now if this is why Jamie has chosen not to speak to you; if his guilt for the situation has kept him from reaching out. You refuse for that to be a reality.

“Jamie, are you serious? I just wanted you to be okay! And that’s still what I want for you.”

His eyes peek up from his slippers to you. “… So you don’t hate me?”

You laugh. “I have no reason to hate you, Jamie.”

“You have every reason to believe that I’m a stalker-creep, by the way!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want me to see you as one?”

“Obviously fucking not!

“Then stop trying to drill it into my head!” you laugh.

Jamie stares at you for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like he wants to argue but can’t find the words. Finally, he lets out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. There’s a flicker of vulnerability in his expression, softened by the small. And, for the first time in days, the tension between you feels like it’s starting to ease.

“If it’s not obvious,” he begins awkwardly, “I like you. A lot.” He laughs at himself. “Enough to reach stalker status. And clearly my fucking fantasies wanted to take over with me fucking head… but I wanted to do it all the right way. ‘Kinda cheated didn’t I?”

For the first time in two days, the churning in your stomach isn’t anxiety, and instead something entirely more manageable. You grin at him, teasing, “Maybe a little.”

He huffs a laugh, the sound a mix of relief and something hopeful. His eyes meet yours, more sure now, though his voice remains gentle when he says, “I want to do it right. All of it. If you’ll let me.”

The way he looks at you—open, expectant, like he’s giving you the choice and trusting you to give the truest response.

Your smile says everything he needs to know.

(You already know Stevie’s going to lose her mind when you tell her.)

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine

209 notes · View notes

crazyk-imagine · 2 years ago

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Mended Relationships and the Future

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Fem!reader Characters: Fem!reader, Ted Lasso, Coach Beard, Keeley Jones, Jamie Tartt, Rebecca Welton, Isaac Mcadoo, Colin Hughs, Sam Obisanya, Dani Rojas, Jan Maas, Roy Kent, literally all of the players (I just can’t think of their names) Warnings: Slight angst, fluff, cursing, mentions of pregnancies, mentions of reader not taking care of themselves (don’t do this), Jamie being sweet, reader and Jamie being dummies for a second, the team being so goddamn adorable, the team gives such family vibes, Jamie pretending the reader and he are engaged so he can stay with her, Ted and Beard are a powerful duo, this is my favorite TL fic that I’ve written Word Count: 3,783

A/N: Bits and pieces are based on this post

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You walk into the coach’s office with your hands in your hoodie pocket, clutching onto your phone to keep your hands busy. "Why did you wake me up and force me here, Ted?"

"That's not a can-do attitude."

Your expression doesn't change, if anything, you look more tired and drained. Another reason why the mustached man got you out of your home. "Ted."

He sighs. "I wanted to check in on you, haven't seen you in a minute."

You sigh. "I would prefer it if I were in my bed right now to be honest with you."

"After we go out to lunch."

"I want to be out of here before I run into..." You pause when you almost say his name. "You know what- I'm just- I’m gonna go." You barely turn around and hear the door open.

It takes you less than a second to duck, which makes Ted feel a little bad but doesn't change his mind.

He knows you two need to talk, especially when neither of you want to admit who broke up with who... or why it happened.

Your emotions take a toll on your body again and you crawl towards the trash can, dry heaving until you feel it coming up (again).

Beard kindly closes the door before anyone could walk in or hear you as Ted rubs the space between your shoulders.

"How long have you been feeling like this?"

You shrug.

"How long?" He asks again.

"A few weeks."

Ted glances over at his long-time buddy with wide eyes. "Please don't get upset or take offense when I ask this but have you-"

'Play dumb. Play dumb.' "Have I what? Use words, my brain isn't functioning off your noises."

"Is there a possibility that you could be, you know, with child?"

Your head snaps up. 'He knows.' "Why would you ask that?"

"You have a few of the signs."

"When was the last time you went to a doctor?" Beard chimes in.

"A while ago."

"So, you know?"

"Whether or not I'm pregnant with my ex-boyfriend’s baby, who coincidentally told me he doesn't want kids just as I wanted to tell him I do. Yeah, it was right as I was about to tell him I am with child, which is why I've been dodging all of you but you and Beard here," you point to Ted's sidekick, who waves. "Dragged me out of my house."

"Oh, honey."

"Does he know?" Coach beard intervenes (again).

"What do you mean?"

"You said, you wanted to tell him... did you?" Ted politely asks.

"He broke up with me, so I didn't give him my surprise, but I tell people it was mutual because he asked me if," the tears roll down your cheeks. "If it was okay. The fucking ex-cockiest player of all, asked me if I was going to be okay, so of course I said yes and then he left. We haven't spoken since."

"He should know."

"I know but he is scared to death to have his own kids. Why would I-" You scoot back and rest your head against the wall. "I want to go home. I have a few things coming later today and I need to be there for them. It’s time I start," you take a deep breath. “Getting things ready.”

"We can get those later, I've gotta make sure you're okay right now."

"I'd be better if this nausea, vomiting combo would go away."

"Do you want me to have Keeley get you a ginger ale or something?"

"Yeah."

The door opens and there she is. She stares at you with the same look she gives you every time you throw up. "I had a feeling you were going to need this."

Jamie sees what he imagines is a glimpse of you sitting in his coach’s office. He furrows his brows, wondering if it was really, you or if it's a figment of his imagination... again.

It wouldn’t be the first time this week.

"What?" She practically screams when Ted tells her on behalf of you, the Jamie not knowing part; she already knew you were pregnant, but she thought he knew and decided not to be in either of your lives. Now she feels a little bad about not being nice to him.

You bury your head in your hands. "Shut up. Don't shout anymore, please."

"Can you blame me? That's big fucking news babes. I thought he already knew."

"Yeah, I know. Just, shut the door please."

She doesn't, so you push yourself up and close the door.

You sway as you take a step back, “oh, boy.” You can hear their voices but not hear their words. You feel yourself falling backwards before it fades to darkness.

Ted and Beard catch you, carefully laying you down so the latter can call for an ambulance.

Jamie steps closer to the office, sensing something’s happened. He opens the door and his jaw dropped as he’s about to ask what's going on until his eyes land on you.

He immediately falls to his knees beside you, holding your face in his hands, not caring about the rug burn that’s going to ache later. "What happened?"

No one responds.

"What fucking happened?"

Ted doesn't feel he should be the one to tell him and does all that he can to try and calm down his player. "She's fine, she probably didn't have enough to eat for breakfast, is all."

"Bullshit. She's done that before and never fainted before." He stares down, studying your face. "So, why is she fucking unconscious?"

You don't know anything that happened within the last few hours.

All you know is that there is an annoying beeping sound coming from the side of you and your one hand is warmer than it normally is.

You slowly open your eyes, blinking multiple times as you try to adjust to the lighting. You look for the source of the warmth and find Jamie, holding your hand with his head rested on his arm with his head facing you.

The door opens and you find Ted peaking in.

The way his shoulder sags in relief makes you feel bad.

He tiptoes closer and lets you know what happened.

"Why is he here?"

He smiles as he peaks over at the sleepy man. "He didn't leave your side."

"How did he know?"

"He came in as we were calling for an ambulance. You scared him, he would barely let the paramedics help."

"Isn't family only allowed in here?"

"Apparently you two are engaged."

You owlishly blink. "What?"

"He said you two were engaged and he needed, no, no. That's not right, he demanded, there it is. He demanded to be in the room with you. I wasn't here for most of it. In the room I mean but I think he knows because he looked very shocked and then came in here when they told him he could and hasn’t left since."

The coach ignores the fact that your heart monitor spikes as you ask, "he knows?"

"I think so."

Jamie moves a little in his sleep.

"That's my cue to leave."

"Wait- no. Ted. Come back." You glance between him and Jamie. "Ted," you hiss. "Come back here."

Jamie squeezes your hand as he slowly begins to wake up.

You look back at him just in time to hear the door close. You throw your head back and sigh.

"Sweetheart?"

You slowly turn your head to stare at him, your eyes becoming sad.

His shoulders sag in relief as a slow sigh escapes his parted lips. "How are you feeling? I should- I should go get the doctor, shouldn't I?"

You reach for him, grabbing onto him before he could leave. "Jaim. Jaim?"

He doesn't turn around but settles back into his seat.

"Jam-Jam?"

A sniffle fills the room.

"Jamie, look at me."

He shakes his head. You tighten your grip on his arm, ignoring the familiar burning sensation in your nose. "Jamie, I need you to look at me."

"Why?" He sniffles, staring at you with his now, bloodshot eyes. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Don't throw that question my way, Tartt."

"No more, Jam-Jam?"

"I was going to tell you."

"What? After the birth?"

"I'm more tempted to now." You wipe the stray tear that tipped past your eye lid before he could see. "I initially planned on telling you right when you broke up with me but, we see how well that turned out."

“Wh- is that what you had been trying to do the whole time?”

You nod and lean forward, drawing him into you; needing to comfort him and be comforted all at once.

He moves closer to you, closing his eyes at the feeling of your hand against his face; something he hasn’t felt in what feels like, forever. He hadn’t realized you were wiping away his tears.

“I wanted to figure out the best way to tell you because, I mean we hadn’t exactly talked about us having kids before and I kind of figured that with everything that went on with your dad. I thought it was going to make it hard for you to think that you could be a good dad. Which, I think is stupid.”

He opens his mouth to ask what you mean until you continue.

“I mean, how could you not be a good dad because personally I think you’d be absolutely fucking phenomenal.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, “big time. You’re already doing better than your dad.”

“What do you mean?”

You smile and sniff. “You’re not making any of the stupid decisions he has.”

“I made one.”

You tilt your head. “What was that?”

“I broke up with you. I just-” He pulls back from you (something he does when he feels like he’s undeserving of something). “I thought- I thought you were pulling away to break up with me and you couldn’t figure out how to do it, so I-”

“So, you thought breaking up with me first, was a better option?”

He nods, scratching his head.

“Come closer.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he weakly argues.

“Come here.”

He scoots the chair closer.

“I need you to be honest with me when I ask these questions, okay?”

He nods.

You sigh through your nose and reach for his hand. “Is there any part of you that does not want to be a part of either of our lives?”

“No.”

“Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to leave any time soon?”

“The fuck do you take me for? I’m not going to leave you ever,” he stands up and bends down, staring into your eyes before leaning down to kiss you. “Okay? I love you too fucking much to let you go again. I hated being away from you.”

“Same here but, I’m really happy you’re here… even if it was because I fainted.”

“Speaking of, why did that happen exactly?”

“I- well- I hadn’t had anything-”

“Let’s just cut the bullshit, have you been taking proper care of yourself since we were separated?”

You shamefully shake your head.

He doesn’t show his disappointment, but you know it’s there.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle.

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry. Isn’t that- crying is stressful on the baby, ain’t it?”

“Not so much- I mean, maybe?”

“Okay, well.” He grabs your hands, bringing your attention to him. “Let’s take a few deep breathes so we can calm down for Baby Tartt.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Do do do doo.”

“Listen to you. Guess I rubbed off on you, eh?” You roll your eyes, not believing that for a second. “Does any of what you’ve said within the last two minutes sound anything like what your dad could say?”

“Not in the least bit.”

“See, exactly. It further proves you’re different and how much you’ve grown from the cocky man who couldn’t care less about anyone else.”

“Hey. That’s someone we don’t speak of.”

“Of course,” you salute him. You two can barely keep your amusement to yourselves and break into a fit of smiles and giggles.

He stares at you, watching as you wipe your cheeks and leans up, kissing your forehead before placing his on top of your head. “I was,” he hesitates to finish his sentence.

You nod and cup his cheek, letting him know you’re there, a simple gesture to let him know you want to hear what he has to say.

“-so scared when I saw you lying there unconscious.”

Your heart drops at the way his voice cracks. “Jaim. Jaim. Look at me.”

He shakes his head.

You don’t push any further and instead opt for bringing him closer, letting him rest against your chest, squeezing you in a hug.

It takes a few minutes before Jamie manages to calm himself down enough to revert back to your adorable boyfriend. “Oh, shit. I didn’t hurt the baby, did I?” He asks, now scared to touch you.

“No. You didn’t.”

You hold out your hand for him, “do you trust me?”

He nods, “’course I do.”

“Give me your hand.”

He slowly inches his hand closer and closer to you.

You huff and reach for him. “Are you ready?”

He doesn’t move or make a noise as you place his hand over your belly. “Am I supposed to be feeling anything?”

“Other than knowing the fact you are going to be a father soon enough, no. I’m not that far along for us to feel any kicking.”

He bends down as a breath of relief escapes him. “Thank god, I thought I was supposed to feel kicking or something and I didn’t, which scared me the hell out of me because I thought he already hated me.”

“He?”

“I mean, hello,” he gestures to himself. You roll your eyes and take your hand back from him. “You’re so going to be cursed with girls.” “How can you say that?”

“Have you met yourself?”

“I have and we’re actually quite happy together, sorry for the late notice, sweetheart.”

You close your eyes and let out a dramatic sigh.

Ted peaks his head in through the door. “I see you two have talked things out? Hopefully, if not. No pressure. Well, maybe a little seeing as I have everyone waiting in the hall.”

“Everyone?” You repeat.

The coach nods. “Give me second.” He looks back over his shoulder, pretending to count, “one, two, four. Yep, everyone.”

You place your hand on your forehead. “Suddenly the thought of everyone knowing makes me nauseous.”

“Hey, hey. Look at me.”

You turn your head and look at your favorite person ever… for now.

“If we can get through the team being little shits and the press making unnecessary comments about our relationship, we can get through the team knowing.”

“We can?” He gives you an affirmative nod, “we can.”

“We can.”

“Atta girl.”

“Alright, guys. They said okay,” Ted waves everyone in.

“I suddenly realize how many of you there actually are,” you comment.

Sam, Dani, and Colin chuckled.

“As captain, I feel like it’s my duty to ask,” Isaac leans closer to you, talking to you in a softer tone than his normal one. “How are you?”

You smile, “I’m better now.”

“Good, that’s what we like to hear. Ain’t that right, team?”

“Yes, coach!”

“And now I’m scared.”

“Oh, don’t be scared especially when you’re carrying a special bundle of joy,” the mustached man points out.

“Oh fuck.”

“Something the matter, Roy?” Ted asks.

“Yeah. She’s carrying Tartt’s baby.”

“I’m pretty sure they covered that topic back in school but continue.”

“There’s going to be a baby brought into the world soon.”

“Yeah?” Ted glances over at Beard, who shrugs.

“With his blood coursing through its veins,” he points to your ex-not-ex-boyfriend.

It’s quiet for three seconds before everyone groans and rolls their eyes, they think about what it could be like with a baby Jamie.

“Hey, hey now. Let’s not think about something as crazy as that because this baby is a good thing.”

“Yeah?” Jamie whispers, glancing back at Ted, not letting go of your hand.

“Yes, it is,” the coach nods. “You’re going to go through one of the many joys life brings you.”

“What’s that?”

“Fatherhood… that, may or may not mix with a lot of uncles and two aunts who decide they want to spend time with the little booger.”

“Would one of those many figures happen to include you, coach?”

“No,” Ted shakes his head.

“Not at all, Beard.”

The door opens and heads turn.

“Hi, I’m just here to-” The nurse takes note of the number of people in the room. “I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask anyone but the father and mother of the child to leave.”

“Is it not believable that a woman could have this many boyfriends?” Jan asks.

“Shut up.” A shoe aimed at his head, hits the wall and lands on the floor with a thud.

The guys decide it’s time for them to leave, which lets you two see the few things the team has gotten, and it makes you tear up, freaking Jamie out.

And he doesn’t want to admit it out loud, but it was really nice of them team to do.

“Should we open some presents?” Ted softly asks, placing one in your lap.

“Didn’t the nurse just kick you out.”

“I’m your dad.”

“We’re your dads,” Beard adds.

You glance over at Jamie.

He shrugs, not completely hating the idea of having these two around. “I would’ve liked to know about my new parents beforehand. What’s next? Roy’s my uncle.”

“No, he’s a granddad more than anything,” Jamie chimes in.

You wipe your cheeks and smile at him before gently pulling the tissue paper out of your way. You pull out a onesie that looks normal, until you unfold it and inspect it. You sniffle as you hold it up for Jamie to see.

He doesn’t realize why you’re crying until he reads what the back of it, “Tartt 9”. He doesn’t feel the tears trickling down his cheeks until you wipe his cheeks.

“Jaim?”

He shakes his head and pulls you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head, over and over again.

Ted smiles behind his phone.

“We should probably give them some time alone.”

“You think?” He asks.

Beard nods.

Ted sighs, “okie dokie.”

They hold their hands up to wave, only to find your face squished against Jamie’s chest, barely able to wave them off.

You and Jamie wind up opening every one of the other gifts, enjoying each other’s company after being apart for so long.

“I think we should name it Jamie.”

“Baby Tartt is not an it, it’s a baby,” you argue.

“And we’re not naming them Jamie.”

“Why not? It’s a good name.”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad name but, we want our little pumpkin to be able to grow into their own, right?”

“We-” He sighs, thinking about it, already knowing you were right. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Was that everything?”

“I don’t know.” He glances over, finding a bag left on the floor, partially hidden so you couldn’t find it unless you were really looking. He grabs it and sets it in your lap. “What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug and move it closer for him to open (feeling you’ve done enough of the unveiling with presents).

He pulls a figure out of the bag. “A bike?” Jamie brows furrows together in confusion until he thinks about it. The light bulb goes off in his head, everything clicking together, and he smiles.

“Is there a card?”

“I hope so.”

Now you’re confused.

He pulls out what looks like a plain index card. “Free one learn how to ride a bike pass.” He chuckles.

“I’m lost.”

“Remember how I told you I had something funny I wanted to tell you a couple months ago, but I couldn’t because the shithead was making me train, even though Ted gave us the night off.” He huffs and sits back in the chair.

“Okay, I don’t need the background information, just give me the synopsis.”

“Right,” he straightens his back. “I taught Roy how to ride a bike in memory of his granddad.”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” he nods with a smile.

“And he let you?”

“Not without trying to hurt me but I did it.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Yea- really?”

“Of course, I’m proud of you. You taught the world’s grumpiest man how to ride a bike and lived to tell the tale.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right.”

“I hope the baby doesn’t get your cockiness.”

“My cockiness? What about yours?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.”

“You lie.”

He fake gasps and slaps his hand on his chest. “I take offense to that.”

“I’m not sorry.”

“You should be. We don’t want this one’s first word to be a lie.”

“It wouldn’t, don’t be mean,” you whine.

“I’m not. I’m just being me.”

“Yeah, and that’s mean.”

He smiles and shakes his head.

You start folding a few of the blankets the guys got, feeling the need to do something. “Hey, look. They got one with sharks.”

“We don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

“Girls can like boy things too.”

“Do you really want to be asked if we have a boy or a girl every day.”

“Don’t be mean.” You smile, holding it close to your chest. “I like it. Baby Tartt, do do doo doo. Baby Tart, do do doo doo.”

He groans, “please stop.”

“Never.”

You stiffle a yawn.

“Come on,” he takes away the few things on your lap and blanket from your hands. “You need to rest.”

“But I don’t want to.”

He smiles at the whining tone in your voice. “I know but it’ll do the two of you well.”

“Fine,” you tell him with a pout. “But sit by me. I… I’ve missed you.”

“How can I say no to my girlfriend?” Jamie settles beside you and lets you lay against his chest.

As you sleep and he’s bored, searching through the hospital’s shitty channels, he stumbles upon something interesting, an old childhood show he used to watch.

You open your eyes to hear the song you briefly sang earlier.

“Doo doo. Baby Tartt, do do doo doo.”

“Jam-Jam?”

“Hey,” he clears his throat. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. What were you doing?”

He shrugs.

You smile and snuggle back into him. “I won’t tell anyone.”

#ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso imagines #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt imagines #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x fem reader #jamie tartt x fem!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt x you #crazyk-imagine

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alwritey-aphrodite · 1 year ago

Text

head first, fearless

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x single mom!reader

Warnings: swearing, motherhood

Word Count: 5.5k

Author’s Note: here she is!! I also have ideas for a little follow up if anyone’s interested! And a very big thank you to @sokkigarden for being so lovely and helping me so much with this one

Some days you’re convinced Keeley Jones was put on this Earth simply to make your life better. When you’d moved next door to her five years ago, you never would have thought that the brightly dressed, brightly smiling woman would become one of your closest friends and your go-to babysitter.

It didn’t matter if it was a Wednesday or a Saturday, twelve in the afternoon or twelve at night, Keeley would take five-year-old Stella into her home with open arms and a bright smile.

“Anything you need, babes, I’m always here,” she’d told you the very first time you’d asked her to babysit at the last minute with tears in your eyes, and you’ve come to learn that she meant it.

So today, when you received a call from your boss at nine in the morning on a Saturday, you didn’t think twice before bringing Stella next door. Stella was settled on your hip, chattering away about how excited she is to see Keeley and all the fun things they’ll do together while you knocked on the door.

“You aren’t Keeley,” you say, confusion clouding your face at the man in front of you. He seems vaguely familiar to you, like you’d met in passing before, but you couldn’t place him.

“Jesus, Jamie,” you hear a voice from behind the man and he moves out of the way to reveal Keeley rushing towards the door, “sorry about him, he doesn’t know not to answer the door at other people’s houses,” she tells you as she rolls her eyes before reaching out for Stella with a bright smile.

Stella wriggles out of your arms and rushes towards Keeley’s plush couch with barely any time for you to plant a kiss on her forehead. You sigh with a mixture of relief and exhaustion, gathering yourself mentally before you head into the disaster zone that is your job.

“She’s been doing this thing where literally all she eats is strawberries,” you tell Keeley before you rush off, “but I’m sure you could get her to eat anything.”

“I’ll try my best,” she tells you with a wink before she all but shoves you away, “now don’t you worry about us, we’ll be just fine.” You smile at her one last time before you rush off to work, knowing Stella will be safe and happy for the whole day.

“Who was that?” Jamie asks, trying to seem nonchalant as he watches Keeley pour juice into a sippy cup as the little girl uses her chubby little fingers to turn on her favorite show.

“Oh that’s my neighbor, she’s a single mum and her boss is a total dickhead so I watch Stella whenever I can,” Keeley explains, leaning against the counter as she levels Jamie with a knowing stare, “she’s real fucking fit and I wouldn’t mind watching Stella while she does something actually enjoyable, like go on a date.”

Jamie’s a little embarrassed about how easy Keeley is able to read him, able to clock the way Jamie looked at you as he lingered in the doorway. You seemed magnetic, drawing Jamie towards you even as you rushed away and left him with nothing but the desire to know you better. Keeley stares for a few more seconds, long enough for Jamie to squirm under her gaze, before heading over to give Stella her breakfast with a giant smile.

Unsurprisingly, you were right, and Stella eats anything that Keeley makes for her, even the broccoli she had screamed at the night before. She ate it all with a smile, and Jamie was a little terrified at how quickly the little girl was taking over his heart. He’d always loved kids, loved getting to spend time with them and listen to the nonsensical way they talked, but something about Stella seemed different. She had been apprehensive about him at first, but by the time nap time rolls around, she falls asleep in his lap, her little head nestled against his shoulder.

This is how you find them when you rush home before dinner, not even bothering to knock or wait for Keeley to let you in. There’s still a Disney movie playing softly on the TV, and Keeley and Jamie are talking quietly so they won’t disturb Stella, even though you’re sure that girl could sleep through anything.

“Hi, babe!” Keeley greets you with a grin as she pats the couch next to her, and you’re so exhausted you don’t even think twice about sitting down, “Wanna stay for dinner?” She always tries to get you to stay for dinner, tries to get you to let someone take care of you for a change, but you’ve never once accepted her offer.

Today, though, you’re tired to your bones, and even the thought of ordering takeout seems like too much work, so you just nod. Keeley squeals before she looks over at Stella in mortification, but she’s still fast asleep against the man who opened the door that morning. Keeley must catch you looking because she sends you a wink before introducing the two of you, “That’s Jamie, Stella really seems to love him,” and then scurrying off to the kitchen.

At that, Jamie seems embarrassed, his cheeks tinged pink as he glances down at Stella, “I can try to hand her to you, if ya want?”

“Oh, no, I can never get her to nap this long,” you reassure him, and it almost feels like a swarm of butterflies are let loose in your stomach when he smiles at you.

The two of you talk quietly, Keeley joining in whenever she has something to add, and before long Stella is up and happily watching cartoons again. When it comes time for dinner, she demands to sit next to Jamie, practically vibrating with excitement at the idea of spending more time with her new friend.

Watching the two of them interact throughout the meal creates a pit in your stomach and an aching in your chest, as Jamie kindly helps Stella cut up her food and shoots her a wink when he steals a bite off of her plate and Stella just giggles and grins her way through the meal. As much as you’d like to stick around and catch up with Keeley and thank her properly for all of her help, you’re feeling the need to run so you help clean up in the kitchen before dragging Stella back home.

She’d been more than reluctant to leave and seemed on the verge of tears until you promised her ice cream before her bath and now she’s happily eating her dessert while recounting her entire day from the moment you dropped her off to the second you walked through the door.

“Jamie’s really nice and he let me do his hair and taught me to play football and Auntie Keeley said he thinks you’re pretty and…” you zone out after that, and even though you know Keeley was probably just teasing her friend, the thought sends you into a tailspin.

Sure, Jamie was obviously attractive and he was clearly great with Stella, but you barely knew each other and Stella could be lying to you because she’d recently started doing it just for fun. Knowing Keeley, though, she’s always trying to play matchmaker, and you wouldn’t put it past her to try and set up two of her single friends, regardless of if they’re compatible or not.

Still, you decide to spend some quality time searching for Jamie online after Stella goes to sleep.

What you don’t know, though, is that as you spend hours scrolling through all of Jamie’s socials, Keeley and Jamie are having a very similar conversation next door.

“Please just ask her out!” Keeley pleads for the thousandth time, pouring a glass of wine as Jamie pulls up the most recent episode of their favorite reality show.

“Keeley, I don’t know her at all.”

“I know, but I know her! And I know you, and I know the two of you would have a great time. Please, Jamie, the two of you deserve to have a good time and I want to babysit for something other than her boss being shitty.”

Jamie seems to be contemplating it, and Keeley knows she has him.

“I’ll give you her number, maybe invite her and Stella to a game, and then you can ask her out to dinner?” Keeley’s been toying with the idea of setting the two of you up, and now that you’ve actually met it seems like the most perfect idea and she knows you’ll be perfect together.

Keeley doesn’t wait for confirmation, going ahead and sending Jamie your contact information as he turns up the volume on the TV, as if to drown her out.

“And I’ll know if you don’t ask her,” she adds as she sits down next to him, feeling the need for one last push.

“Watch the show, Keeley,” Jamie says as turns his attention to the drama unfolding as if his heart isn’t racing at the idea of seeing you again, at the idea of taking you out for dinner.

It takes him a while to gather his courage, and he couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times he’s typed a message to you before quickly deleting it. He’d briefly considered asking his teammates for help, but that would mean explaining the whole situation and he remembers how intensely involved everyone was with Sam’s Bantr girl and he has no desire to be on the receiving end of that.

Instead, Keeley’s endless messages of Text. Her. push him over the edge until he types a text and hits send instead of delete.

Hey, it’s Jamie from Keeley’s house. Do you and Stella want to come to the game on Saturday? The seats are next to Keeley.

He couldn’t help the way he checked his phone every five minutes after hitting send, or the way his stomach swooped once you sent a reply.

Stella would love that, thank you :) she hasn’t stopped talking about you or football

Jamie needs to tamper down his smile when he reads that because he knows if any of his teammates catch him smiling at his phone, he’d never hear the end of it. Instead, he tells you that Keeley will have the tickets for you and he goes about the rest of his day as if his stomach isn’t full of butterflies at the idea of seeing you again or getting another text from you.

Saturday can’t come soon enough, with Stella bouncing off the walls at the idea of seeing her new friend again and, even though you’d never admit it to anyone, you’re looking forward to seeing Jamie too. Even though your conversation was brief, it was clear that Stella loved him and you’d gotten to know him a little better through texting, where he made you promise to come down to the dressing room after the match so he could say hello to Stella.

Unsurprisingly, it’s a struggle to get Stella into her little Richmond jersey, an old hand-me-down of Keeley’s niece with Kent plastered on the back; she begs you to wear it all the time, but the one day she’s supposed to, it's like the fabric is made of knives. By the time you stumble out to Keeley’s car, you’re sweaty and aggravated and looking forward to spending the afternoon with your best friend.

What you weren’t expecting, though, was to be led up to the owner’s box, where you were greeted by Keeley’s friend Rebecca, who was intimidatingly beautiful and the owner of AFC Richmond. You’d met a few times, but seeing her in her element while you wrangled a kindergartener made you feel like a fish out of water.

“And you must be Stella,” she says, looking down with a smile at your daughter who’s trying to escape your grip on her hand.

“Normally she has manners,” you respond as you smooth a hand over the girl’s hair, trying to get her to calm down for just a moment, knowing all the excitement of the match is going to make it impossible for her to sleep as it is.

Rebecca just chuckles, her brilliant smile never leaving her face.

“I completely understand, my Jelka sometimes acts like she’s never left the house.”

“I didn’t know you had a daughter?” Your statement comes out more like a question, racking your brain for any memory of Rebecca mentioning a child before.

“It’s a recent development,” Keeley adds with a wink to you as she squeezes Rebecca’s arm, and the taller woman just scoffs.

The four of you make your way out to your seats, Stella insisting on standing up on your legs, blocking everyone behind you. You turn to apologize, but the man sitting behind you just brushes it off.

“Children are strong willed,” he tells you with a reassuring smile, “I couldn’t even get my boys to wear pants when they were her age.”

It’s hard to ignore the urge to apologize for everything you or Stella did, but knowing you were surrounded by parents who understood the struggles of a strong willed child helped calm your nerves. It wasn’t that Stella misbehaved or that you let her run wild, but sometimes people who weren’t parents didn’t understand and expected her to sit quietly and still, as if she was a little adult and not a five year old child. Luckily, as the match started, everyone seemed to get as rambunctious and energetic as her.

Watching the game, you can’t help the way your eyes keep drifting to Jamie, even when he doesn’t have the ball. There’s just something about him that continues to draw your eyes to the large number nine on his back as he runs across the pitch. He scores right before halftime, and no one in that stadium is half as excited as Stella, who’s jumping up and down and screaming as if you just told her you’re taking a trip to Disney.

Richmond scores two more times, winning the game without much of a fight.

“Come on, let’s go see the boys!” Keeley stands and wiggles her fingers at Stella, who clambers out of her seat and eagerly grabs her hand, leaving you no choice but to follow. Keeley all but runs down the stairs with you and Rebecca trailing behind, exchanging information to get your girls together some time.

When you make it to the dressing room, you’re hit in the face with noise and warmth and the smell of sweat, but Stella is so excited you can barely focus on anything other than keeping your grip on her little hand. Keeley knocks and lets herself in with you and Rebecca following and you can’t help the way you immediately feel like there are 27 pairs of eyes on you.

“Jamie!” Stella slips out of your grip and makes a beeline for the striker and your heart stutters at the easy way she jumps into his grip, at the way he smiles at the little girl.

“We’ve gotta get you a better fucking kit,” Jamie tells her when he sees the large Kent plastered on her back, leading to stares and shushes from the rest of the team. Jamie, realizing what he’s said, looks to you with eyes wide with fear and remorse.

“It’s nothing she hasn’t heard before,” you tell him with a smile, and the room erupts into noise again, the team swarming your daughter and asking her opinions on the match, considering everything she says with genuine concern. You keep watch out of the corner of your eye, but from what you’ve heard from Keeley and what you know about Jamie, you’re sure Stella will be fine, but it’s hard to turn off the mom instincts.

Isaac is marching Stella around the room on his shoulders to “give her a better view” when Jamie comes over to where you’re standing with Keeley, Rebecca, and the coaches.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure, of course,” you shoot a glance back at Keeley, but she just winks at you as Jamie leads you out into the hallway.

It’s silent for a few moments, Jamie fiddling with the front of his kit, before he finally says, “Did Stella have a good time?”

“She loved it, probably the best day of her life so far,” you grin at him, hearing your daughter’s happy giggles through the dressing room door.

“Good, good,” he falls silent again, shoving his hands into the front of his kit.

You’re about to head back into the dressing room, even though you’re certain that wasn’t what Jamie wanted to ask you, when a question tumbles out of his mouth so quickly you’re certain you’ve misunderstood him.

“Wanna grab dinner sometime?” He expels a breath as if this is the most difficult thing he’s had to do today.

“What?” You ask in response, confused and surprised and sure you just didn’t hear him right.

“Would you like to get dinner sometime?” He asks again, slower, “Like, as a date?”

“That sounds nice,” and with the way he beams at you, you’re sure you’d agree to whatever he asks you.

“Cool.” You stand in the hallway for a few moments longer, just smiling at each other, before the laughter of your daughter snaps you out of your stupor and you head back into the dressing room. You can tell by the look on Keeley’s face that she knew exactly what Jamie had asked you, and was probably the one who pushed him to do it.

“Need a babysitter Friday night?” she asks as you approach, and you just roll your eyes at her, turning your attention back to Stella and the group of footballers that seem so enamored with her and her opinions.

The celebration starts to die down, even though you’re certain the party’s going to pick up at some exclusive club or bar in a few hours, and Rebecca walks with you and Keeley out into the car park.

“How long has that been a thing?” She asks, jutting her head back towards the building with a knowing little smirk as you buckle Stella into her seat.

“There is no thing,” you fix Keeley with a look, knowing that she’s probably been planning that for months, before you’d even met Jamie, and Rebecca has been in on it the whole time.

Still, you promise to message Rebecca with the dates that you and Stella are free for a playdate before buckling yourself into the driver’s seat, all the excitement of the day starting to wear you down. Hopefully, Stella’s so worn out from excitement she goes right to sleep when you get home, but you know the more likely scenario is that she stays up all night because she’s wound up.

The universe must be on your side, though, because Stella falls asleep before you’re even home and you need Keeley’s help to open your front door.

“God, this was so much easier to do when she was smaller,” you whisper with a grin, thinking of all the times Keeley needed to help you into your house when your arms were full of a sleeping Stella and groceries and your work bag. Keeley grins back, placing a kiss on Stella’s forehead before scampering off to her own house, waving goodbye before she closes the door.

Tell me when Jamie gives you a day + time, I’ll come over to help you get ready ;)

Even though you roll your eyes when you see the message, sent before you could even get Stella into bed, you really do appreciate her offer. You can’t even remember the last time you’d been out on a date, and you’ve certainly never been out with a professional footballer. Jamie’s clearly a nice guy, and you’ve enjoyed the few times you’d talked in person, but you’re already beyond nervous for the date that’s still days away.

Those nerves only grow as the week goes on, as you and Jamie settle on Friday at seven at an upscale restaurant you’d never even heard of, and as Keeley lets herself into your house with her spare key at four o’clock on Friday, your nerves reach their peak.

“Well, I’d totally fuck you,” Keeley says after she zips up the back of your dress, looping her arms around your waist and looking into your eyes through the mirror with a grin.

“Thanks, Keels, I’ll be sure to let him know that,” you reply with a giggle, finally starting to feel a little giddy at the thought of your date, even though your anxiety was pulsing just below the surface. The doorbell rings then, and you’re almost certain your heart is going to stop.

“I’ll get it,” Keeley gently pushes you aside as she makes her way out of the bathroom, “grab a purse before you come down, and not the big one! He won’t need snacks before dinner to stop him from crying!” She gives you a wink and then she’s gone, and you can just barely hear her greet Jamie at the door, followed by Stella making a run for him.

Breathing deeply, you make your way back into your bedroom to stuff all of your belongings into a tiny purse, leaving your trusty, large tote sitting on the bed, overflowing with snacks and toys to keep Stella entertained whenever you go out. As much as you’d love to, you know you can’t hide out in your room forever, so you snap your purse closed and make your way downstairs.

Walking down your steps makes you feel like you’re a teenager again, your prom date eagerly waiting at the door after getting grilled by your father, except this time it’s Jamie getting grilled by Keeley and your daughter. When she sees you, Stella is already reaching for you, attempting to wriggled herself out of the arms of a slack-jawed Jamie.

“C’mon, babe,” Keeley intercepts Stella instead, knowing you’ll never leave otherwise, “let’s go find a movie to watch.” Now, it’s just you and Jamie standing by your front door in silence, Stella’s happy jabbering filtering in from the living room the only noise.

“You look nice,” you finally break the silence, feeling awkward and unsure of yourself and certain you sound lame, like you haven’t been on a date in the last six years.

“So do you,” Jamie responds, gently trailing his eyes up and down your form despite the blush on the tips of his ears, “ready?”

You just nod, still needing time to process the fact that you’re going on a date with Jamie Tartt, who looks nothing less than perfect in dark slacks and a button up, and it’s clear that he had attempted to style his hair but the way he continually runs his hands through it has ruined whatever styling there was before. Hopefully the shock of going out with someone so gorgeous will wear off soon so you can actually participate in conversations.

Luckily, by the time you make it to the restaurant Keeley had recommended to Jamie, you’re able to talk about anything and everything, swapping stories about your childhoods and work and Stella, stories that Jamie seems genuinely interested in.

“I hadn’t put together any of her nursery furniture and she would not stop crying so I couldn’t put her down,” you tell him over dessert, explaining the beginning to your friendship with Keeley, “and then there was a knock on the door and I was ready to scream at whoever was on the other side, but it was Keeley and she took Stella right out of my arms and of course she stopped crying then.” You smile, reminiscing on how essential Keeley was during those first few months where you were convinced you’d made a mistake and you’d never survive.

“And then she sat with me while I put together the rest of Stella’s furniture, and she put her in the crib, turned on the baby monitor, and made me dinner.” Keeley had shown you that you weren’t alone, that you’d be able to handle whatever life throws at you because you had her by your side, and if anyone could understand that feeling it was Jamie. “She sat with me and came over every night, just to hang out, and when I went back to work, she watched Stella for me and I didn’t even need to ask.”

“Yeah, she’s magical like that, making you realize things about yourself, believing in you and shit,” Jamie adds, even as his cursing catches the attention of the tables around you.

“She insisted on being Stella’s fairy godmother,” you add with a giggle, delighting in the way Jamie smiles at you.

“I ordered Stella a Tartt kit, by the way,” as soon as the thought crosses your mind the words are out of your mouth, and it’s worth it when Jamie looks at you like this is the best news he’s ever heard.

“She’ll have to wear it to our next match, then,” and you’d agree to anything he says when he says it with that soft look in his eyes, like he might actually love you.

It’s too soon for any of that, but the thought doesn’t scare you the way it normally does. You think you’d enjoy being in love with Jamie, making breakfast together on the weekends and falling asleep next to each other every night of the week. Stella already adores him, so you’d never need to worry about that, and it seems like he cares for Stella the way you and Keeley do, and you know she needs all the love and support she can get.

Jamie glances at his phone, letting out a sigh as he notices the time.

“This is the best night I’ve had a in a while,” he says and you brace yourself for the finishing blow, “but grandad makes me get up at 4 AM for training. Maybe I can bring you coffee tomorrow?” He looks so hopeful, even if you weren’t already foaming at the mouth at the idea of spending more time with him, you’d say yes.

He walks you to your door, and you have to pretend that you don’t know that Keeley is watching from behind the curtains when you press a kiss to his cheek and he squeezes your hand in a way that makes you want to invite him in, even though you both know that would never happen. He waits until you’re safely inside before driving away, and as soon as the door shuts behind you, Keeley is attacking you for details.

Seated on the couch, legs tucked underneath you and junk food spread out on the coffee table, you recount your whole night, telling her how wonderful he was and how great he made you feel and Keeley looks happy enough to burst. Whether her joy comes from the fact that her two friends are happy or because she set the two of you up, you’ll never be sure.

After she leaves, you find yourself texting Jamie, thanking him for such a great night and wishing him luck with training before throwing yourself into bed, happy and exhausted and ready to sleep forever. You dream of Jamie and Stella and a dog, and when you wake up, you’re a little disappointed that it wasn’t real, though you’d never admit that to anyone.

Jamie brings coffee in the morning, and almost every morning after that. When you tell him to stop going out of his way, he tells you his house is right down the road, but Keeley confirms your suspicions that he’s lying. You just laugh when she tells you he’s wrong, too delighted that someone would go out of their way for you every morning to bring it up with him again.

It’s a little terrifying, how seamlessly Jamie fits into your life. You and Stella find yourself in the owner’s box of most Richmond home games, and Jamie brings over takeout every Friday night. If you’re ever working late or stuck at the office, Jamie always jumps at the chance to pick Stella up from school, sometimes grabbing Phoebe as well so the two girls can play together.

Sometimes you wonder if he does that solely to bother Roy, but you don’t mind as long as the girls get home safely.

Jamie is wonderful with Stella, and that was what scared you the most, because while you were used to dealing with heartbreak and disappointment, your daughter wasn’t. Every time you see them kicking a football around in your backyard or catch Stella asleep in Jamie’s lap during a movie, your heart constricts and your breath catches in your throat because you don’t know how you’re supposed to explain it to her if Jamie decides to leave, decides that a fit young footballer doesn’t need to be tied down by a kindergartener and her workaholic mother.

One night, a few months after that very first dinner, the two of you are sitting on the couch with Stella safely asleep in her bed and you’re so happy it scares you a little. This is everything you’ve always wanted, a loving partner who cares for your daughter like she’s his own, but you need to resist the urge to self-destruct.

“Jamie,” you start, reaching for his hand and pulling his attention away from the movie and hating how much this sounds like you’re about to break up with him, “I love you.” It’s a miracle you’re able to keep your voice steady with the terror you feel, but it all evaporates in a second when Jamie smiles at you, beaming from ear to ear as if he’s scored a game winning goal.

“I love you, too,” and he kisses you so softly it hurts you a little, hurts the part inside your brain that was wishing your life could have always been like this, wishing you could have always been this happy. You kiss him back, though, and the movie sits forgotten for the rest of the night.

“I got pregnant at nineteen,” you tell him later, wrapped up in your sheets and his arms, “and Stella’s dad isn’t a bad guy or anything, he just… wasn’t ready, which is fine, it was my choice in the end, but sometimes it really fucking sucked.” You sniffle, hating yourself a little for ruining such a lovely night but Jamie just pulls you close, presses a kiss to the crown of your head and traces nonsensical shapes on your arm.

“But then I found Keeley, and now I have you, and Stella’s perfect and everything turned out okay but I just wanted you to know,” you finish, breathing deeply for the first time since you started talking. It wasn’t like it was a secret that you had Stella young or that you were a single mom, but sometimes revealing all the details felt too intense, like no one needed or wanted to hear how you got to this point.

“Me mum was only twenty when I was born,” Jamie tells you, continuing his tracing on your arm and it’s then that you realize he’s been drawing hearts, “and my dad’s a real piece of a shit, so she basically raised me all on her own. And then she found Simon when I was a teenager and he’s a good guy, likes baking and shit. I think they’d both like you a lot, you and Stella.”

“Well, your mom must be pretty great, putting up with you all on her own,” you smile, bursting into laughter when Jamie squeezes your side, both of you feeling lighter and falling asleep after sharing more giggle-filled kisses.

Life continues on, leaving you giddy to see what the next day will hold. Jamie continues to bring coffee every morning, stopping by while Stella eats breakfast in front of the TV and you pack up three lunches. If there isn’t a game, Jamie stays over on the weekend and the two of you make breakfast together, swaying gently in the kitchen in your pajamas, basking in the sun and his presence until Stella stomps her way downstairs, hair ruffled and her grumpy little frown blooming into a smile the second she smells the pancake batter.

Stella started playing football on the same team as Phoebe, and you and Keeley get equally as excited as you do at Richmond matches. Whenever he’s available, Jamie will join Roy as an assistant coach, and even though he tells you it’s to spend time with Stella, you’re sure seeing the annoyed look on Roy’s face whenever he shows up is a nice bonus. The four of you will take the girls out to lunch after, and you’re reminded of all the wonderful people you’ve had in your corner, some longer than others but all equally as important to you.

Your life might not have gone the way you expected, but what you have now is better than anything you ever could have dreamed.

Tags: @whimsical-roasting @hopefulromances @onceuponaoneshot @jamietarttdodo @scaramou @ickydollysstuff @drizzyreese @amieinghigh @ilymoonie @better-things-to-do @yepyeahuhhuh @zazima @guccilongboard @shineforever19 @tortilla-maria1 @shakespeareanwannabe @lilweirdgal @flashyourgreeneyesatme @aiyaiy @just35yrsandtrying @chrissy1986 @emmy2811

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt fluff #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction

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claraswritings · 2 years ago

Text

Conversation

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Reader

Warnings: spoilers for S1 and S2, miscommunication, (kind of) enemies to lovers, language, a few plot changes, mutual pining and one or two mentions of Jamie’s dad being a prick. Also I accidentally wrote something in this that is minorly similar to a scene in S3…but I wrote that bit AGES ago. Just signposting it as last time I didn’t someone got shitty with me

Notes: this is so much longer than I planned lmao so that explains why it took so long to post. Also not betad or spellchecked yet as it’s late here!

I don’t even know if I like this… I might delete this…

Title inspired by Conversation by Catfish and the Bottlemen

You’d been the player liaison officer at AFC Richmond for two years and for the most part, you loved your job. A lot of it involved what was referred to as “general life admin” for the players, as you sorted out everything from banks to home viewings to car collections to visas to schools for players with kids.

Most people would think looking out for a bunch of millionaire footballers would be a stressful job but you didn’t mind. The players had, for the most part, always been nice and you’d even started helping to show the new signings around, offering to recommend them restaurants or bars and you’d even become friendly with a few of them over the course of your time at the club.

Or at least until you encountered the clubs new loan signing. It had taken four weeks of his season long loan before you’d first spoken to him, and from the ten minutes he’d spent in your office, you’d gotten the same impression everyone did of him.

Jamie Tartt was undoubtedly the one of the biggest pricks you’d ever met .

Twenty minutes later than agreed, he’d sauntered in to your office, moaning about his teammates, discard the print offs of flats and houses you’d spent ages looking into for him, grabbed a card with the requested time and date of a collection of an Aston Martin you’d arranged for him without so much as a thank you, before asking if you could fix a modelling gig for him. With your arms folded across your chest, you’d firmly told him that was you were player liaison and not PR and that there was no way you’d be arranging his shirtless photoshoots or his latest perfume ad and he’d left with a comment about your job being “pointless” leaving your door wide open.

***

The next time you spoke to him was when he’d let a door swing in your face, as he stormed through the car park still furious after the loss to Crystal Palace. You held back from walking out as you could over hear him rant to the reporter from the Independent about…everything. An exclusive straight from the car park, Jamie Tartt was a journalists dream.

“Hey.” You caught up to him in the car park, “Talking to the press? Really?”

“Do I know you?” Jamie stared at you with a blank expression “Are you a fan? How did you get in here? You want a picture or something?”

“A fan? Of you? No. I work for the club. I’m the one that arranged your car, your flat, your VIP booth at the bar you’re off to. Most people say you’re welcome by the way.” You waved an arm in the direction of his sports car.

“Right.” Jamie continued to stare at you like you’d grown a second head before shrugging “Did you need something?”

Un-fucking-believable. In that moment, you’d never disliked him more.

You considered telling him how stupid it was to run his mouth off to the press, how much it would hurt his teammates, his manager, the fans to hear their star player dragging the club down but as you watched him chew his gum so casually, you realised he didn’t care and it was too late, and it was probably too late. Trent Crimm was already heading back to his car, statement no doubt being composed and ready for the morning papers but it was doubtful Jamie even registered anything other than himself and his massive ego. How could you possibly expect him to care about anyone else.

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Don’t think you’d understand it. Have a nice night.” You turned on your heel and were safe inside your own car before you finished the sentence “Prick.”

***

Ever since your little argument in the car park, you’d made it your absolute resolution to keep your contact with him to the bare minimum until the end of his loan when he’d become whatever poor player liaison officer Man City had.

You managed this pretty effectively being that he’d decided not to train until you’d received a call from your boss late into the evening one night asking you to come by the training ground. Usually a call in the evening was one of the new players wants a dinner reservation and didn’t know where to book or occasionally ordering a cab when one of the players had forgotten what hotel they were staying in the night before a game.

You absolutely not been expecting it to be ‘please can you swing by Colins and get his spare car keys…’ Nonetheless you’d agreed.

The scene unfolding before you when arrived the training ground was like something out of a fever dream. The players celebrating on the training pitch, a burning bin obviously a major part of whatever bonding exercise Coach Lasso had come up with. A scan of the field resulted no sign of Colin. You could see Dani Rojas, running around with Bumbercatch and Richard as if he hadn’t just been in the treatment room a mere 24 hours ago and Issac downing the last of a bottle of Mezcal back and forth with Richard whilst Ted and Beard watched on, laughing as Zoreaux choked on a swig of the liquor.

Nearest you and staring into the fire, beer bottle in hand, was the last person you wanted to see. Jamie Tartt. Of course it was. It would be so typical of your luck that it would be.

“Colin about?” You resolved yourself to asking him, wiggling your hand as the spare key jangled between your fingers. “Got to give him these.”

“Inside.” Jamie nodded “He’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Humming in acknowledgment, your eyes fell to the flaming bin and curiosity got the better of you and you had to ask “Do I want to ask how he lost his keys?”

“Burnt them in that.” Jamie gestured at the flames he was staring at. When you didn’t reply, his eyes found their way to yours and he explained the whole process.

“Oh.” You were surprised. “I didn’t think team bonding would have been your thing.”

Jamie hesitated. He couldn’t argue. You were right, he hadn’t been much of a team player

“I wasn’t gonna but…thought maybe I should show my face” he shrugged, hoping you wouldn’t question his bravado. He pointed at the fire. “Do you wanna throw something in? Everyone else has.”

“I think it’s already worked…” you gestured with your arm at the field. “but yeah why not?”

You thought for a moment… you hadn’t brought anything except your phone and your own keys which… you didn’t fancy throwing in. Unlike Colin you’d have to walk home and get your spare set and walk back to the car park, which wasn’t particularly appealing in the dark.

Suddenly an idea struck you, you unclipped your necklace and extended out your hand, letting it slip, dangling in your fingertips for a few seconds before dropping it. “Hopefully this helps with the luck.”

“You don’t need luck if I’m playing.” Jame replied, a smirk on his lips. You held off rolling your eyes at his cockiness. Sometimes you really didn’t get him. Mere seconds before you’d been having a semblance of a civil conversation and then he was right back to arrogant arsehole.

“What is it?” He questioned. It had to be the first time he’d asked you anything about yourself.

“Necklace. It was my nan’s… she…died when I was 15.”

“Oh shit sorry.” It was probably the most sincere you’d ever heard him. If it had came out of anyone else’s mouth, you might have bought it as genuine. “Wasnt like anything bad, was it?”

“It was a long time ago, she was sick for a long time and…” you stopped yourself suddenly aware that this was Jamie Tartt you were talking to and any minute now, he’d probably resume his usual self centred personality. “Sorry, long story short, she passed away a while ago but… I don’t think she’d mind. Grandad was a Richmond fan.”

“What did you…put in?” you asked, swiftly changing the subject. You were half expecting the answer to be his little black book of desperate instagram girls or some signed picture of himself from one of his many magazine photoshoots. It would after all be completely on-brand for him.

“Erm…football boots, ones my mum got me. She got me into playing…” he said it trying to be casual and keep his cool. “She just wants me to enjoy playing yeah? So good motivation and that”

“I’m sure she’d be really happy for you, Jamie.” You looked over to where Colin was remerging back from the building looking extremely relived to see you. “I have to go give these to Colin. It’s why I was called out here in the first place. Have a good night.”

Truth be told, you were a little skeptical. Of both the ritual and of Jamie showing an interest in anyone else other than himself but you figured if the whole team had given the ritual a chance, maybe just maybe, Jamie Tartt had developed the capacity to care about other people.

You found out the next morning that he was on his way back to Man City when you’d received an email from his agent asking you to arrange termination of his house rental agreement

***short time skip***

When your doorbell had gone off late into Saturday afternoon a few weeks later, Jamie Tartt had been the last person you expected to see.

“Richmond said you had the stuff from my locker.” He said, leaning instantly on the door frame as soon as you answered without so much as a hello. “Said you was going to send it to the guy who does whatever it is you do at City but I called Issac, Jeff and Keeley and they’re all busy so thought come get it. Nothing better to do.”

A house visit hadn’t been on the agenda but you figured it was marginally less awkward than him swinging by the training ground so you’d taken it and had been talking to the player liaison officer at City making arrangements to send it up.

“Well I’m flattered to be your fourth choice. Coincidentally probably your first words to Pep.” You couldn’t resist the dig. Ever since he’d left, Richmond had struggled but being that he was now Man City’s problem you didn’t have to mince your words.

“Yeah well, I’ll be first choice soon. Scored today didn’t I…,” he clicked his tongue and gestured at himself. “Best goal of the match as well.”

“Wouldn’t know. I was watching Richmond.” You folded one arm over the other. A part of you enjoyed the flicker of surprise that crossed his face, but you gave him a tight smile as a somewhat attempt to be civil.

“Heard old man Roy scored yesterday. Must have taken it out of him.” Jamie rested back on the heels of his expensive trainers “Bet he’s gonna be in that ice bath for hours.”

You ignored the dig at the Richmond captain “Had the game of his life actually…like someone turned back the clock. Heard from Sam that Nate had some real words of wisdom.”

“Nate? Nathan? The kitman?” Jamie’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you in shock. “We thinking of the same guy? Him!?”

You laughed, knowing that the idea of Nate who always seemed so unassuming and quiet giving Roy Kent, footballing legend, a piece of his mind was crazy. If you’d heard it from anyone other than Sam, you’d probably have thought it was an elaborate joke.

“Apparently so.”

“Fucking hell.” His eyebrows shot up “Kinda wish I’d seen the old man’s reaction.”

“Yeah well…you weren’t…I’ll get your stuff. Probably a bit weird for you…being at a woman’s door when you haven’t slept with her.” You tapped on the door and grimaced. You knew the team would miss Jamie for his ability on the pitch.

Jamie shrugged, before he was distracted by his reflection in the window. He adjusted a stray hair then slowly turned back as of pulling his gaze away from himself was particularly tough “You would though wouldn’t you?”

A singular laugh left your throat coming out harshly. “No. Nothing personal…Zoolander” you paused as you realised that wasn’t completely honest. “Well its a little personal…but…I don’t date footballers. Went out with one once. Played for another club. Was at my friends for a weekend. He slept with six other women in two days.”

Jamie pursed his lips and let out a low whistle almost like he was impressed.

“What’s that…Rookie numbers for you?” You called over your shoulder as you stepped to the side of the door to pick up the box that had been sitting in your hallway for the past week and a half.

“Nah…even I’m not that bad” He clicked his tongue and winked “Most of the time.”

“How lovely.” You deadpanned turning back to him. “Suppose you slow down once you run out of every woman in SW16?”

Jamie looked you up and down “You always like this? All Cruella DeVille and that”

Ignoring his playground like insult, you moved one hand back to the door handle, the box balanced on your hip with the other. You were hoping you’d be able to close the door quickly and force him to go off elsewhere. “You left my club, I’m allowed to be a little mean to you.”

“Lasso sent me back. Said he didn’t need me but obviously he does though cause you were losing until today” A cocky smirk on his face, he pointed at himself “Could have used me in those other games.”

“What?” You frowned, eyebrows knotting in the centre. “What are you on about?… of course we needed you. You’re a fucking twat but you’re good. Why wouldn’t he want you in the team” You didn’t like paying him a compliment but you felt it was the only way to get a reasonable conversation out of him

Jamie almost rolled his eyes and you were unsure if it was because he thought you were stating the obvious or saying something stupid.

Noticing Jamie’s childish reaction, you called him out.

“Ted’s a really nice guy, you know. Maybe cut him a little slack?”

Ted had always been friendly to you. Giving you a good morning when he arrived and a good evening with a bright smile when he left and even talking to you about favourite books when he’d brought ones in for the team. If you offered help with setting things up, he would always tell you not to worry and he’d sort anything out himself… More often than not he was back at your office with 15minutes talking a lot about how different things were to Kansas and asking for help.

Despite being new to the sport, never mind the Premier League, Ted was at least trying. It somewhat bothered you that Jamie seemed so intent on being disrespectful.

“Knows fuck all about football though.”

“And you know fuck all about how to talk to people. Maybe you could have learnt from each other.” You snapped back before you could stop yourself. “Just an idea. It’s how adults talk.”

Feeling the exasperation levels rise and wondering how you’d even gotten this far into a conversation with him, you tossed the box of his stuff in to his arms and he managed to steady it despite being caught slightly off guard.

“Goodbye Jamie. See you next season”

And with that you slammed the door shut forcibly before he could reply.

*** time skip***

“I’m just going to get a drink, you want one?”

You offered to your friend and her boyfriend, as you slid out of your booth. Truth be told, you didn’t need another drink, you just wanted to escape for a few moments and work out if it had been this loud when you were a Uni student or if you’d just become accustomed to pubs over clubs in the years since you’d left.

With the team settled into the season, and the new signings all set up, you decided to take a week off to go visit some old friends in Manchester and against your better judgement you’d been dragged to a bar by your friend and her boyfriend.

In response your friend waved her half full, bright blue cocktail, letting you know she was good for now and you made your way across the dance floor and up to the bar, ordering the strongest cocktail on the menu not paying much attention to what was in it.

You’d only just picked up your drink when you heard it. The familiar voice causing you to whip around so quickly that you were impressed you didn’t spill anything.

“[Name]? That you?”

“Jamie Tartt.” You replied, as you took a long drink of the freshly replenished cocktail “Nice to see you.”

You were, of course, being sarcastic. You didn’t try to hide it this time. You didn’t have to. The last time you’d seen him, he’d been assisting in the game that sent Richmond down. Well… that and when your friends had sent you numerous clips of him making an arse out himself on Lust Conquers All and asking you if he really was that much of a twat in real life, to which you’d reply no, he was actually a bigger twat.

“How come you’re in Manchester?” He asked, catching you off guard. Jamie had never cared about seeing you, let alone it being ‘good to’ and now here he was making small talk like you were old friends.

“I’m visiting friends from when I lived here.” You told him keeping your answer short “Look if you want someone to sort out some private booth for you, firstly I’m on holiday and secondly I work for Richmond…you don’t…so…” you paused and gazed around the busy bar, looking for someone to pass Jamie on to “ask the barman.”

“You lived in Manchester?” Jamie tilted his head, genuine surprise crossed his features, as if you’d been withholding some crucial information. “I’m from here.”

“I know you are…“ you took another long drink, feeling like you’d need it if you were about to have another frustrating conversation as your patience was slowly slipping away. He’d completely ignored your previous statement and carried on with the small talk he’d never shown any need for before “What do you need Jamie?”

Jamie looked stunned. “I didn’t know you lived in Manchester. How come you never said?” He replied with a question in response.

“It’s a big city Jamie. You never asked me about myself, surprised you even remembered my name. You don’t need to feign interest in me. Just tell me what you want.” Patience now completely gone and just keen for him to get to the point, you downed the last of your drink and turned to place it back on the bar, only just missing the slight look of guilt he gave you.

“I just, um,” Jamie hesitated, unsure as to how to start, he bit his lip. There was no way he could just come out with it.

He’d tried Keeley but she’d told him to talk to Ted which… he really didn’t want to do. He knew he’d have to eventually but he didn’t want to have to ask especially after how they’d left things in person. Jamie knew from the tiny army man and note that Ted held no resentment but approaching him was a completely different ask so he’d headed back to his mums in Manchester first to weigh up his options.

He considered messaging one of the team but knew after his assist to send Richmond down, they likely would not want to speak to him…so he went through the staff- Kitman Will was a no go, Nate an even bigger no, he didn’t even think he had his number. Jamie went through a few of the back room staff before the thought of you crossed his mind and he felt like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner.

You fixed everything. Player needed a mechanic, you had one around within an hour, one of the coaches needed a caterer, you could arrange it, any player needed schools for their kids, you had uniforms by the end of the day. It was, at least to Jamie, like you could fix any problem…so hoping you could fix his big one, he looked you up on instagram and seeing that you’d posted only two hours ago, he clicked to view.

You were laughing and clinking glasses with another girl and a guy and had placed a tag in the corner indicating what bar you were in. Jamie could barely believe his luck when he clicked on it; as if by chance, as if this was confirmation that he had to talk to you, the tag showed as a bar only fifteen minutes away. He’d left within five. He didn’t know why you were here in his home city but to Jamie it felt like a sign so he’d threw on a coat and headed out to find you.

“It’s nice to see you Jamie but if you’ve got nothing to say, I really need to get back to my friend.” It was a small lie, you could not have cared less about running into him.

“Wait.” He protested, reaching for your arm before pulling back, barely grazing you. “Can we have a drink or something?”

“I’m not a waitress Jamie. If you want a drink, you’ll have to get one yourself like a big boy.”

From the vacant expression that had taken over, he clearly no idea what you were talking about and was waiting for you to fill in the blanks.

“It was a joke. At the charity event, you gave me twenty quid and told me to get you a drink. I told you I wasn’t a waitress and you said ‘same thing’… then I took the £20 and used it for my taxi home… you obviously don’t remember.”

Jamie felt discomfort twist in his chest as he averted his eyes to the ground for a few seconds. Had he really said that? You said it so casually like it was normal.

“Look…please can I just talk you? I’ll…pay for your drinks.” He attempted a peace offering, only for you to wince.

“I can get my own drinks.” You stated bluntly, with a half hearted smile. “I’ll see you later, I’d say good luck for this season but Caths a United fan”

“I’m sorry…uh, I fucked it alright? I don’t…City don’t want me back.” Jamie slid in front of you quickly to try slow your move to the table down. “And I didn’t win Lust Conquers All…”

“I’m sorry to hear you didn’t win your show. Maybe there’s another you can rate strippers on or something.”

“It’s all I’m actually any good at.” His voice was far more subdued, far more quiet than you’d heard him before so much so you would have missed it if it wasn’t said in a seconds pause between songs.

“Rating strippers?” You made a joke, lips twisting up as you raised an eyebrow. However Jamie in response still looked deadly serious, so much so that something inside made your resolve falter. It was not like Jamie Tartt to be remotely serious.

You sighed, eyes skimming over the room to your friend, who was trying to wave you over with a questioning look on her face. Holding up a few fingers, you indicated to her you’d only be two minutes. She shrugged and went back to whatever conversation she was having with her boyfriend.

“Please.” He asked once more and you knew would kick yourself if this turned out to be an act. “I swear down I’m being serious”

You glanced back at Jamie who looked so utterly defeated, in a way you’d never seen him. He looked a million miles away from that cocky, arrogant guy you’d seen last time.

“Fine. We can talk but… outside…” you threw your hand up and jerked your thumb at the door. “I’ll meet you out there. I need to let my friend know I’m leaving.”

The cold air hit you suddenly as you stepped out of the busy bar, squeezing by a hen do and heading down the stairs. Jamie was already waiting outside, shifting from one foot to the other, looking even more on edge that he had done inside. Having seen his adverts, you knew he was not that good of an actor, whatever was going on it had to be at least a little bit real.

“Alright. I’m all ears.” You stated as you reached the bottom.

Jamie found himself talking and talking to you as you walked through the city without any real direction. You asked the occasional question but besides that you were mostly just listening. He was stalling, putting off asking you for help by just relaying the drama between leaving City and being voted off the show. You could tell there was something else. There was no way he’d drag you, someone he barely knew, barely liked, out into the city streets to question the voting public for picking some guy called Danthony over him.

“They offered me a reality show…when I got kicked off but I’d have to do ecstasy and shit and…” Jamie trailed off, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his designer puffer jacket. “Didn’t want that.”

“Drugs too far?” You joked, not wanting to show that you were actually pleasantly surprised that he had a limit as to what he’d do for fame. His eyes caught yours and he shook his head.

There was a beat, a few seconds of only the city sounds, you spoke again, your voice and your eyes more sympathetic this time. “I’m glad you didn’t take it. It would be a waste of your actual talent if you did. You’re way too good at football to piss it all away for some shit show…Why did you leave City anyway? Thought you had it all worked out? And be honest with me, I’m not thick, I’ll know.”

Jamie caught your eye, your gaze on him was questioning, but not in the demanding, scrutinising way he was so used to. You were looking at him in such a way, If you didn’t hate him, Jamie could almost convince himself you were asking because you cared. The slight softening of your look on him made him drop what was remaining of his facade and tell you the truth. “I thought it’d piss off my dad.”

“Ah,” the sound was small, “Is your dad…?”

“A prick?” Jamie stated bluntly before you could finish “Yeah. On me all the time, over everything. Always has been. Always got something to fucking say. Got sick of it. I know it’s stupid but…”

“It’s not stupid…well it was a stupid thing to do…” you pulled your coat tighter against the wind. “but you’re not stupid. I understand. I think most people would. I’m sorry your dads an arsehole.”

“Thanks” He commented with a tight face as you rounded the corner. “But I’m used to it”

“You shouldn’t have to be.”

You stopped as he could see your hotel lit up ahead on the street you were now walking down and somehow you’d ended up back where you were staying and you felt a little bit sorry to leave him. A small, tiny part of you thought about inviting him up and offering to continue the conversation but this was Jamie and you had a feeling he would definitely get the wrong idea.

“Erm… this… this is me.” You tilted your head up ahead at the hotel door “Thank you for walking me back Jamie. Even if you didn’t mean to.”

“Do you think Richmond would have me back?” Jamie asked quickly, fearing he’d lose his chance at getting out what had been lingering on his mind since he’d walked out of the meeting with his agent. “I could really really use Richmond now. And I think Richmond need me?” He gave you a tweak of a smile, more hopeful than arrogant.

Ah of course. That was it. He did need something after all. Despite this, you didn’t feel any resentment, you actually felt a little bit bad for him. Jamie had been a first class twat but he also seemed to be genuinely trying to reach out.

You gave him an apologetic smile. “Look, I wish I could help but…you’ll have to talk to Ted. I don’t have any say it in. I can give him a heads up but at the end of the day, he’s the manager, Jamie.”

“Yeah. Keeley said the same thing.” He looked dejected, reluctant even. “Don’t know why I thought you’d say anything else.” He dragged one of his expensive trainers against the concrete pavement and you winced at thinking how they probably cost a substantial chunk of your wages.

“I’m not surprised. She’s smart, makes me wonder why she went out with you.” You took the opportunity to lightly tease him although kept your tone completely deadpan.

“Oi come on! I’m being nice!” Jamie’s head shot up, ready to protest until he could see you were smiling and his shoulders loosened.

“I know I’m messing with you.” You replied “but seriously Talk to Ted. He’s usually at The Crown and Anchor. He’s a nice guy, Jamie. Give him a chance.”

“Fine. Thanks.” Jamie shrugged, looking like he’d rather do anything else. “If it works, can I have my old house back?”

“I’ll sort something…Goodnight Jamie.”You reached over and squeezed his arm “and good luck.”

***

Jamie’s reintegration was not going as smoothly as he’d hoped. With the rest of the team being somewhat reluctant to forgive his attitude from his last spell in at the club, Jamie was now getting the cold shoulder.

“Shit!” You jumped when you walked into you office. “How long have you been here? How did you get in?”

“No one likes me.” Jamie muttered from the spare chair opposite your desk. He didn’t answer your question but from the lost look on his face you didn’t feel like pushing it. He was slouched so far over your desk, he was practically lying on it, training jacket pulled up over his face and his chin in his hand

“Can’t say I blame them. You were kind of an arsehole last time you were here.” You placed your bag on the spot on the desk not occupied by Jamie.

“But like I’m actually trying and they’re… are all being dickheads about it.” He sat up suddenly, throwing his arms back as he slumped back into the chair.

“Again I don’t blame them.”

“Colin said I was the worm now.”

You cocked your head confused “I’m not going to ask…but I probably don’t blame him”

“Even the new lads giving me stick”

“Yeah, word travels, you’re… kinda infamous here now”

“Yeah I know…” Jamie clicked his tongue as if you were stating the obvious “but why do they hate me… when I’m trying?” He held out his hands and looked over at you, waiting for your clarification.

“Jamie. You got us relegated, you were a bad team mate and a bit of a shit…”

“Alright, alright.” Jamie shrugged “just you’re the only one whose nice to me…except maybe Ted but he don’t count he’s nice to everyone and Keeley but she’s my ex ain’t she? How can I make them like me? Get them all something?”

“It’ll take time Jamie… you can’t just make it up to them with gifts…”

Deciding you had to do to something to distract him, you lifted your bag up from the desk again and gestured for him to stand up which he did so reluctantly.

“Right okay, get your keys…I’m not having you moping around my office…let’s go for a walk or a drive or whatever and talk. It’ll help. I promise”

It quickly became a regular, daily thing. Jamie would come to your office as soon as the on field training was done. The rest of the team would head into the gym and he’d come wait in your office or out for coffee until most of the others had left and then he’d slip down to the gym to train alone.

You’d were slowly softening to him. He’d even started opening up a bit more, slowly elaborating day by day until he was talking more openly to you than you’d ever thought. Underneath all the cocky bravado, Jamie was a sweet, funny, guy who’d just fallen into the trap of thinking arrogance was a shield against anything the world could throw at him. You liked this side of him far far more and you couldn’t help yourself but think if he’d always been like this, like he was now, you’d have been friends a long time ago.

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing when Jamie told you about Ted’s alter ego act. Even more so that he was completely straight faced when relaying how weird it was. You could guess what Ted was doing, but Jamie seemed so serious he had you in stitches.

“Oh and I, erm, I spoke to the, the therapist lady…Doctor Sharon.” Jamie slipped in quickly, before he could change his mind over telling you. His eyes quickly shot over your shoulder to the aerial photograph of Nelson Road that decorated the wall behind your desk and focused hard on it as he waited for your response.

Jamie had no reason to doubt you’d be supportive but still he could have sworn the few seconds it took for you to reply was actually an hour. He worried in those few seconds that he’d overstepped the mark and made you uncomfortable with an over share or that you’d kick him out.

You couldn’t believed Jamie had just spent fifteen minutes ranting about ‘Led Tasso’ and completely neglected to mention that he’d spoken to the new therapist.

“Jamie…why didn’t you tell me!” You exclaimed, nearly knocking over the Richmond mug on your desk over your laptop. “That’s great!”

“Dunno” Jamie managed to drop his stare from the wall to you and shrugged “I erm, didn’t think it was worth mentioning. Keeley dragged me up there and I thought might aswell. Nothing better do to.”

“Course its worth mentioning. Getting help is the best thing you can do… it’s hard to take that first step and reach out. I’m proud of you.”

“Really?” For a second Jamie wondered if he’d hallucinated. He hadn’t heard that. Not those words in that order from anyone in a long time and Jamie liked the thought of you, of all people, being proud of him.

“Yeah! Going…and actually talking to a professional? That’s amazing! Did it help?”

Jamie let your response sink in before he nodded “Uh yeah I think so, spoke to her about like my dad and stuff. She’s really good.” He scratched his cheek quickly before dropping his hands to the table.

“It’s great, everything you’re doing. It’ll take time… but I’m just so happy you’re reaching out.” You leant over the desk and placed your hand over his and gave it a squeeze “you know you’ve always got me but talking to a professional is the best thing for you.” The second you’d retracted Jamie missed the reassurance provided by the warm contact.

“Knock knock” a voice called from the doorframe interrupting and Jamie felt his heart drop as one of his teammates stuck his head around “Hello!”

“Jan! Hi!” You beamed at him, getting up from your desk as Jamie tried not to let his disappointment show at the interruption. “Come in!”

“You ready? You’re always packed up early and ready to go so I thought I would come see” Jan slipped around the door and raised his eyebrows staring at your desk which, as he’d guessed, was already pretty much clear for the day. “Usually in the last hour you don’t do any work.”

You rolled your eyes at his assessment but didn’t protest. You very rarely got anything done in the last hour so tended to scroll on your phone, clear up and wait until you could leave.

“Alright?” Jamie attempted to greet the other man “Is anyone down in the gym, mate?”

Jan shook his head no, not conversing with the other man any more than needed and waited for Jamie to stand up and make his way to the door, stepping aside to let him leave.

“Um, thanks [Name], I’ll see you later yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll come see you later.” You offered “We can go to that restaurant for dinner. The Indian one I was telling you about the other day?”

Jamie nodded and shut the door quickly suddenly all too aware of his teammate watching him.

***

“Why are you friends with him?” Jan asked pointedly as you left the room a few minutes later and made your way to the car park.

“Jamie’s really trying. Trust me last season he would not have even acknowledged me” you laughed and pointed at yourself.

“I don’t like him.” Jan said, looking like you’d posed some sort of serious question before he offered you a sweet from the bag he was holding out “Left you the red ones.” He glanced back into the bag “Well most of them!”

“Be nice!” You jokingly punched his arm before thanking him for leaving your favourites “Jamie’s trying not be a twat…but It’s hard for him. He’s had years of practice.”

Jamie watched you’d leave with the centre back from the open gym door. From your hushed voice, you were doing your best to keep quiet so he wouldn’t overhear but the ‘he wouldn’t have acknowledged me’ stung. Deep down he knew it was true, he hadn’t been nice to you, and you were understandably cold to him.

He’d find himself worried, wondering if you were with Jan, what if you no longer had time for him, what if he lost the one real friend he had. Although if Jamie was honest with himself, he’d liked you as more than a friend for a while.

A few days into his return to Richmond, he’d been unable to sleep. Worrying that the team hated him, would always hate him, was he this pathetic failure his dad said he was, would he ever be considered a talented footballer again or would he always just be a joke who put his ‘brand’ first.

He realised he’d didn’t want to call his anyone except you. He wanted to talk to you. You’d answered on the fourth ring and if you were annoyed at being woken at 1am, you didn’t sound it. You’d been concerned, asking if he was in trouble.

“No…I can’t sleep.” Jamie had said, almost ashamed to say anything more. He worried you’d think it was pathetic, a weak reasoning for calling, but at the same time hoped you’d pick up on the something left unsaid.

You did. “I know what you mean” you’d spoken, sleepily “you want a distraction? I can read to you if you like. My books so boring, you’ll fall asleep.”

Jamie had laughed and accepted your offer and settled in as you’d started to read some story.

When he woke the next morning, you were still on the other end of the phone. You were already awake but you must have stayed on the call with him.

‘Just in case’ you’d told him, the corner of your cheek twitching on one side.

It was the single most simple, caring gesture but it cemented it. In that moment he knew he was gone. You just knew him. When he needed to laugh, when he needed to talk and when he just wanted a distraction. (You’d never tell him how easy it was for you to tell).

The next time, hed offered to return the favour he’d read you the book Coach Lasso had bought him. He’d been reluctant at first but you’d persuaded him, encouraging him a little bit at a time and before you knew it, he’d read it cover to cover.

You were just a kind person, he told himself. You were like that with everyone. He’d see you excitedly trying some Nigerian food Sam brought in or attempt to speak Spanish to Dani, who would be thrilled and offer to teach you, he’d see you talk to Keeley, usually showing each other something on your phones and giggling.

Jamie would find himself analysing every conversation you’d had with him, where you like that with other people and for signs that maybe your feelings were mutual. He would run over everything in his head as he ran on the treadmill or worked on presses so much so that by the time he’d decided to just keep quiet, as he did every day, he’d have done several miles or lost count of the amount of presses he’d done.

Fuck it there was no way he could tell you. You were happy and you were his friend and he’d rather have you in his life as his friend than not at all.

***short time skip***

When Jamie had came into your office in a panic on Christmas Eve, asking you if you’d ever cooked a Christmas dinner and begging for you to help him cook one for his mum who would be visiting, you’d agreed against your better judgement. You’d cooked Christmas dinner twice. Once at University and once when your mum had a migraine and you had to finish off and now you were in Jamie’s house on Christmas Day making what he’d bought from M&S two days before into a Christmas dinner.

“I’m surprised you asked me. I thought you’d be inundated with offers.” You said, only half joking as you turned the parsnips in their tray. Jamie who was mulching the cranberries for the sauce like his life depended on it, just shrugged and muttered a ‘not really’. He wished he’d asked you to actually spend Christmas with him properly and not to do him a favour but doing so now would seem last minute and you’d already told him you were dropping in to the Higgins later.

As if on cue, your phone beeped from across the room and you swung the dish towel over your shoulder, not noticing Jamie staring as you flicked up to read Jan’s Whatsapp, watching your face for any signs. Trying to see if you’d added any little hearts next to his name or if you replied to him with twice as many X’s as you gave anyone else.

Ever since Jamie had realised he’d fallen for you, he’d became somewhat obsessed with trying to work out what was going on between you and his teammate. He’d never ask Jan directly. Having been on the receiving end of one of Jan’s blunt comments, Jamie didn’t want to risk hearing something he didn’t want to. With the team still giving him the cold shoulder more often than not, he considered asking Keeley. He’d seen you and her talking sometimes and wondered if it would be weird to ask his ex before realising if he did ask Keeley anything, there was the risk that Roy Kent would overhear and Jamie couldn’t imagine anything more embarrassing.

“Richard brought a girl to the Higgins’ party.“ you laughed, letting Jamie know what was happening “Jan just told me.”

“Of course he did” Jamie laughed “Not surprised. He’d bring a girl to training if thought he’d get away with it.”

“Thought that would have been you?” You teased back only to get an eye roll and elbow nudge in response.

After a few minutes, you walked around his kitchen to check the table was set and were surprised to see he’d done a decent job of it.

“I think you’re all set. I promise you can take all the credit. You just need to take the turkey out when she gets here and put the Yorkshires in. They’ll be done quickly so don’t burn them. Desserts are in the fridge.”

Jamie looked a little reluctant and you had to admit the idea of a footballer who regularly played in front of thousands of people being nervous about presenting a Christmas dinner to his mum was a little funny.

“It’ll be good. Trust me…oh wait!” Your face lit up as you suddenly remembered “I have a present for you!” Before he had the chance to respond you’d dashed out into the hall, retrieved the gift from beside where you left your coat and returned back and pushed it into his hands.

After making a show of rattling it to try sense what was inside, Jamie unwrapped it carefully. Your eyes focused in on his face looking for any sign, hoping he liked the gift and you’d hadn’t made things weird.

In the box was a pair of his boots, the same brand his mum had got him, like his first pair. Jamie lifted them out carefully, and turned them over in his hand to see them.

“They’re obviously not the exact pair but they’re customs, I asked Sam what brand they were and they don’t do the exact ones anymore but I found some guy online and…they’re pretty much the same…If you can’t wear them for games because of sponsorships or whatever, you can maybe use them for training or you can return them, i won’t be offended, I just…”

“Thank you.” Jamie was quiet, staring down at the boots before his eyes turned on you “this is the nicest present anyone has ever given me. I, um… thank you.” He repeated finding himself rendered somewhat speechless at what thought you’d put in and how you were clearly worried he wouldn’t like it.

“It’s nothing. I just wanted to do something for you…”

“It’s not nothing, I actually do really like them and I’m definitely wearing them. Next game. Thank you.” Jamie paused, his head was only filled with thoughts of how much he wanted to kiss you here in his kitchen, how much he wanted to ask you to stay with him, to spend the rest of the day with him, eating Christmas dinner with his mum and sharing the big box of Roses chocolates and watching any Christmas special just because and then dancing to whatever Christmas song came on, late into the evening.

“Actually I… I got you something too.”

“You got me a present?” Your eyebrows raised in a playful manner “It’s not like a signed picture of you or anything is it? Because if it is, it’s going on eBay.”

“No. Uh…two minutes alright?” Jamie left the room and returned a few minutes later, a poorly wrapped present in his hands. “Sorry about the shit wrapping.”

You laughed and unwrapped it, your face breaking out into a big smile as you found the present “no way!”“This is the coolest thing ever!”

A quiet, comfortable silence had fallen between the two of you over your FaceTime call, you’d just finished laughing about Jamie telling you how he broke into his schools tuck shop as a kid and stole six packets of malteasers. It should have been just a funny childhood anecdote shared with a friend and yet the comments you’d made a while ago itched at the back of Jamie’s mind. “You never asked me about myself, surprised you even remembered my name.” He’d gotten to know you since of course but he wanted to know more, he wanted you to tell him everything, like he was making up for looking through you before.

“Tell me something funny you did when you was kid” He asked before he could stop himself.

“Oh.” You shifted putting your phone down, thinking for a moment. “Ah okay I’ve got it!” You grinned “don’t laugh!” You made him promise.

“When I was a little kid, like I’m talking pre-primary school age, I had this cream cardigan, big daisies and red roses stitched all over it and I would wear it everywhere. I’d put it on to walk to school and cry when Miss Neil made me take it off, when I came home and my mum had to wash it, I’d sit by the washing machine and then in the garden waiting for it to dry. I’d even wear it when it was summer and it was probably too warm, I wore it even when it didn’t go with my outfit. I was not a fashion forward kid”

Jamie started laughing and couldn’t suppress it even over your protests that he promised he wouldn’t.

“What happened to it? The cardigan? You still have it?”

You pouted half jokingly “It got left on a plane on the way back from Tenerife. I cried so much, my dad rang Gatwick and the airport in Tenerife but no one ever turned it in. I’d have outgrown it but I loved that cardigan so much” you said wistfully “I was so annoyed thinking of some random person with my cardigan… I’ve searched online but there’s nothing like it.”

“Understandable. It sounds peak nineties” Jamie remarked with a raised eyebrow

“Oi. It would be considered vintage now” you laughed “Teenagers on depop would pay mega money for that.”

You picked it up and held it against you before putting it straight on without checking for tags.

“Jamie…” You wrapped it tight and folded your arms around you “You remembered! I feel a bit bad for joking now”

“Don’t…don’t…you don’t need to say anything.” Seeing you happy hit him like a brick wall. All he wanted was you smiling at him like you were doing now. His voice was quiet and he could feel the tension, he needed to do something, anything to dissipate it, if he didn’t…Jamie feared he’d just come out with it. “You have the real deal anyway, you don’t need a photo” He settled for a joke.

“Thank you!” You beamed at him and got up to kiss his cheek. “This is the coolest present ever!”

How was it that he’d never been short on attention from women but a kiss on the cheek from you had the biggest effect on him like he was a teenage boy again the first time he fancied a girl.

“Thank you for mine. And for all this…You really sure you can’t stay? It’ll just be me and mum and she’ll fall asleep after Eastenders.”

“Call me when she does. If I’m up, we can FaceTime” you still had your cardigan on and slipped your coat on over the top. “Maybe we can watch one of the Home Alones or Elf together.”

“I love Elf. It’s like my favourite film after Ratatouille.” He grinned at you and you laughed as you reached up and hugged him.

“I know. Merry Christmas Jamie.” You kissed him on the cheek once more

“Merry Christmas, [Name],”

***short time skip***

The addition of Roy to the coaching staff had gone perfectly…except for the one pretty major hiccup of Jamie clashing with him daily and on one occasion, making his way to your place after training to ask if you thought he had bad hair prompting you to wonder what exactly was going on.

A few days later and you were anxiously waiting on the final whistle in the quarter final against Tottenham, Jamie had played incredibly. A goal from right outside the box and only a minute ago he’d scored what looked like it would be the winner. At the sound of the whistle, you were up on your feet and running down to the tunnel. The moment you saw Jamie you ran to him and pulled him into a hug, him lifting you up and holding you flush against him for a few moments.

“You were amazing!” You enthused, looking up at him as you separated. “That free kick in the first half was one of the best ever seen! And a last minute goal… that’s the best game I’ve ever seen you play.”

Jamie grinned on a high from the result, his performance and now you gushing about him, telling him so earnestly how good he was felt amazing. For a moment he could forget you were in the Nelson Road tunnel with a little over 25,000 people just outside and other players and staff milling around you.

“Thanks. My first goal was good wasn’t it?” He was standing so confidently. It had turned out being a prick worked for him…so long as he kept it to the pitch. You liked seeing him back to the player you knew he could be.

“That’s goal of month, maybe even the season!”You reached up and fixed his hair without even thinking “Go celebrate. you deserve this.”

“Come out with me… I mean come out with us, we’re going out, all of us, you should come” Jamie said all at once.

“Sure I’ll come for one!” You nodded.

Across the bar, you could see a girl who looked like she could have walked off the set of Keeping Up with the Kardashians lean over and talk to Richard who was responding by pouring her a glass of wine, no doubt feeding her some sort of cheesy chat up line.

Jamie slid into the booth beside you, and, with the slight contact your knee made against his, he felt himself relax.

“That’s probably the third girl I’ve seen him give his number to tonight” he commented and you laughed, pleased to see him join you in your people watching.

“Welcome to being on this side of the fence.” You leant in close to him so you could talk.

“She not your type?” You asked curiously. “She’s alive isn’t she?” You teased. Jamie hadnt dated since Keeley, or rather, since his stint on the show if you could call that dating. It did seem a little odd to you that he’d never once mentioned anyone despite your fast formed friendship and everything else he’d willingly shared with you.

Jamie shook his head. “Nah i’m…”. How could he tell you he didn’t want anyone else other than you. “I’m not…nah not really doing that kinda thing anymore.”

Even if he tried, Jamie doubted he could bring himself to show any enthusiasm for chatting up anyone else anymore. How could he consider anyone else when it felt like you were the only person in the room who saw him. You actually saw him for him in his worst moments and still wanted to be around him. How could he not want you?

Your heart was beating as you took in Jamie’s response. It was only a short response but it set the smallest of sparks in your stomach and you took a swig from the bottle of cider in your hand to distract yourself from running over what that meant. Was he not interested in anyone? Was there something he wasn’t saying?

Looking for something to change the subject before it became awkward, your eyes fell to your phone, flat against the table, and you started at the clock telling you it was 00:10. Somewhat grateful for the easy out, you picked it up and slipped it into your back.

“I’m going to head home, I have an early start tomorrow.”

“Can i walk you home?” Jamie felt a little dejected but wouldn’t pass up the chance to spend time with you just one on one. “I don’t mind leaving now?”

You were grateful and almost wished you could take him up on it. Maybe when you were alone you could ask him more about what he meant.

How badly you wanted to say yes. Yes to him walking you home and how you’d hope on the walk home you’d maybe have enough courage to invite him in and up to your bedroom. The experience with your ex still lingered and you never ever thought it would be Jamie Tartt of all people to make you want to throw your one rule out of the window.

But he wasn’t the Jamie of old. This Jamie was funny and caring, he’d bring you a tea every morning before training, he’d call you and he’d ask you to go do “intellectual stuff” with him when he was too self conscious to go himself. He’d run through ideas or tactics he had with you and even ask you to watch his highlight reels, not for vanity but because he wanted a fans opinion, he’d get you to come out to dinners with him when he was offered free food at restaurants and throughout all of this, you were just his friend, his loyal best friend, when you were internally screaming that you wanted him.

Realising you hadn’t said anything in a few seconds, you quickly found a response “you’re the best for offering but… Jan’s offered to drive me. He’s not been drinking so it’s fine. He’s dropping off Colin too if you need a lift, I can ask him? I’m sure he won’t mind?” You asked, hoping Jamie would accept and you’d just both get out at his or yours.

Jamie felt an uncomfortable twist in his stomach.

Of course. Jan. Were you going back to his? Did you talk to Jan the way you talked to him? What had happened to “I don’t date footballers” or was that just your way of telling him you’d never want him like he wanted you? There was a part of him screaming to retreat, make an excuse, go home, move on but Jamie didn’t want to do that. He wanted to ask you outright but he couldn’t push the words out. So he did neither and just sat there.

“It’s okay.” He said forcing a smile. “Someone has to look after Isaac. I’ll get a taxi”

“Are you sure? If you want we can-…”

“Hey. Are you ready?” the Dutch centre-back interrupted from the aisle between tables before Jamie could reply “Some of us need sleep.” He teased, pointing at Colin who was leaning to one side, almost asleep on Moe’s shoulder “and I don’t want him to sleep in my car. Last time I had to let him sleep on my sofa.”

You laughed and almost as if he heard his teammate Colin jolted awake muttering he was ready and reaching for his coat.

“Sure I’m ready.” You gave Jamie a hug as you stood up and he watched you go, wishing he’d gone with you the second you were gone.

Jamie had been on edge since it was confirmed that the semi final at Wembley would be against Man City. You knew it had to be related to his dad, to his old club, to how everything was building to such a point that he was wound so tight, you were surprised he hadn’t snapped like an elastic band.

In the fall out from the result to Man City and the altercation with his dad, Jamie had come to you before he’d boarded the bus. He hadn’t needed to say anything, it was all over his face. You could see it. Without even needing to ask, Ted had waved for you to get on the bus with the team. Usually the staff would travel separately if they went to games but in this moment, the coach didn’t question it.

You settled in beside Jamie and shifted so he could rest his head on your shoulder and carefully you reached around so you could put an arm around him too and used your other to take his hand and you would stay that way for the journey back to the training ground where the players had left their cars.

Even as you exited the coach, you could tell he was tense, and as you walked him to his car, you could barely hear him when he came out with it.

“Are you okay?” You asked him once he’d done explaining “I’m so sorry Jamie. Your dad really is a prick”

Before Jamie replied, he looked up and over you across the car park, his eyes caught those of his teammate.

“I, uh, I will be. Fresh air is doing me good. I think I need to go home and sleep.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Jamie. I’m not an idiot. You need to talk?”

He pushed a hand back through his hair and with one look in your eyes conceded with a nod

After driving back to his and getting into his house, Jamie dropped onto the sofa, not bothering to change out of the training kit he’d travelled in. You made him a decaf tea and took a spot next to him on his sofa and let him lean back on you as listened to him tell you everything

“Was that the first time you’d…”

“Hit him back?” Jamie’s eyes didn’t lift from the spot in the middle distance. “Yeah. Couldn’t really fight back as a kid.”

“I was going to say ‘seen him since you left…” you kept your arm around him, loosely tracing in a manner you hoped was soothing. “But I’d guess same answer.”

Jamie lifted his head off your shoulder for a second. “Erm…” His dad had contacted him a few times whilst he’d played for City. Mostly asking for free tickets, to meet the rest of the team and to get tours of the ground. Jamie had given in reluctantly on the first one and skirted around the final two. “Yeah… I guess he wasn’t arsed about me playing for Richmond. Cant brag about me if I’m in the Championship and he can’t be fucked getting the train down to London”

“Jamie.” You tried “you deserve so much better…He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.” You reassured him “you’ve been amazing these past few months Jamie. The best you’ve played. I know you probably wouldn’t want him at Richmond but still…his loss”

“Only got him the tickets to get him off my back and he didn’t even fucking support me. Went in the City end. Don’t know what I was expecting”

You imagined that must have stung for him. His dad feigning an interest just to turn around and support the team playing against his son. His old club, to add insult to injury.

“How do you feel now?” You asked cautiously. “Must have been hard for you to stand up to him…given how long he’s been…like that for?”

“I mean… shit because he’s my dad but he doesn’t act like he is, but like…I don’t regret it or anything…I just got fucking shit of it yknow…slagging me off, the club off…putting me down in front of everyone…and he’ll show up next time, if we get promoted he’ll be after tickets again…”

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t get near. You never have to deal with that again Jamie. You shouldn’t have had to take it back then and you don’t now”

“Thanks.” He added on “For… not just staying here but…for like always having time for me and that.”

“I’ll always have time for you Jamie.”

***a few weeks later***

The yearly charity gala had come around fast and unlike last year, you had actually looked forward to it this year. In the weeks leading up to it, you’d picked out a new outfit including new shoes.

Jamie had agreed to pick you up, asking you the second you’d said you were going and you’d agreed. Since you’d spent the night at his, completely platonically, Jamie’s already overwhelming feelings towards you had grown even more and you showing up to a charity gala with his teammate was the last thing he wanted and even though he’d spent the entire day telling himself this wasn’t a date, he still felt nervous as he rang your doorbell.

The second you opened it, he couldn’t help but break out into a big smile “You look… really good.” He nodded “this new?”

“Thank you” you accepted his compliment, nodding as you stepped aside to let him in “So do you. Not auctioning yourself off tonight?”

“Nah I’m not feeling up for it this year.”

Your eyes scanned his suit before realising his tie was slightly off “Can I?” You pointed at it.

You waited for him to nod before stepping in to fix his tie, before realising it needed a re-do.

“You know I’ve not had to wear a tie since school, but I reckon I could do a better job of it than this.” You joked, pulling the knot by his neck and re opening the fabric.

“You wore your tie? Don’t think I went a week without forgetting mine.” Jamie laughed.

“I was Deputy Head Girl.” You felt a little bit red, like suddenly you were back at school being paired with the popular boy for a project. “Kinda had to.” You looped it around before sliding it into place.

You shook the thought from your head. This was Jamie. Your friend. He could date anyone he wanted, why would he go out with someone normal and ordinary.

Jamie watched you in concentration for a few seconds before he couldn’t help himself.

“He’s punching going out with you, you know” the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He couldn’t help himself. Jamie didn’t mean it, at least, he didn’t mean it as it sounded. Jan was fine and of course he would be your exception to your rule. He seemed like he’d be your type. Still it stung. He wasn’t used to not getting the girls he liked…but maybe he should have expected it. You weren’t interested in the fame that attracted girls to athletes normally so of course you wouldn’t want him. You probably liked Jan because he was honest, funny and spoke three languages rather than the money and fame.

You stopped what you were doing, hands still on his tie, confused.

“What are you on about?”

“Yknow…Jan. You’re way too fit for him.”

“I’m not going out with Jan.”

You made sure it was centred before letting go of the fabric and suddenly aware of your close proximity, you stepped back.

“He takes you home and stuff…I figured you two were.”

“Shagging?” You came straight out with it, eyebrows raised

“Well…yeah?” He shrugged. “Ain’t you with him?”

Who’d have thought it. Jamie Tartt, who you’d considered the biggest arsehole you’d ever met a few months back, now being protective over you. It was weirdly quite sweet. Truth be told, you’d warmed to Jamie. A lot. If anyone had told you that last season you’d have thought they’d gone mad. When he’d left Richmond, you’d never even expected to see him in person again, let alone be friends with him.

“Jan’s just a friend…Didn’t realise anyone had noticed…also… surprised you remembered my…thing about footballers”

“I’m glad you’re not with him cause, yknow he’s…”

“Are you going to call someone else a prick?” Your head tilted to the side, hair falling with it. “Because if you are, that’s pretty fucking ironic.”

Jamie opened and closed his mouth, ready to reply when he saw you were half smiling.

“I’m messing with you...again” you teased and Jamie remembered the conversation he’d had with you outside the hotel in Manchester. Only this time you were looking at him differently. Back then you were looking at him like he was lost, now he’d swear you were… almost looking at him with affection.

“Nah, hes… he’s alright yknow just he’s not…” Jamie paused. He couldn’t say ‘not good enough’ because if Jan wasn’t the type of footballer you’d date, Jamie knew he definitely wouldn’t be. “Not who i picture you with.”

“Who do you picture me with?”

You were looking up at him, genuine interest on your face like you were waiting on a serious answer.

“I, uh, I don’t know.” The twisting in his stomach had been replaced and now the weight of relief, finding out you weren’t actually with Jan had lifted he didn’t know exactly what to say. With other girls he’d never had a problem asking them out but you? It was always different with you. “Just someone else.”

“Jamie…what’s going on?” you reached up and gently tilted his face so you could look at him. In spite of your confident action, your heart was hammering against your chest.

He let out a deep breath, eyes flickering over you for a moment, before he came out with it

“When I thought you were going out with Jan Maas. It was driving me mad.”

“Why?”

“I…I guess maybe I was jealous or something?”

“Thought you didn’t get jealous.” You’d heard all about his escapades with other women via the press and via various clips people had sent you of him on his TV show.

“I don’t not normally …” Jamie played with the cuff links absentmindedly. He sighed and looked down and then back up at you “I don’t wanna be like that anymore…I just,” he paused.

“Look” you said again “whatever you want to say… you can tell me…”

Jamie didn’t know what was holding him back. “I want to be the kind of guy you’d go out with, i don’t wanna disrespect you, and like I don’t want to ruin us being mates but…I really, really like you.”

“Jamie.” You laced your hand with his, feeling a swelling in your chest “I wish you’d told me sooner…You already are…you are the kind of guy I’d go out with.”

“What?”

“You are…the type of guy that I’d go out with.” You repeated with a reassurance in your voice “How could you not be? You’re sweet, you’re funny, you make me laugh…you listen…”

Jamie felt his heart hard against his chest, barely able to let your words sink in. “So if I asked you out? you’d go out with me?”

“Of course I will.” You squeezed his hand gently and as his shoulders relaxed and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as he dropped his forehead to yours.

“I can’t believe Jamie Tartt was worried about asking me out. You’ve been out with like models and stuff…and it’s me that you were worried about.”

He sighed “Yeah but that’s why I like you…cause you’re you.”

Come on. Let’s go to this auction.”

“Together yeah?”

“Of course. Good job your shirt matches my outfit…or you’d have to change” you teased.

Cue when you walked in hand in hand, Jamie was greeted by about half the team congratulating him on you two finally getting it together, including Jan who’d found it hilarious that Jamie had thought something was going on between you too.

***

Jamie had, with the best intentions, planned a perfect evening. A few days after you’d accepted him asking you out, he’d booked a reservation at restaurant he knew you’d like as a surprise knowing that it was one you’d always walked by and remarked it looked nice but never got around to trying it .

Things had not gone as planned.

After you’d arrived at the restaurant, you’d found out they’d closed due to a leak in the kitchen, you’d suggested going to a local bar and had lasted all of fifteen minutes before a drunk man in a too tight t shirt had knocked his pint over you and staggered off without apologising much to your ire. Jamie had wanted to go after the man and tell him to apologise but you’d just wanted to leave. Only ten minutes after leaving, Jamie had been approached by a group of kids looking for pictures and autographs and only a few seconds later, the skies opened and despite trying to huddle under a canopy of a nearby, closed cafe, you got soaked. Jamie, whilst taking photos with the young kids gave you a mouthed sorry but you told him to carry on knowing it would make the kids day.

Once he was done, he jogged back over to you, now shivering slightly and offered you his coat as you ran back to his

“You look really fit in my stuff. You should keep them.” Jamie remarked as you flopped down next to him on the sofa, now wearing a oversized tee and joggers that he’d pulled out for you to wear whilst your actual outfit was in his washing machine.

“Sorry the date was shit.” He added on as he ran a towel over his damp hair.

“Could have been worse” you shrugged with a smile as you dried off your own hair. “I’ve had worse dates.”

He let out a sigh and laid back on the sofa “I just wanted to take you out some place dead nice.”

“Jamie...that’s so sweet but you don’t have to. I just like being with you.” You shifted closer to him and scooted under his arm to rest on his chest. “I don’t care if it’s at a restaurant or like this…”

“I promise we’ll go out somewhere proper next time.” He leant down and kissed you softly. Dating you made Jamie felt like he’d finally got everything he’d ever wanted, and he was kicking himself for not asking you out the second he realised he had feelings for you.

“I could do that all day” You muttered against his lips as you separated briefly.

He placed a hand on your cheek and brushed your hair back before kissing you again. “Don’t think we could do this in the restaurant.”

You smiled against his mouth “well we could but probably wouldn’t be allowed back…”

“Maybe we can go back when they’ve fixed the leak and try?” Jamie made a joke and you playfully swatted him before kissing him again.

“Oh, Im holding you to that…”

***

Dating Jamie was so easy. Much easier than you’d thought. It was just like it was when you were friends but he’d always be taking your hand or wrapping an arm around you or kissing you…and of course you’d spend the night together rather than driving home after meeting up. When people had said date your best friend you’d never actually thought it could be possible.

Any fears or ghosts of your past that lingered over the bad experience with your ex were soon quashed by Jamie. Before you’d got together, you’d found it somewhat bittersweet that it was the former ladies man that you’d fallen for after swearing off dating footballers but now that you woke up to him every other morning and got to see him being the absolute perfect boyfriend to you, it just made sense.

So much so that eventually you’d caved and told him the name of the player you’d went out with before and Jamie had been thrilled to learn your ex was a goalkeeper and had made a promise to you he’d score against him.

You’d found it adorably sweet in the moment and incredibly hot when he followed through with his promise not once but twice, securing a brace and a win in the same game and making a big show of pointing at you and blowing a kiss into the stands. He’d almost been late in the next morning.

Jamie knew he loved you. Maybe it had started when you’d given him that chance in Manchester. You didn’t have to. If you’d told him to piss off, Jamie wouldn’t have blamed you but you hadn’t. You’d seen something in him, maybe believed in him deep down and now he was a better man, in part due to you.

The final game of the season was a whirlwind of emotions and knowing he’d be nervous for the game that could earn Richmond promotion back into the Premier League you’d snuck into the tunnel to see him just before he went out

“Good luck today babe.” You leant up and kissed him gently. “No matter what happens. I’m so proud of you, the player you are and the man you are.”

“Thanks” his eyes met yours “I, uh could have never done it without you.”

“Course you could. The talents all yours”

“I mean the…” Jamie paused, before looking at your shirt. He turned you around. “You’re wearing my shirt” he grinned at you and held up your arm so he could twirl you and see his name on your Richmond shirt. “Looks good on you”

“Course I am. Who else’s shirt would I wear.” You leant in and kissed him once more before the sound of the rest of the team approaching signalled it was time for you to go join the rest of the fans in the stands. “Smash it for me babe.��

Upon the final whistle, the coaching staff and bench descended on to the pitch to celebrate and you couldn’t help yourself.

You ran down to the barrier, dug into your bag to flash your work lanyard at a steward and ran on yourself, calling out to Jamie as you approached.

He caught you as you jumped into an embrace, quickly asking if he was okay after he was fouled in the lead up to Richmonds penalty. Jamie nodded.

“Yea yeah I’m fine babe. I’ve never been happier.” He looked breathless, a mixture of excitement, energy and adrenaline from the game.

“I love you Jamie.”

He kissed you deeply, passionately, caught up in the moment and not caring about the thousands of surrounding people, happy to be celebrating with you and the team.

“I love you. Next year I’m going to win you the whole thing”

#jamie tartt x reader #Jamie Tartt imagine #Ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfiction #Jamie Tartt #Jamie Tartt fanfic

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danistartt · 2 years ago

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Homesick- Jamie Tartt

pairings: jamie tartt x reader, roy kent, ted lasso warnings: none. ithink other than language about: request!! jamie tartt is homesick

Jamie has rarely been hesitant to leave for a game.

But there’s something sick at the pit of his stomach when he has to say goodbye to you today, even when you assure him that it’s for so, so little time that it won’t matter. That he won’t miss you with all the excitement of a match. You set your palms against his cheeks and urge his attention to you, tired determination widening your droopy eyes when you tell him that you’re proud of him, sadness angling your features as you apologize for not being able to be there in person to cheer him on.

He smiles and thinks that he believes you.

There’s a painful tug at his heart when he has to leave for real this time, treasuring the warm line your marriage finger grazes along the lobe of his ear. He kisses you, opening his eyes too soon when he pulls away and catching a glimpse of you at your sweetest: still half-submerged in his affection, face softer than he’s seen it.

You are raw in the morning, still a little rumpled from your bed and an inch away from sleep. You got up early for him today. Let your forehead bounce against the passenger window so you could say your farewells face-to-face. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a person care about him like that. Sacrifice even the little things with great pleasure because it’s him.

“You guys’re gonna do great,” you murmur, arms tight around his neck. You squeeze once more before pulling back, giving him a happy, sleepy smile that he takes with him. “I’ll have a celebration ready when you lot get back.”

“Can’t wait,” he tells you with a cheeky wink, watching the amusement in your eyes wake a little bit more.

“Roy’s giving me the stink eye.”

“That’s just how he looks, babe,” he defends. “‘Nd if he’s lookin’ at anyone, it’s me.”

“No,” you say. “He likes you now, Jamie.” The way you say his name is so lovely. All curved and soft and smooth with love. You stifle a yawn and pull him in again. “I’ll see you soon. Behave, okay? I promise I’ll be watching the game on the telly.”

“I always do,” he defends.

“Roy’ll tell me,” you remind playfully. “I think he might write complaints down when you get a little too cocky.”

“I promise,” he gives in.

“You’re going to do amazing,” you tell him again, fully believing it.

“You know it.” He pecks the skin below your eye, finally walking toward the bus.

Roy grunts at you in greeting once Jamie’s gone inside, arms crossed in front of his chest. Ted yells a hello. Beard nods. You wave, continuing to stand in the parking lot until the bus is gone.

Jamie worries he’s ill an hour before the game.

You’re busy with the seminar you couldn’t miss and he doesn’t want to tell anybody, but he doesn’t have to with the team he has.

“Jamie, wanna come on over and have a chat?” Ted asks him, smiling.

Jamie shrugs, feeling like lead weighs him down when he stands.

Ted leads him into a hallway and rocks on his heels expectantly. “Y’wanna tell me what’s wrong, or do you want me to guess?”

Jamie scrubs a rough hand down his face. “I dunno, coach.” Ted furrows his brows. “I’ve never…” He sighs frustratedly. “I dunno what it is.”

“Do you not feel well?”

“I feel off.” Jamie shrugs, frustrated. “Like I forgot to do something. I’m all tingly and shit.”

Ted hums. “You a little homesick? I felt a helluva lot like that the first few months I came here. Still feel it when I get into a car on the wrong side.”

“I’ve never missed it before. What’s there to miss? I’ve a bed at me hotel. I like leavin’ and seein’ all the sights.”

Ted scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe you don’t miss your house, Jamie.”

Jamie shakes his head in confusion. “I’m sorry, coach, what?”

“Home ain’t always a building, Jamie,” Ted explains, squeezing his shoulder before heading back inside the locker room.

Jamie stands, perplexed. “The fuck?”

“He’s fucking sayin’ you miss Y/N,” Roy barks out of nowhere. “You’ve never been at a game away from her. You miss her,” he explains. “It happens.”

“Why didn’t he just say that, then?” Jamie complains.

“Substance. Too obvious,” Roy shrugs. “Call her. Stop being fuckin’ ‘tingly,’ Tartt.”

Jamie is left alone once again, processing.

Ted called him homesick, which Jamie opposes. He couldn’t care less about the place where he lived. Everything in it was chosen by another person years ago, and the space is bland otherwise, with only one framed picture of the both of you hanging up on the living room wall.

Still, he damn well yearned to be back among his stupid, minimalistic furniture and monochromatic aesthetic. Why?

Roy said it was you and Jamie is inclined to agree. When he pictures his living room with his dumb couch, you’re laying on it. Your trinkets and colorful items allay impersonal corners. You’re making a wonderful mess in his kitchen. You’re softening clinical sheet edges. You’re the only warm thing that decorates his walls.

He misses you. He’s homesick for you.

He hates it when Roy is right (but he’s getting used to it), especially when it’s concerning something Jamie didn’t expect, something unfamiliar.

His phone pings, lighting up with your contact picture and a text message asking how he is.

He’s never had a home to miss, he thinks. He’s a little happy to have one. He’s elated it’s you.

#jamie tartt #ted lasso #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jaime tartt #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt reader insert #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt request #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt imagine

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whimsical-roasting · 1 year ago

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Jamie Tartt and the Five Love Language

THERES SO MUCH I COULD SAYYY and special thanks to @caapsiizzereads for helping me brainstorm some of these!! ugh just wanna love on the babyboy so much yknow??

TELL ME IF THERE'S MORE YOU CAN THINK OFFFFF

Words of Affirmations:

HE HAS A PRAISE KINK. ITS LITERALLYYYYYYY CANNON

Babyboy is so precious…… he knows how it feels not to get kind words, and so he just can’t help but give them out to you

“Woah, babe…your mind..” in a stunned manner when you go off about something you’re passionate about

“You’re everything to me,” he whispers at night as you fall asleep

Has a shared spotify playlist that you both can collab on, and it’s just songs (lyrics) that remind you of each other!! Jamie plays it when he’s heading to away games in the coach, and it makes him feel a bit calmer

Giving you ALL the praise and dirty talk during sexy time “you’re so fucking beautiful”, “you make me feel so so good” “holy fuck angel”

Sometimes just stares at you randomly with a goofy look and you’re like ??? what ??? what is it ?? did he realise i’m ugly or my nose is weird or wHAT !!!???!! and he’s just like, “you look like sunshine”, all smitten and shit

Kisses each feature on your body and says “my favourite” to every. single. one.

“I believe in ya!”

Desperately wants to make sure you guys have a couple’s song - something meaningful that describes how he feels about you that he can play for you both… like Sweet Nothings by Taylor Swift/Hearts Don’t Break Around You by Ed Sheeran/Simple Things by Miguel

Plays that song after fights when the silences are still tender; when you’re drunk and slow dancing in the kitchen at 3am; when you’re getting dressed for a gala, and he’s fixing his hair, and you’re putting on your earrings

“I adore you, sweetheart”, “you look like a pretty flower”, “me heart fuckin sings seeing ya”

Physical Touch:

Absent-mindedly plays with your hair

Nuzzles face into your neck and then peppers kisses on your shoulder

Massages/scratches your scalp cause he knows how good it feels when you do it for him

Traces patterns on your knee and thighs if you sit next to him

Gotta be holding hands at all times

Pinky promises are sacred… probs locks pinkies and then kisses his thumb to “stamp it”

Slapping his ass as he walks past you, and so he’s always covering his butt, complaining “babeeee you can’t do thattttt”, but then he’ll be all pouty if one day you don’t slap his ass when he walks past… “do you not love me anymore?”

He will randomly come up to you, wrap your arms around you, getting as close as possible and tuck his face between your shoulder and neck, saying that he’s recharging

Always gotta be touching some part of you.. it’s the only way to live tbh

Gift Giving:

Remember when Jamie was like, “can’t I just buy them all PS5s as a sorry??” “what better thing to spend money on than love?“ LMFAOOOO babyboy :”) he means well

The amount of effort he put into Roy’s gift for Uncle’s Day <3

Jamie would fucking love getting you fancy, expensive gifts around big occasions (birthdays, holidays etc.)

BUT I think he’d also love getting you smaller gifts like… Sunday morning flowers, or stocking up on different kinds of herbal tea in his kitchen cause he knows sometimes you’re in the mood for a random cuppa on quiet evenings

Personally, someone like me loves cute tea cups/mugs, so I think buying two mugs to keep in his house cause “they’re so cute, and I wanted them for us” would make him so happy!! He doesn’t even use them all that much, but just seeing them in the cupboard makes him smiley

The kind to want matching outfits or colour-coordinated outfits - most def would buy you both matching sneakers (so would Isaac/most of the team with his S/O)

Gets you a ‘J’ gold chain and wears a gold one with your initial

If he sees some targeted ad on your insta or something for what you’ve searched up he’s like hmmm,,,,,,i might just,,,*add to cart*

Quality Time:

Wants to spend all his time with you!! Ofc he does!!!

Is happy to just sit in silence, stroking your calves he watches tiktok with your legs on his lap!! Esp if you’re like reading/doing work on your laptop

He just wants to be there yknow? And he tries not to be annoying but the little puppy can’t help but wanna talk and touch and, ultimately, annoy you

Tries to invite you to all his events? “Can me girlfriend come?”

Even the ones that aren’t for guests, “babeeee, what do ya mean you won’t come to Colin’s guys' night? I swear they’ll be fine with it…probably!!” “can I come to girl’s night with ya? I’ll let you paint me nails…come on.. Pleaseeee?”

Texts you periodically during the night regardless ahahaha

I like the idea of, “hey I gotta drive somewhere, and it’s gonna take me 30 minutes..can you talk?” whilst one of you is in the car and the other’s at home or, I dunno, has some time during their day

Date nightssssss every two weeks… OR if the season gets busy and he’s also exhausted from Roy’s trainings then SPECIFIC carved out time to be affectionate and date-y

“I’m so sorry, love, I know we had that reservation tonight, but I came home knackered and just crashed…” “Jaim, it’s okay-” “No, no, it’s not! I’m so fucking dead from training I don’t even get to take ya out anymore! What if- what if you wanted a picnic, huh!” “Baby, it’s okay, really.. How about we set up a picnic on the living room floor and order takeout? Something that Roy’ll let you eat, yea?” “I’m so fucking grateful for ya, angel, I swear”

He always wants you to watch him score a goal on FIFA cause he’s a child ahahaha… probably teaches you how to play and then pouts when you score as Obisanya

Wants to try out random hobbies with you - sip and paint cause “I’ll have an excuse to draw outta the lines”; knitting cause “Bumbercatch said it’s soothin, babe”; quick dry clay but he makes a big circular lump at first and grins at you “look babe!! I made a football!”

Acts of Service:

HIM TEACHING ROY HOW TO RIDE A BIKE

Makes you coffee once he’s back from his 4am training

Always offers you his jacket/coat

“I know this was stressing ya, babe, so I took care of it”

“Don’t worry, love, I’ve been practising this dish just for you.. I won’t burn it this time, promise”

Late night cravings???? McDonald’s fries and an Oreo Mcflurry?? He’s already slipping on his jacket and finding his keys (imagine how attentive he’d be with your weird ass pregnancy cravings omg)

ALWAYS opens doors for you... Probably yells “WAIT” when in the car with you just so he can jog out and open your door with a grin

Always down to carry your purse, puts it on his shoulder like it’s HIS despite having his lil bum bag across his chest

Nightime or morning routine, he probs has to get ready before you so he lays out your skincare for you. Probs adds toothpaste on your brush if he hears you getting ready to enter the bathroom

Probably the main one driving everywhere, but if you drive and need to fill up your tank, he’ll be the one to get out and fill it then pay,,, he’s almost offended that you say you’re capable of doing so yourself, “babe, what am I here for?!”

Tries to eat in accordance with your dietary requirements (e.g. I’m vegetarian) if you guys have date night - or he’ll always have like mouthwash and gum so he can kiss ya later without making you feel uncomfortable!!

“Ooh babe, they have the ravioli ya like and the vodka gnocchi!! Okay, you order the ravioli, and I’ll get the gnocchi and we’ll split, yea?” “Hey Jaim, can we order fries too?” “Fuck yea!”

#jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso x reader #jamie tartt #phil dunster #jamie tartt love languages #tell me moreeee #i didn't proof read so gl bae

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burnthoneydrops · 1 year ago

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Could you do a fluff Jamie Tartt imagine where the reader takes care of a drunk Jamie who forgets that they've been dating for months and thinks they're back in their crush phase after they and the boys went out celebrating a win?

Drunk in the Back of the Car (j.t. x fem!reader)

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 654

warnings: language, alcohol

a/n: here you go love! i hope you like it and requests continue to be open!! (also first time writing for jamie so pls be kind lol)

The early 2000’s pop music blasting through the speakers was about to make your brain explode. The boys were celebrating a great victory in their match earlier that day and had all decided to crash this club that Colin had found. The flashing lights and sticky floors were slightly off-putting but the boys just wanted to celebrate and Jamie had insisted you came along too. Keeley and Roy were somewhere, probably at a table stuffed in a corner as Roy hated anyone spotting him. Isaac immediately bought a round of drinks upon entry and thus started the flow of alcohol. You were just glad that you and Jamie had agreed that you would drive home so he could properly celebrate.

Speaking of your boyfriend, he was nowhere to be seen. A group of you had been gathered in front of the bar, chatting and drinking and dancing- though somewhat badly- and then as the night aged on and people found different things that piqued their interests, the group dispersed into smaller groups across the club. You were clumped together with Colin and Sam, chatting about the opposing team from the earlier match, while Colin interspersed some lyrics from the rap songs that were playing overhead. While laughing at Colin doing this weird dance while rapping, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Your boyfriend is smashed,” Roy commented as he held Jamie under his arms. He was clearly having a hard time standing on his own and it seemed like Roy had dragged him from wherever they were previously stationed.

“I’m fine grandad,” Jamie retorted, though slurred and he clearly had to put a lot of thought into the short sentence.

“I’ll take him,” you smiled at Roy, silently thanking him for making sure Jamie got back to you. He nodded and passed Jamie over to you before he walked off, probably going back to find Keeley again. You grabbed one of Jamie’s arms and threw it over your shoulders, leaning his weight into you. “Looks like I’d better get this one home. Enjoy the rest of your night lads”. Sam and Colin say their goodbyes before going to find the other boys.

“Woah, you better be careful there. I’ve got a girlfriend and I don’t think she’d like you touching me like this,” Jamie tries to stand up straighter to get away from you, but almost immediately tips back over.

“I am your girlfriend,” you laugh.

“No way,” Jamie says quietly, in an ‘I can’t believe it’ type of way.

“Come on Jams, let’s get you home”.

Despite the copious amounts of effort it took to get Jamie through your front door- which included him almost throwing up in the back seat of your car- you finally got him in bed in a semi-comfortable position. Once you were sure he wasn’t going to throw up in the bed, at least long enough for you to get ready for bed, you headed to the bathroom to take your makeup off and change out of your clubbing outfit.

“Y/N?” You heard Jamie call from the bed.

“Yes love?” you question, sticking your head out of the bathroom doorway.

“How’d you get into my house?”

“I have a key Jams,” you laugh.

“Did I give you that?” He tilts his head.

“How sloshed did you get Jamie?” You move closer to him, sitting down next to him on the bed.

“Oh my god I’ve got Y/N in my bed,” he whispers more to himself.

“I’ve been sharing a bed with you for the past two months, love,” you remind him, moving his hair away from his sticky forehead.

“Holy shit, no way,” he mutters before passing out again. You laugh at his antics and go back to the bathroom, finishing your nighttime routine before grabbing some water and aspirin for the morning. You were so going to make fun of him tomorrow for this.

#jamie tartt #ted lasso fanfiction #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #ted lasso #roy kent #keeley jones #sam obisanya #jamie tartt imagines #jamie tartt fluff

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 8 months ago

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I'm Here, I'm Here

Request: Could you do a fic with either Roy or Jamie x reader and the reader is having a hard time with grief after losing their dad?

Jamie Tartt x Reader 0.7k words Warnings: Grief, mentions of a deceased dad, established relationship

A/N: Ahh my first Jamie Tartt fic! I hope it came out well ❤️

“Babe? Where are you?”

Jamie’s pretty face appeared in the doorway. His eyes softened when he saw you standing over the sink, sponge in hand. You’d said you were going to the kitchen to do the dishes from dinner. However, it was clear from the plates still stacked in the sink that you hadn’t even begun the task. Instead, you were staring out the window, not quite seeing the fading sunlight that lit the garden in that soft way you usually liked.

With a tiny sigh, Jamie approached and gently wrapped his arms around your waist. Instinctively, you leaned into his familiar touch, dropping the sponge and closing your eyes. For the past month, he kept walking on scenes like this: laundry on your lap, unfolded; dinner ingredients on the countertop, unopened; television in front of you, unwatched. Just you, frozen, lost somewhere in your own thoughts.

It would get easier, everyone assured you. Day by day, things would start to feel better. But you’d begun to doubt that. It seemed that no matter how much time passed between your dad’s funeral and now, your entire body still felt the loss just as heavily. You were a statue, frozen and made of stone.

The only person not telling you that things would get better was Jamie. Your boyfriend of about three years didn’t say too much about the situation, but he held you. He’d held you through the days of endless crying, listening to you attempt to bargain with a god neither of you were quite sure was listening, and now he held you through the endless silence.

His arms were so familiar after three years together: firm, tender, strong, gentle. He gripped you tight and pressed your back against his chest so you could feel his beating heart. I’m here, it said over and over. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.

He leaned his cheek against the top of your head, simply engulfing you in his warmth, as if he were trying to thaw you out. Never able to stay still, he eventually began to sway back and forth aimlessly, creating an uneven rhythm that clashed with the steady one his heart created.

“I’m sad,” you finally croaked out. You wrapped a tentative hand around his forearm, afraid that if you moved to suddenly, he too would disappear forever.

Instead, he kissed the top of your head. “I know,” he murmured. He sighed, a heavy sound that you could feel in your whole body. “I miss him too, babe.”

That lump in your throat that never seemed to go away hardened. Jamie had loved your dad; with his own father being what he was, and his mother and Simon back in Manchester, Jamie clung to your family like a life preserver. He and your dad had become best friends quickly, always chatting at family dinners or going out for a pint. He made sure your dad and his mates always had tickets for any match they wanted, and all of Nelson Road knew to treat Jamie’s girlfriend’s dad like royalty. It made your dad happy to be so doted on by a famous footballer, and it made him even happier to see you so in love with such a kind young man.

Jamie didn’t say it- probably because he didn’t want to take away from your grief- but he was heartbroken. He, too, had moments of silence where the loss hit him like a punch to the gut and he had no choice but to simply freeze. He’d find things around the house that made him think of your dad- a photo of your family, the book he’d suggested Jamie would like, a bottle of his favorite beer, the kind Jamie actually hated but always made sure to have on hand just for your dad- and would become as still as a statue.

The sorrow hit even harder when he saw you like this, looking like a lost child. He wished he had the words to make everything better, but he knew they didn’t exist. And even if they did, he was pretty sure he’d say them all wrong and somehow make you feel worse; Jamie Tartt wasn’t the most eloquent speaker, and he knew it. So instead, he loved you the best way he knew how.

He folded the unfolded laundry. He made the unmade dinners. He put a movie on the unwatched telly. And now, he walked you to the kitchen table and let you sit down before turning back to the sink to handle the unwashed dishes.

And after that, he would lead you to your bed, where he’d simply hold you and let his heartbeat tell you over and over again, I’m here.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt fluff #ted lasso fanfiction

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hopefulromances · 1 year ago

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I Feel You - Jamie Tartt x demi!Reader

A/N: Hello to my faithful followers! I'm sorry I've been so inactive for the past couple weeks I've been down in the dumps and sorta uninspired.

But the crazy thing is I've hit 1k followers! What? How is that even possible! I'm planning to put together a little celebration soon but for now, here's an unrequested fic that I wrote featuring a demi!reader on the acespec!

See y'all soon!

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns), Drunkenness, I think that's it

OooO

Jamie had to be the lamest footballer in the world. It was a Friday night and instead of going out and finding a club to get drunk at, he was sitting on his couch reading a bloody book. Fucking Roy Kent had gotten to him, that bastard. He wasn’t expecting anyone to come by so when there was a knock on the door, Jamie was surprised.

There on his doorstep was (Y/N). Pacing, wobbly, back and forth seemingly trying to take off her shoes without sitting down.

“(Y/N)?” He opened the door, turning on the porch light.

(Y/N) was someone Jamie had been friends with for a long time. Longer than anyone else, maybe. She’d grown up with im in Manchester, and gone to college in London when he got called up. When he was busy being a prick and cutting people out of his life, she stayed, refusing to be cut. And here she was, drunk on his doorstep.

She spun in spot, her eyes lighting up when she saw him. “Jamie!”

She fell forward onto him in a sloppy hug. Jamie caught her in his arms, realizing with a chuckle that she was beyond wasted. He hoisted her up so she was tucked into his side so he could properly assist her while closing the door and turning off the lights.

“Jamieee,” She sang, sweetly, pulling Jamie with all her might to get them to topple over.

“At least one of us had a good night,” Jamie muttered.

“It was ‘meh’,” (Y/N) admitted, shrugging. “Felt all wonky all night.”

Jamie pulled her into his bathroom, sitting her down on the toilet seat. She slumped back, as it finally feeling her exhaustion. He filled up his water cup and handed it to her, having to help her put her hand on and grip the cup.

“Drink,” he instructed.

“It’s like, I’m over here, looking and waiting,” she continued, pausing for a second to glug down a large sip of water. “And everyone else is over there. Falling in love, dating, kissing, and I’m just,” she made a raspberry with her mouth.

Jamie found a cloth and the bottle of makeup remover she’d left at his house one time, dabbing some of the serum on the cloth. He walked back over to her, kneeling so he could be at eye height with her.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, starting to dab at her face like she’d taught him.

“Why can’t I feel that, Jamie?” She whined, leaning into his touch. “Why can't I just find a dude and just kiss him? What’s wrong with me?”

Jamie frowned, pausing his dabbing for a moment. “What do you mean, darling?”

“I just mean,” now she was frowning too. “I try to go on dates, hook up with random guys, and I just feel… nothing.” Jamie, pursed his lips, moving the cloth gently over her face. Her eyes fluttered closed as he swished over her eyelids delicately. “But I’m so tired of waiting… I don’t want to settle anymore.”

“You shouldn’t have to settle,” Jamie agreed softly.

“But I also don’t want to be alone forever,” she opened her eyes and Jamie stopped washing her face.

“You won’t be alone forever,” he droned. This was a conversation they’d had before. She was afraid she’d never find the one, and Jamie reassured her that she would. Of course, she would. She was beautiful, and funny, and headstrong in all the important ways.

“I’ve only ever liked one person, in my whole entire life,” she hiccuped. “And he…”

“He what, love?” Jamie went to stand but she grabbed onto his pants, stopping him from moving away. He looked down and she looked very small. He’d never seen her look so small before.

“He’s been my best friend since we were kids,” she muttered, looking up at him. “When I look at him, I feel this flutter in my chest. And no matter how hard I try to feel that with other people, I just can’t.” She looked between his eyes. “I can’t.”

Jamie could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his blood rushing in his ears. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? She couldn’t be. Either way, she needed to go to bed.

“You… uh… you can stay here tonight, yeah?” He took the cup from her hand and filled it back up. “I’ll go put out some sleep clothes in the guest bed.”

She looked disappointed when he didn’t acknowledge her rambling, but she nodded, taking a pitiful sip from her cup of water. He watched her a moment before pounding on the sink and walking out to grab a shirt for her.

As he set up the bed for her, his mind was racing through what she had said. The best friend from childhood that she’d liked forever. It couldn’t be him… could it? Not after everything he’d put her through.

When he walked back to the bathroom, she’d fallen asleep on the toilet. Chest rising and falling steadily, her eyelashes resting against her cheeks. His chest fluttered as he looked at her, a gentle smile coming over his lips. He slid one arm under her legs and another around her back, resting her head on his shoulder. She curled into him immediately, nestling her nose into his neck.

He brought her to the room, he’d set up maneuvering her carefully so he could take her clothes off. She’d changed in front of him before, felt comfortable around him, but he still was careful of his hands and quickly putting on more comfortable clothes.

She mumbled incoherently as he laid her down and pulled the covers over her. His hand rested on her cheek for a moment, her face slightly flushed from her night out. He was tempted to get in the bed with her, keep her safe and warm in his arms but he swatted that thought away quickly. Instead he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple.

The next morning when he woke up, he went to check on her, but she wasn’t in the room. Then he heard humming and the smell of bacon filling the air. He padded down the steps and saw her in the kitchen, cooking and sipping on his coffee like she owned the place. He shoved his tongue in his cheek to stop himself from laughing as he watched her.

She spun around, dancing to the song in her head, yelping and freezing when she saw him.

“Oh!” She sighed, throwing her hand over her heart when she realized it was him. “Jamie! You scared me.”

“Scare you? This is my house, you know,” Jamie laughed, leaning across the island.

She rolled her eyes, sliding a cup of coffee across to him. “Two creams, one sugar, yeah?”

Jamie looked down at the coffee, knowing Roy would kill him if he took a sip. ‘Your body is a temple’ and ‘caffeine is a drug’ and whatever, but she was looking at him so sweetly there was no way he could say no to it. So, he reached down and took a sip.

“That’s it, yah,” it tasted perfect. No one else made his coffee like she did. “Do you know how you ended up here?”

She slowed her cooking for a second. He couldn’t see her face, she was turned facing the wall, but he saw her back tense just the slightest bit.

“Uh… I don’t remember, really,” (Y/N) answered. “Just woke up here… figured it was just where I thought I’d be safest.”

Jamie felt his cheeks heat up, trying to hide it by taking a sip of his coffee. “You, eh, were out with the girls?”

She turned around, sliding the bacon onto the two plates she’d set out. She was deep in thought, he could tell by the way she picked the skin off her lip, reaching up to pull a piece of hair out of her face.

“Yeah…” she whispered. “It was Larsen’s birthday. Wanted to go have a hot girl night. Find some guys to go home with.”

Ah. Now he got it. She’s gone out with her friends and they’d all gone home with guys and she was left alone. She was upset because she thought she was unwanted. He grimaced at her.

“Did Larsen ditch you again? I told you to stop hanging out with her,” Jamie comforted, reaching to grab a piece of bacon. (Y/N) didn’t answer, she just stared down at the greasy meat on her plate. “Oh, c’mon, (Y/N), you can’t really believe that because of one bad night that no one wants you.”

She furrowed her brow, shaking her head. “No that’s….” She looked up at him, looking back and forth between his eyes. “Do you really think that I couldn’t find one person to go home with?”

Now Jamie was confused. He pursed his lips, not sure how to answer.

“He was great. Attractive enough, I suppose, saying all the right things,” she mumbled, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “We chatted for a while. But I just felt… nothing.” Her fist open and closed as she fought the nervous energy. “He was kissing me, holding me, doing all the things that should have made me feel… something. But it was like… I felt nothing! It was like there was something blocking my brain from just latching onto something random.”

“He was… kissing you?” Jamie cringed as he said it. He wasn’t sure exactly why he’d said it and she looked at him like she was crazy.

“Yes, he was,” she scoffed, running a hand through her hair. “He wanted to do a lot more but I couldn’t feel it. I didn’t feel anything.” She rested her elbows on the counter, her head in her hands. “God, what is wrong with me? Every other person we went out with went home with whatever stranger they’d met that night. But me? I feel so… stunted.”

Jamie was surprised by her sudden admission. It wasn’t something he’d felt before, but he wanted her to feel the things he felt for her. The care and softness that he felt for her.

“I know I want it,’ she continued. “I feel it sometimes… for… one person. He knows me and I know him. And I try to get myself to get over it, to feel it for someone else. Anyone else, but no matter how hard I try. I just… can’t feel it.” She shook her head, pushing herself off the island. “Sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

Jamie stayed still for a moment, figuring out his thoughts.

“S’okay,” he finally responded. “I’m sorry you feel like that, you deserve to feel loved and wanted.”

Her eyes snapped back up to his, her cheeks turning red, spreading up to her ears. Jamie moved around to the other side of the island so he was right next to her, leaning against her side. She kept staring straight forward, her eyes turning shiny with unshed tears.

“You said… there was one person,” he implored, pursing his lips into a duck shape. “One person who you felt something for.”

She nodded, not speaking, brushing her eyes furiously.

“Who… who is that person,” he asked.

She let out a shaky laugh, cocking her head before looking up at him.

“I think you know,” she replied quietly, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. He looked at her, letting his hand slide down to intertwine with hers. Her breathing hitched and her chest started to heave. “Jamie, wait, please.” She stared at their entwined hands, scared that it was going to go away. “I can’t… I’m not like other girls. I can’t give you what you want, not right away, maybe not for a long time.”

Jamie shook his head, moving his free hand up to touch her face. “I don’t want that, all I want is to make you feel loved. All I want is for you to feel how you deserve to feel. And I’m willing to wait however long it takes, and to do whatever it takes to make sure that you feel that love.”

“Oh, Jamie,” she gasped out, reaching up to touch his face too. They stood in the kitchen, the soft morning light dappling in through the windows, holding each other's faces. He looked between her lips and her eyes. “Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“You can kiss me.”

His eyes were big and wanting as he looked at her. “Are you sure? Like really sure, like you aren’t just saying it to make me happy?”

“No, Jamie, I want it.”

The words scarcely left her mouth when he cut her off, pressing his lips to hers. And there it was. She felt it. She felt that electricity that her friends had talked about. It rocked through her, stealing her breath away as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, his coming to creep up her back, lifting her up slightly.

“Can you feel that, love?” he hummed, in between kisses. “Can you feel how much I love you?”

“I can feel it,” she responded, pulling back to look up at him. “I can feel you.”

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso show #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt fanfiction #fluff #angst #demisexual #demi reader #ace spec

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thetarttfuldickhead · 1 year ago

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The call connects and there’s Roy, seemingly back at his own house, seated on a grey couch and wearing a scowl dark enough to match his t-shirt and jacket.

Trent smiles, though carefully not too wide. “Hello Roy. Thank you for agreeing to this.”

Roy grunts. “Better you than any of the other wankers,” he mutters.

Trent makes an effort to hide his grin. Visibly gloating about having the sort of access to Roy Kent that other journalists – independent or disgraced or otherwise – can only dream of isn’t likely to get him the exclusive comments that he needs from Richmond’s head coach on today’s kerfuffle.

“So,” he offers smoothly, “what do you—“

He’s cut off by the loud bang of a door slamming shut on the other end and a startled fuck from Roy and then there’s Jamie Tartt’s head coming into view as it flops down on Roy’s lap. He must have thrown himself down onto the couch.

“It’s all such fucking bullshit, man,” Jamie pronounces dramatically as he – Trent’s eyebrows rise another inch – grabs Roy’s arm and pulls it over his chest, claiming half a cuddle. “Did you know—“

“I’m in the middle of an interview, you twat,” Roy barks, but he does not, Trent notes with increasing interest and incredulity, remove his arm.

“Since when do— ?” Lifting his head from Roy’s lap, Jamie blinks at the screen. “Oh! Uh. Hi, Trent! How you doin’, you good?” His grin is wide, easy, with no hint of embarrassment, and Trent finds himself smiling back. Jamie has always been charismatic, but the last few years have seen his swagger turn into a good-natured charm that’s surprisingly hard to resist.

“I’m fine, thank you, Jamie. And regarding the news this afternoon, how do you—“

“No,” Roy immediately says, shifting to push Jamie off his lap in spite of the younger man’s indignant protests. “He has no fucking comment. He’s not part of this conversation. He’s not even fucking here.”

“The fuck are you on about, mate, he can see I’m— “

“Go to the kitchen,” Roy interrupts. “Get me a whisky. If I have to listen to you complain about wankers on Twitter or split fingernails or whatever, I need a fucking drink.”

“You’re an arsehole,” Jamie tells him from out of the picture, but he doesn’t sound particularly upset. “I haven’t even got any split fingernails.” And then he must be off because he doesn’t say anything else and Roy turns back to Trent, glaring like he’s daring Trent to say it.

Trent, with equal parts cunning and self-preservation, says nothing at all. Waits.

Eventually, Roy’s shoulders drop a millimeter. He lets out a huff. “Jamie’s fucking needy, all right? He needs fucking hugs and shit and he turns into a moody bitch prima donna if he doesn’t get them, so.” He presses his lips together, having apparently said all he intends to say on the subject.

Trent had noticed Jamie’s fondness for hanging off anyone's and everyone’s shoulder during his season with the team. He hadn’t known and would never have imagined, though, that Roy would ever be willing to indulge the tendency, especially not to this degree. And that rather begs the question...

“Roy,” he says carefully. “You know that, if the two of you are—“

“We’re not.” And Roy closes his eyes, shakes his head. Opens them, looking resigned, but looking a little bit wry too. “Be less fucking weird if we were, wouldn’t it? But we’re not. It’s just… “ He pauses. Shakes his head again. “It’s Jamie. Just… fucking Jamie.”

“Except you are not,” Trent says, just to be clear, just because being a bit of an asshole is a habit, and fun.

“Except I’m not,” Roy growls, and looks like he’s about to add something more – something scatching and imaginatively insulting, Trent assumes – but then he lifts his head, turning towards someone offscreen. “What— ? Yeah, we’re fucking done. Bye, Crimm,” he adds, and then the screen goes dark as Roy abruptly ends the call.

“Bye, Roy,” Trent tells the silence. “I’ll just text you the questions, shall I? You can get back to me when you’re done giving Jamie Tartt a cuddle.”

#roy and jamie fucking are fun i guess #but them cuddling and being super intimate and deeply weird about each other while NOT fucking is also very very fun #as of 3x11 jamie has decided that roy is indeed his for the cuddling whenever jamie needs him to be #roy is resigned to this #he took one look at jamie and georgie and knew it was his destiny #and it’s not exactly hardship #and it’s quite nice to be needed #which still doesn’t stop him from calling jamie a bitch bc roy is still very much a work in progress #he'll get there #probably #also roy and trent's relationship is so special to me #if trent somehow started doing regular journalism again he would TOTALLY use the fact #that he's the one journo roy doesn't hate #roy would fucking mutter and grumble and complain about it #but would ultimately indulge him #just as he does for jamie #and phoebe and anyone that he cares about #trent crimm #roy kent #jamie tartt #ted lasso #roy & jamie #ficlet #my stuff

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its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

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hello! First thing first, I want to say how much of a good writer you are, I hope you know this 💕 second I have this idea of reader and Jamie dating, but nobody knows. One day reader is in the coaches room and starts yawning and Roy is like what's that 🤨 (something similar to that scene with beard after he gets back with jane) and reader answers with "you have been waking me up everyday at 4 am" or smt like that and this is how everyone finds out. I know you have already written something like this but I thought it was cute, so feel free to ignore

this was cute. you were right.

coffee at midnight

Neither you nor Jamie exactly decided to keep your relationship a secret.

“It’s not a secret, it’s private, babe,” Jamie insists. You just roll your eyes.

But like, it is private.

That means no instagram posts, no public dates, and no unasked opinions. It also means that Jamie gets a Polaroid camera (“so we don’t get hacked, babe,”), plans dates in his giant house, and keeps fans’ noses out of your relationship.

It also, also means that Roy Kent doesn’t know you’re in Jamie’s bed every morning when he knocks on the door loud enough to wake the dead.

You’re a week into these shenanigans, and you’re not sure how much longer you can handle it. You’ve barely been at Nelson Road for an hour, but you’ve yawned more than you’ve spoken. Jamie’s been sending you apologetic looks every time he passes you in the hall, but now the entire team is in the weight room as you bring the coaches their coffee.

You place Roy’s in front of him and he asks, “The fuck’s wrong with you?”

You glare. “Nothing. That’s rude to ask, anyway. I’m-” you pause to yawn- “fine.”

Ted looks between you and Roy. “Normally I’d side with the lady on this one, but you look dead on your feet. You been sleepin’ okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shortly. “I’ve been sleeping fine. I just don’t get a lot of it these days.”

“That sounds decidedly un-sexy,” Trent calls from his desk.

You snarl, “It isn’t,” then realize that Trent is undeserving of your anger. “I’m sorry. I’ve been getting like five hours of sleep every night this whole week. Me and my boyfriend just moved in together and we both talk like way too much. So we usually don’t fall asleep until late.”

The room fills with whistles and hoots from Ted, Beard, and Trent. Roy is stoic as always.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Ted grins. “What’s his name?”

You hesitate. You’re pretty sure Jamie would be okay if you told Ted, but you’re not sure you really want to. You let the silence stretch on for a beat too long, and Trent’s on you like a vulture.

“It’s someone here, isn’t it?” he asks.

“No,” you reply, but it’s not convincing. It’s hard for you to lie when you’re this tired.

Jamie and Sam choose this exact moment to come into the locker room to grab water bottles. Jamie glances at you and you make the mistake of glancing back. It’s just for a second but Trent catches it with his stupid eagle-eyes.

“Oh shit,” he says.

You round on him. Maybe he does deserve your anger. “Don’t say anything,” you warn.

He zips his lips as Roy says, “Why are you being so fucking weird? We know you’re fucking lying. Just say which of these little pricks you’re dating and get some sleep like a fucking normal adult.”

“I’d be able to get regular sleep, except you’ve been waking me up at fucking 4am!” you explode.

The room goes silent.

“Fuuuck,” Roy whispers. “Fucking Tartt? You’re dating- fuck, you moved in with fucking Tartt?”

“Yes,” you groan, “We’ve been together for six months and it’s probably the most serious relationship I’ve ever been in, and I know how it sounds but we really like each other. Higgins already knows because of HR shit but other than that, it’s been private.”

Ted and Beard have matching open-mouthed smiles. It would be a little scary if you hadn’t known them for as long as you have.

“That’s the most adorable shit I’ve ever heard in my whole life,” Beard says.

“Hold on,” Trent interjects, “does this mean you and Jamie have been staying up late every night talking?”

“Yes,” you reply primly. “And then this prick bangs on our door at fuck-thirty in the morning and I’m awake for the rest of the day.”

Roy says, “Right,” very slowly. “Is that fucking why he wasn’t wearing fucking trousers?”

All eyes turn to you.

“I’m not answering that,” you say. “In fact, I think I hear Higgins calling me. I have to leave right now.” You back out of the room and down the hall before anyone can say anything else.

The coaches’ office is silent for a moment before they all clamor out of their seats to chase you down the hall. They have so many questions but first, they’re going to yell at Higgins for keeping it a secret.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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oncasette · 2 years ago

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knock, when you’ve got the time

WHEN HE SEES ME I — neighbor!jamie tartt x fem!reader

summary: 4.7k.

you were less than excited to go on this blind date, far less, due to the fact that it'd been sprung on you out of the blue by your best friend. at least, that is, until you get on said date, and realize that the guy is everything you’ve been looking for. he’s sweet, he’s funny, he listens when you talk. but, he’s far more experienced than you, which is where your neighbor comes into the picture.

content: i’m american so the dialogue might be awkward at points, jamie lives in an apartment-style complex rather than the house he’s renting in the show, takes place in season 2 post reality show, pre-richmond

main masterlist | series masterlist | taglist

You feel like your chest is going to explode.

“You did what now, Keels?” you manage to gasp out.

“It’s just a date, babes,” she says.

“A blind one!”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she pauses to sip her tea. “I wouldn’t have set the whole thing up if I didn’t think he was a good match for you.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust her; god, you’re ninety-percent sure you trust her with your life, it’s just that

“I haven’t seen you date anyone since…”

“Martin.”

She rolls her eyes, “Martin.”

“He wasn’t so bad…” you trail off, voice picking up an octave as the sentence droned out of you.

“He was a douchebag, babes. Grade-A. And, anyways, you need to get back out there. You’re super-fucking-smoking-hot. There’s no reason you should be cooped up all alone in this flat of yours. At least, if I have anything to say about it,” she says.

“What if I don’t want… to go on this date?” you ask. And in your head, you think it sounds like an entirely valid question to ask. Warranted, even. It’s a short lived thought when Keeley shoots you a look of fire and death.

“So not an option, babes.”

Your head drops, forehead thumping against the wood of your kitchen table.

“He’s super hot… He’s funny…” she trails off.

“Keeley, I haven’t just been single since Martin,” you say, muffled, face smushed into the countertop until she places a hand on the side of your head to tilt it just enough to allow you to breathe through your nose fully. “I haven’t gone on anything even resembling a date since Martin. I’m totally out of my wheelhouse, here.”

“Oh, lovey, it’s gonna be alright,” the hand previously on your face falls to rub circles on your back. “I’ll help you get ready, I’ll walk you to the bar. I will even sit with you until he shows up, if that’s something you like.”

“But-”

“No, buts! C’mon, you need this! It’ll be amazing and fabulous and fantastic, and if it’s shit you can tell me all about how you told me so after, while we eat a pint of ice cream and watch some shitty, unrealistic romance films at my place,” she says. She stands, abruptly, nearly tugging you up from your own chair in her midst.

“What?”

“Let’s go. Bedroom,” she urges, only stalling to gauge the bewildered look on your face. “Did I forget to mention that your date is this evening?”

“Like, when this evening?”

“Seven?” she scrunches her nose as she checks the clock on her phone.

“It’s five!” you gape at her as she drags you to your closet of helpless, unsuspecting clothes.

The rush of it all saves you from harping on too many of your nerves. Keeley’s sitting on the lid of your toilet telling you all about the guy she’s setting you up with as you shower, she’s tossing every semi-decent outfit you’ve got into a heap on your bed for the two of you to rifle through, and she’s sitting behind you with a curling iron as you do your makeup on the floor like you were in secondary school again.

She nearly burns you while you’re putting on your mascara. It’s a miracle the wand didn’t go straight into your eye.

By the time you were ready–actually ready, too, and not the “ready” you’d tried to pull past Keeley four times before that–your body felt like it’d been through the ringer. You were primped, polished, curled, exfoliated. You had on heels that, while, thankfully, you could walk in, you hadn’t worn in years and a dress that showed off more leg than you would’ve chosen for a first date.

“Do I have to go?” you ask for what feels like the hundredth time. She rolls her eyes, shoving her thumb into your hip as she zips up the back of the dress.

“Yes.”

“But-“

“You are going on this date and you are going to have fun and that’s all I’m gonna hear about it.” It felt like you were arguing with your mother about a toy at the shop.

“Right, you look stunning,” she says as angels the two of you towards the body-length mirror in the corner of your bedroom. She stands behind you, arms linked around your waist.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Her lips press into the dimple of your exposed shoulder.

“You are going to be the kick-ass, sexy, bombshell bitch I know you are, and you are gonna charm the pants off this bloke.”

“Yeah?” You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth for a second, allowing it to pop back out with minimal damage to your lipstick when Keeley playfully taps you on the hip.

“Yeah,” she hums, pulling her body away from her hold on you. “Come on, then. We should get going.”

It’s a short walk to the bar she’s picked out, one the two of you have frequented plenty over the last year or so of your friendship. It was one of the quieter joints, even on weekends. Kept just enough patrons to keep the doors open, but was slow enough that you could hear yourself think.

Keeley sets the two of you up at the bar after scanning the joint, sure that you’ve arrived before your still-unnamed date, before signaling over the bartender to order a round.

“For the jitters,” she says as she grabs the glasses off the counter and hands yours to you. You nod at her, downing nearly half of the gin and tonic in one go.

“Fucking hell. Feel like I’m gonna shit myself, Keels,” you say, clearing the lump from your throat as Keeley chokes on the drink in her own hand. You can’t tell if it's a laugh or a cough or something in between, but once she’s gathered herself and wiped the martini off the counter, she’s facing you with a concerned look.

“Right, look, I get you’re nervous, but what’s up? I’ve never seen you like this,” she says. You’re thankful the fabric of your dress is dark enough to mask sweat as you rub your palm across your thigh.

“It’s just– I don’t know,” you exhale. You swirl your drink around with the tiny black straw you’d initially ignored in the glass.

“Sounds like you do know. So, out with it,” she says.

“What if he’s…” you trail off. Your throat conjures up another lump just for the hell of it. “What if he’s…”

“Out with it, babes,” Keeley urges. She places her martini glass on the counter before swiveling on the barstool to give you her full attention.

“You know, like,” you swallow. “What if he chews with his mouth open or is constantly on his phone all night. Or, or what if he’s chatting with other girls just, like, right in front of me? Because Martin used to pull that shit all the time when we were in situations like this, and-”

You’re cut off by Keeley.

“You’re totally overthinking this.”

“I know.” An exhale. “I know, I know. I’m not even really that freaked about all of that if I’m being honest.” It all spills out of you like word vomit. Each sentence inching up your throat, hot and sour like the taste of bile as you spill your fears out. What if he’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever met, what if he’s a kiddy doctor, or some other profession that’ll just send your ovaries into overdrive, what if he’s-

“God, what if he’s fucking perfect?” you groan.

Keeley doesn’t elect to respond, instead dropping her hands from where they’d been resting on your knees and standing. This draws your attention. You look at her first, shorter than she’d just been when she’d been on the elevated barstool, then turning your gaze towards where hers seemed to be. Past you. At the door.

“Grayson!” she squeaks. She half-jogs over to the door, pulling the very tall man into a swift hug that he reciprocates with vigor.

What if he’s got eyes so dreamy you’re sure to get lost in them at some point tonight. Holy hell.

Keeley turns back to you, dragging Grayson over the few feet that separate you from the door, and, consequently, him, before she introduces the two of you.

“Lovely to meet you,” he says just as you’re stumbling out of your seat to greet him properly.

Your shoulders lean forward as you perch on the toes of your feet. You’re completely unsure of yourself. If he was going to go in for a hug, you’re sure he would’ve done so already, even a handshake. You’re half expecting him to swing into Keeley’s previously occupied stool when he clears your brain’s rambling with a kiss pressed to the apple of your cheek.

“Good to meet you, too?” you squeak out, steadying yourself with what you later realize is a hand on his chest. A hand you pull back probably too quickly seconds later, smoothing out the bottom of your dress. It only takes a second for his fingers to graze your wrist, for him to pull your hand back up to shake it in a real greeting. He takes it in his, hesitantly, at first, and you swear you feel a shock transfer between your fingers. You even think your shoulders jump, but your brain is so fuzzy, just from the proximity, you couldn’t be certain.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever been here before, but there’s this drink-”

You’re already moving to pull away when he uses your conjoined hands to gently tug you into him, effectively punctuating your statement with an oomph.

“There’s a nice table near the back if you want to head somewhere more… private,” he says. His breath fans across the side of your face, lips inches away from the shell of your ear as a shiver trickles down your spine. He knows your favorite bar like the back of his hand.

You faintly hear Keeley say, “Guess I’ll leave you both to it, then.” And you have half a mind to wave or say goodbye or even check and see if she left the bar, but you can’t when all of your focus has been siphoned to the man in front of you. She could’ve lingered and gaped at you for the rest of the night and you likely wouldn’t have noticed.

He leads you the short distance to the back of the bar from behind you, hand lingering on the small of your back in a way that just barely brushes against you. Enough to know it's there, that he’s guiding you, but not enough to truly feel him.

You’re nearly vibrating when you reach the secluded standing table. Your drink is still in your hand, quarter full and sloshing as your knuckles wrap around the glass.

The conversation fizzles as you try to spark it. Your mouth opens and closes with the start of various sentences dying at the end of your tongue as your brain attempts to put pen to paper and get anything out.

“Have you known Keeley long?” he asks after a couple more failed attempts, tossing a lifesaver out to sea.

“A year, nearly,” you smile at him.

“Yeah?” he nods, tipping back the beer you definitely don’t remember him ordering. God, you were really losing it.

Humming out an affirmation, you ask him, “What about you? Childhood besties?”

“No, no,” he snickers. “Though I’m sure that would’ve been interesting, I met her at this bar actually? A couple weeks back.”

You’re not sure if you feel betrayed Keeley came to your spot without you or grateful that she’d been able to conjure the man in front of you in the time you’d spent apart.

“She spilled her drink down my shirt and somehow, in the span of the few minutes we’d spoken, had convinced me to come on this date,” he leans forward as he speaks, weight resting on his elbows. “Telling me all about how pretty her friend was. And I have to say… she undersold you.”

Your face heats under his gaze. “Is that so?”

“Who would I be to lie to a beautiful girl like you?” he asks. You have to clear your throat to gather yourself.

“Not too bad yourself,” you admit.

“Thank you,” he nods. “Wouldn’t want you to be too out of my league, huh?”

You shake your head and you hate how dopey your smile comes out. It's like you’re caught in a lovesick daydream just watching yourself talk to this guy. You’re quick to change the subject.

“So, what is it that you do for a living, Mr. Lee,” you drag the straw of your drink into your mouth. If only just to have something to do with your tongue, something to focus on anything other than the veins running up the backs of his hands and the way his adam’s apple bobs when he talks.

“You’re pot on with the whole Mr. Lee thing, actually,” he chuckles.

You quirk your head to the side in question.

“Teacher,” he says.

“Teacher.” You raise your brows at him. Not Professor. Works with kids.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing. You’re just a lot hotter than any of the teachers I had growing up,” you say, and your heart stops beating for a minute as it gauges his reaction. That last part definitely wasn’t meant to come out. It was supposed to be said at negative twelve volume in the deepest, darkest crevice of your brain so that you couldn’t even hear it. When he laughs, though, you feel the muscle regulate itself, skipping a beat or two until it's back in its usual sync. “And what is it that you teach?”

“History.”

“So you could tell me all about the Great War if I asked?” you ask.

“No,” Grayson chuckles. “I actually teach local history. Mostly Richmond, some greater England.”

“Sounds fascinating,” you say, even though you’re more than sure if you’d been forced to sit through one of his classes you’d hang onto every last word. With claws. And a harpoon gun.

“It can be,” he shrugs. “It wasn’t my first choice, anyway. I had wanted to teach something less British. But it was hard enough to find a gig close to home in the age range I was qualified to teach and in the end I just wound up cutting my losses.”

“And counting your blessings,” you say.

“And counting my blessings,” he repeats.

The conversation starts to flow easier after that. He asks all the right questions at all the right times, he pauses and laughs and migrates closer to you across the table until your–no longer white–knuckles are gently brushing against each other. He tells you about his sister, about his childhood dog, his obsession with trivia games.

“You’re kidding,” you’d gasped, nearly knocking your second drink–one you’d been too busy giggling to guzzle–right over the side of the table.

“Tuesdays are my favorite night of the week,” he says as he gestures to the chalkboard pinned to the back wall of the bar outlining the events posted for that week. Tuesday night trivia was a mainstay.

He lets you go on and on about the movie you’d watched last night, about how many times you’d seen Dirty Dancing and How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. He asks follow up questions about Patrick Swayze and Matthew McConaughey, about why everyone had called her baby in the first place and why Kate Hudson quit her job at the end of the movie. He even goes as far as to say, “You’ll have to show them to me sometime.”

It’s just when the nerves are finally wearing down that a girl appears at your table. And with your newest distraction, you move to check your phone. Your clock blinks back at you with a new message from Keeley you don’t check. It’d been two hours since you’d shown up at the bar. Your shoulders feel sore, suddenly allowed to bear the weight of the hour.

“Jeanette,” you hear Grayson say. His tone is tight, a harsh contrast to the gentle timber you’d gotten used to over the course of the evening. His lips have drawn themselves into a thin line as he shoots you a sympathetic look.

“You never called me back, you know. I left you a message,” she says as she curls her neatly manicured hands over his bicep.

“Thirteen, if I remember correctly,” he says.

“Same difference.” She shakes her head in a way that pushes her curls back to fall over her shoulder.

He uses the hand not caught in her grip to gesture towards you, introducing you to the platinum blonde before continuing, “You’re sort of interrupting our date.”

Pulling back, she looks embarrassed. Shockingly. It’s like she’s just now seeing you despite the permanent place you’d held at the table for the entirety of her visit.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, Gray,” she says, and as she moves to pull away from your conversation, she puts a hand over the side of her face to not-discreetly whisper “He does wonders with his tongue” with an even less discreet wink.

You hear yourself say “That was interesting” just as Grayson spills out “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” you question. “It’s fine, really.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that,” he sighs.

“What, does it happen to you a lot?” you ask, and you honestly mean it as a means to break the uncomfortable, meeting his former–or not-former, you truly didn’t know him that well, now that you were thinking about it–hook-up.

“You’d be surprised,” he groans, and he has the gall to look less than cocky about it. Cocky you could handle. Confident, even.

“Try me.” You absolutely, positively did not want to be tried.

“Look,” he starts, saying your name softly. “I wasn’t going to veer anywhere near this topic tonight because I didn’t want you to feel like I was trying to steer the conversation towards sex. I’ve been around the block, sure, but when–and if–we ever hit that… subject, I want it to be for us. I would want it to be whenever you were ready for it all to happen.”

Nodding, you swallow. Oh yeah, he’d “been around the block” alright. Who would ever lie about this like that.

“I’m good with that,” you smile at him. A smile he, thankfully, is quick to reciprocate, dropping his hand to cover yours where it rests on the table.

“Good.”

Your eyes start to feel fuzzy before either of you have called the evening to a close. Static builds up in your tear ducts and a numbness creeps up, licking at the back of your skull.

This was insane, you were insane. This was not the kind of information you cried over. You manage to pull yourself together to end the evening with a smile, putting your number in his phone with a smiley face at the butt of it, and allow him to kiss you on the cheek at the door of the pub before you split off in different directions.

He’d offered to walk you home, nearly begged, but you’d assured him you’d be fine to walk the block and a half back to your flat. Besides, you ease yourself, you never invite a bloke back to your place on the first date. Wouldn’t want to give Richmond’s newest serial killer prime information on your whereabouts.

How were you meant to work with this? It wasn’t that you were a virgin, or anything. You’d had sex. Once. When you were still a teenager with your so-called boyfriend at the time who’d dumped you the very next day. You hadn’t even finished, unsurprisingly. It had been embarrassing for you at the time, how you’d done your best to convince yourself that some girls just don’t cum from sex.

You reach your flat before you realize it. The key in your hand shakes in time with your fingers and you manage to put your back to the door before your knees give out beneath you. Every part of you felt weak, unsupportive. Overwhelmed.

Honestly, you weren’t even mad that he’d been around. With a face like that, it’d be a wonder–and a red flag–if he hadn’t. It’s just that you’re so… inexperienced. Women your age should know their body, should know how to use it. The only aspect of sexuality that you’re familiar with is the vibrator stuffed in your sock drawer. And even that was a gift from Keely.

You bring your hand up to wipe your face, attempting to look somewhat presentable to the public as your neighbor sweeps past you to unlock his door. The back of it comes back sticky with snot. Your neighbor’s stride stutters, back foot planted to the floor for a hair too long just before he’s spinning on his heel to face you.

“Are you alright?” His hands are stuffed into the joint pocket of his jumper.

“Fine,” you hiccup as you bring your knees up to rest against your chest.

He frees his hand from the pocket only to stick it out in your direction. “Jamie Tartt.”

“I know who you are,” you scoff, nearly choking on the giggle that bubbles up with it. “Think everyone with a telly knows who you are. Or, like… a phone.”

His hand lingers in the air for a second, twitching towards you until it resigns itself back into the pocket.

“Did you wanna talk about it, maybe? I make a mean cuppa,” he gestures back at the foot behind him that leads to his front door.

It’s the longest conversation you’d had with the footballer. Usually you’re given little more than a nod and a shut door as he lets another girl into his flat or brings his groceries in. Though, now that you’re really thinking about it, the former had dwindled significantly in recent months.

Either way, you shake your head. “Wouldn’t want to intrude,” you sniffle.

“No, no,” he assures you, going as far as to take that step closer to you. His hand extends out to you again. “I insist.”

You manage to stand on your feeble legs, following Jamie into his flat with your own keys still in hand.

“How long you been sittin’ out there?”

“Not long,” you hum, clearing your throat in the process. He grumbles out something you don’t have the heart to ask him to repeat as he moves around his kitchen. His hair is longer than you remember it being during the last match you’d caught at your parents’ house and the dark locks fall over his eyes as he puts the kettle on the eye. Then again, that Man City game hadn’t been the last time you’d seen him.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks.

You don’t have the energy to be coy.

“I don’t know how to fuck,” you say. Jamie’s hand twitches as he puts your cup down in front of you.

“Sorry?” he coughs.

“This guy I went on a date with earlier,” you say. “While we were out, he got stopped by this girl he’d been seeing and she made a comment about how incredible his tongue game is and then suddenly we’re talking about how many people he’s had sex with.”

By the time you finish that sentence you’re gasping for air and Jamie is looking at you expectantly.

“No offense, but why would that matter?” he asks.

“I haven’t had sex since I was eighteen? I have no idea what I’m doing, you know?”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t know. I’m very experienced, actually.” he raises his eyebrows at you as he says it, making the comment seem less like he was bragging and more that he was… easing your nerves about the whole ordeal. You’re not sure if it’s totally working for you or not, but you manage to maintain eye contact as you bring the cup up to your lips.

“I’m sure being a premier league footballer heartily prepares you for this kind of thing,” you say, sipping.

“I mean, yeah, but I was kinda referencing something else,” he says and you decide it's best for your own sanity to play dumb in this case. You know, not let him know you’d seen him fuck his way through his short run on Lust Conquers All.

“And that is…” “You didn’t see me show?”

“I don’t watch reality TV,” you lie. Of course you’d seen his run. Everyone had seen his run. Even if it has been through a mix of very flattering and very unflattering gifs on Twitter.

“How d’ya know it was reality TV?” he asks with a cocked brow.

“Hunch,” you shrug. You sniffle as you hold your cup in your lap, both palms held tight to the warm porcelain.

You watch him meander around his kitchen, feeling somewhat comforted by the fact that its a mirror of your own, as he mulls over the information you’ve given him. It wasn’t like you were expecting him to do anything with it. You hadn’t expected to tell anyone about it, if you were being frank, but Jamie had caught you at a fairly vulnerable moment outside your door.

“I think I’ve got an idea,” he declares.

“Proceed.”

“I could help you with your little problem. Ya know. With my expertise,” he says.

“Such a fancy word for a footballer,” you say with a bite.

“Right hilarious,” he clears his throat. “Anyway, back to my idea.”

“Your idea… about teaching me how to have sex?” you ask, nearly incredulous at this point.

“No, not how to have sex,” he starts. “Just…” “How to have sex,” you finish.

“Look, right, you said it yourself. You lack experience,” he shrugs. “I can help with that.”

“So, what are you wanting me to do? Drop my dress to the floor and beg you to fuck me? You don’t even know me,” you say, not even totally sure yourself where the hostility is coming from.

He shakes his head, placing both hands flat against his kitchen island to face you fully.

“We could get to know each other. I’m just throwing ideas out there. It doesn’t have to be today, or tomorrow, or fucking ever, really, but if you decide you want me to help you with your little… predicament, all you have to do is knock on me door, yeah?”

Swallowing, you bring your eyes up to make eye contact with him. What the fuck was going on? In the span of, what, six hours, you’d been thrown into a blind date with a guy ripped straight from your dreams, discovered said dream-guy was overwhelmingly into you, discovered same said dream-guy had slept with half of Richmond and some of Wales, and had your neighbor proposition himself to you after finding you sobbing outside your front door? Were you in an episode of The Twilight Zone?

You look down at your cup before bringing it up to down the small amount of liquid left within it in one gulp.

“Predicament is another fancy word. You’re on a roll,” you say after you’ve swallowed down the amber liquid. You make a move to stand, arranging your keys in your hand so that the key that opens your front door is pinched between your thumb and your index finger.

“I’m smarter than you think.” He follows close behind you, opening the front door for you to step out into the hallway.

“Should’ve told your showrunners that,” you say, facing him for a second before you’re pushing the key into the lock and opening your own flat.

“So you have seen the show,” he says.

“Goodnight, Jamie Tartt,” you reply. You hear a muffled goodnight through your door seconds after you’ve clicked it shut.

As you drop your belongings in their designated spots and kick your shoes off by the door, you bring yourself to look at your notifications.

Keeley MF Jones

Hope you’re having fun!!!! Text me when you’re home and safe xxx

A new message rolls in just as you bring your finger across the screen to unlock it.

Keeley MF Jones

I’ll take it that my lack of response means that the night ended well ;)

Love you, babes! Stay safe!!

I want all the details tomorrow!!

Pausing, your fingers dance an inch above the keyboard before finally typing out a phrase. She doesn’t need to know everything.

My lips are sealed.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt series #phil dunster #phil dunster x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso series

323 notes · View notes

buckychristwrites · 2 years ago

Text

Could This Be | Chap. Two | j.t.

Summary: One minute, you're single and working for AFC Richmond as the team's medic. The next minute, you're in a fake relationship with the team's handsome striker who you know next to nothing about..

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Cussing. Fake Dating

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy :)

Masterlist | Could This Be Masterlist | Main Blog

All eyes were on you, although they would occasionally jump to Jamie as well.

You opened your mouth and immediately closed it again. Your brain felt like it was stroking out, unable to process the information you had just been given.

You? And Jamie? Jamie Tartt? The Jamie Tartt? The footballer Jamie Tartt? Striker for AFC Richmond Jamie Tartt? Former Lust Conquers All competitor Jamie Tartt? The idiot standing next to you Jamie Tartt? Jamie Tartt, whom you didn’t even know the birthday of, or really anything else about him? That Jamie Tartt?

The room began to spin slightly, but it wasn’t from any alcohol. Your mind was painfully overwhelmed as it ran a million miles a minute. Everyone was silently waiting for you to speak, Keeley’s eyes like daggers as she stared at you. You glanced over at Jamie, who was the only person in the room who couldn’t seem to look at you.

Your mouth opened, locked and loaded with denial at the ready…

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

What?

Why are you going along with this? You asked yourself. It was unclear.

The collective gasp that filled the back yard felt rehearsed. Everyone began looking at each other in complete surprise. When you looked at Jamie, he was also staring at you, stunned, as if he expected you to deny it just as much as you expected yourself to. Realising what you had just said, you scooted closer to him, as if to stand in solidarity. Swallowing hard, you tried to come off as more confident than you felt.

“It’s true,” You declared. “Jamie is my boyfriend.” Jamie said nothing, instead wrapping a hesitant arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to him. You wondered if you looked as stiff as you felt. It seemed that everyone began to talk at the same time.

“We are so happy for you too! Why did you not tell us?”

“Two of my favourite people, together and in love. What a beautiful world we live in.”

“Since when is Tartt a good liar? How did you hide this from us?”

“I think the better question is why?” Keeley interjected, her arms crossed over her chest. It was clear that she wasn’t handling the news as kindly as the others.

“I don’t know,” You said, feeling like it was the only thing you could say that wasn’t a lie. “I was afraid. And I didn’t want things to change, with you or with anyone. I hated the thought of being another footballer's girlfriend.”

Been there, done that, assumed you would never do it again.

That’s what you get for assuming, apparently.

Keeley picked at her chin as she thought about this, before rushing forward and grabbing your hand. Jamie’s arm slipped away from you as she pulled you inside without a word. The crowd within the house had thinned momentously, and you wondered if it had to do with the kitchen drama that was now ensuing in the yard. She led you up the stairs and into the bathroom, where she closed and locked the door. A long time passed with her just staring at the closed door. It made you want to throw up. Her eyebrows were knitted together when she finally turned to face you.

“Can you please explain this to me?” She asked you in a quiet voice.

“Keeley…” You said, desperate to tell her the truth but knowing you had dug your own grave. “I’m so sorry.” You began to pull at the hem of your shirt. “It just… it just happened. I didn’t know how to tell you.” Part of you wondered if you should be concerned about how easy it was to feed her this lie.

“I guess I’m just sad you didn’t tell me sooner, but I am over the moon for you,” She admitted with a softening face. “Jamie is wonderful. He’ll treat you better than he ever treated me when we were together.” You shifted as you tried not to look uncomfortable.

“He’s changed because of you though,” You reminded her. She rolled her eyes.

“Well, at least one of us gets to reap the benefits of my work, then.” The both of you laugh, her placing a hand on your forearm. When you settled, she looked at you with her big, caring eyes. “I just have another question to ask.”

Having a feeling where this was going, you nodded. She took a deep breath.

“Are you sure you’re ready for something like this?” Her voice was soft, tender, and you could tell this was her biggest concern. She glanced at the sink counter before looking back at you. “It just wasn’t that long ago that… you know who happened. And you had said you wouldn’t date another footballer. I just-”

“Oh no,” You said, waving your hand to stop her from talking. If she said anything more, it would become clear that you absolutely were not ready for anything like this, which was why you hadn’t wanted anything like this. But you shoved those feelings down and plastered an all too reassuring smile on your face. “It’s… it’s different this time, I think.” Your hands shook anyway, and you had to shove them in your pockets to hide them.

“Obviously,” Keeley said with a chuckle. “Jamie would never.” She didn’t elaborate, but she didn’t need to. You already knew what she meant, and you already knew she was right.

“Are we okay?” You asked her, the pain in your chest from this whole encounter seeming to worsen. The idea of risking your friendship with Keeley over a lie for Jamie was absolutely ridiculous.

“Of course we are, babe,” She assured you, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze. “I just want you to be happy.” The tension released, your muscles happy to finally relax. You squeezed her hand in return, giving her a wide smile that she returned before pulling you into a hug. “But you still owe me an explanation on how this all happened!” You forced a slight laugh.

“Maybe another day?” Maybe in a few weeks when you actually had an explanation to give. For now, you were so stressed over everything that had transpired over the last half hour that you felt the need for another drink. She released you, and you gave her another smile.

“It better be another day soon,” She said with a hint of warning in her voice. “I want every last detail. You nodded with feign enthusiasm.

“Let’s go back to the party, yeah?” She nodded, turning and leading you out of the bathroom, your wrist in her hand.

Before going back outside, where it was dark now, you found Roy and Sam in the kitchen. Sam was pouring another drink for himself while Roy was taking a sip of another beer. They both looked up at you and Keeley as you entered. Even though Keeley joined her boyfriend, his arm wrapped around her and a kiss planted on her forehead, you could feel Roy’s eyes following you. It was hard to ignore, but you pretended not to notice as you poured yourself another, much stronger drink.

“So,” Roy said, making you flinch at the break in the quiet. “You and Tartt.”

If there was anyone on the planet that you didn’t want to talk to about this subject, it was Roy Kent. The wish that the floor would swallow you whole intensified. Biting your lip, you continued to make your drink.

“Me and Jamie,” You replied, failing to hide the strain. He responded with a noise that was a mix between a grunt and hum. Keeley hit his chest lightly.

“Don’t push her, Roy,” She chastised. “It was probably very stressful for them to finally tell us. We’re happy for them, right?” Roy nodded. You allowed yourself a glance at his face, and when you saw the scepticism, you immediately wished you hadn’t.

“It just seems very random,” He continued, leading Keeley so the two of them were moving closer to you. Sam was looking between you and Roy, his face thoughtful.

“Love does seem very random, does it not?” He asked, his head tilted as he made eye contact with Roy. “It seemed random to the rest of us when you and Keeley got together.” At that moment, you wanted to kiss Sam all over his lovely face. You didn’t have any answers for Roy’s questions. It was all just as random to you as it was to him.

You went to flee to the back yard, when a random thought crossed your mind. You turned back and went to the fridge, assessing the assortment of beets before grabbing one and letting it close. As you passed, you exchanged a look with Roy. He was glaring at you suspiciously, while you were trying to match that energy in your own stare. In the end, you were glad when you were back outside in the cool, evening air. Throwing your drink back, you took a few hefty drink.

You wandered over to Jamie, who was sitting in the same lounge chair you had claimed not that long ago. Handing him the fresh cold beer, he gave you a surprised look before taking it from you.

“Thanks,” He said, all smiley as he looked at the bottle. “Even got me favourite.” You looked around at the other Richmond players, who, despite building a fire in the pit in the middle of the yard, were still all throwing glances yours and Jamie’s way.

“I guessed,” You mumbled before making your way to the chair at the opposite side. Without warning, Jamie grabbed you, gently pulling you down into the same chair he sat in and pulling your back against his chest.

“Gotta sell it,” He mumbled in your ear, breath hot against your skin.

The tension had returned to your body in full force, your chest rising and falling heavily. How did this happen? Why did you agree to it? Why were you suddenly so afraid?

“We’re gonna have to talk about this at some point, you know,” You mumbled to him. He wrapped an arm around your upper chest, his palm pressed flat against your clavicle. Your skin was on fire at the feeling. “This situation you got us into.”

“I know,” He mumbled. You wondered if he was enjoying this. There weren’t any signs that he was hating it. “I’m sorry. She started talkin’ about another blind date, and I told her I was seein’ someone. She asked who and… I dunno. Your name slipped out.” Your face didn’t change as you listened, eyes still on the fire that the others started, which had now grown pretty large.

“When I said to lie, I didn’t mean about me, goofball,” You joked, trying to create some ease, more in yourself than anything. You felt the laughter shake in his chest despite that it was silent.

“I just panicked. It was stupid.”

The door creaked open and Keeley walked out, followed by Roy. You averted Roy’s eyes as he walked over to the chair next to you and Jamie, the same chair he had occupied before, and took a seat once more.

“This is weird,” Roy remarked to the two of you. The rest of the team were talking amongst each other.

“Is it weird enough that you need to make comments like that?” Jamie asked, tapping his fingers against your chest. “Or could you try acceptin’ the happiness of your friends?”

Roy didn’t respond, deciding to let out a low growl instead while refraining from looking at either Jamie or you. You continued to say nothing, instead focusing on keeping your breathing normal. Which was incredibly hard, due to the fact that the panic had already risen to critical levels. The only thing running through your mind was leaving. Though you hadn’t been at the party for as long as everyone else, the evening took a turn that was more draining than you were prepared for.

You grabbed your drink and finished it with a single gulp.

“I think I’m gonna head home.”

Everyone watched you as you stood up, brushing your hands on your trousers before looking around at the faces. With a wave, you smiled before saying, “Sorry about the announcement earlier. I’ll see you guys later.”

Keeley stood, walking over and giving you a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug.

“I’m so happy for you, babe,” She assured you. You sighed, probably coming off as relieved to her, but you knew it was the exact opposite. Pulling away, you gave her one last smile before walking a little too fast through the backdoor and through the house. It was empty now. It was probably safe to assume that Keeley and Roy had asked the rest of the party to leave prior to returning outside.

It wasn’t until you got to the door to the front yard that you noticed that Jamie had gotten up and followed you inside. Pulling your hand away from the doorknob, you turned to look at him. His hands were behind his back, and he looked down at the floor, seeming to become bashful underneath your hard stare.

“Sorry, I-” He swallowed. “I thought it would look weird if I just let you leave.” You glanced around the room for a moment, gathering your thoughts.

“Roy is right,” You told him. “This is so weird. We go from never speaking to suddenly, we’re together? A couple?” Your shoulders flew up in an intense shrug before falling down once more. “It doesn’t make sense, Jamie. We have to-” You sighed as you stared at his crestfallen face. “We have to tell them the truth. Or say we ended it. This is insane. Expecting me to go along with this is insane.”

You turned to leave, ignoring him when he called after you.

The tears began the second you were in your car. The drive wasn’t long, but it sure felt like it was when you were crying the whole way there. Every light seemed to turn red, which upset you even further. By the time you pulled into your driveway, you placed your head on the steering wheel and let it all out. The hyperventilating was intense, so intense that you were having a hard time getting it under control.

You hadn’t been touched like that since…

No.

You wouldn’t do Jamie the disrespect of comparing him to that.

Still, the feeling of it was so disarming. Your hand went to your neck, rubbing at the skin in an attempt to get the burning to subside.

Fucking worthless, ain’t you?

You rushed inside, fumbling with your keys through your shaky hands. Before you knew it, you were running to the bathroom, throwing the shower on and tossing your clothes on the floor. Your hands went right for the soap and the cloth, immediately lathering yourself up to try and wash away the memory of the hands on your skin.

Not Jamie’s, anyway.

Just the memories his touch brought back.

You must’ve scrubbed three or four times before your skin stopped burning. Even still, you stayed under the hot water, pressing your forehead against the shower tile.

It was clear now that this game with Jamie had to end.

If this was how you reacted to a fake relationship, how could you ever again handle a real one?