#but my brain REFUSES to acknowledge them as such

[nameless-jamie]

Perfectly Blended

A Jamie Tartt x reader Short Story

Masterlist

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x fem! make-up artist reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scene/language, kissing

A/N: This ff is inspired by the idea/request of @shadowyhologramlady thank you so much! Please give her a follow if you like!

AFC Richmond’s training ground wasn’t exactly the kind of place one expects to see an array of makeup brushes and highlighters laid out like surgical tools. But here she was, Y/N Y/L/N, leaning against a counter in the locker room, organizing her kit while waiting for Keeley to finish her meeting with Rebecca.

It all started rather fast. Y/N certainly didn't expect to get a call from Keeley Jones at midnight six months ago, tipsy off rosé, begging her to help out with AFC Richmond’s media team because “footballers need good skin too, babe. For their interviews and sponsorships.”

Y/N's actual main job was being a freelance makeup artist, working with models, influencers, and even the occasional musician. But suddenly her best friend Keeley hooked her up with this job. Ever since Keeley convinced Rebecca to let her run the club’s marketing, Y/N’d been roped into working part-time (recently more like full-time) at Richmond, mostly for media days and promotional shoots.

So, Y/N's new daily job was standing in the club’s locker room, arranging her makeup kit on the counter, and waiting for the players to get ready for their touch-ups before interviews.

All while Jamie Tartt—actual Premier League star, occasional pain in the ass, and her best friend’s biggest headache—watched her like she was performing some magic trick.

“Oi, what’s all this then?” Jamie said while touching a beauty blender that was laid out on the table.

Y/N glanced up at Jamie, who was dripping with post-training sweat, hair pushed back with his signature headband. He smelled like overpriced cologne and whatever soap they used in the showers, and despite how ridiculous it was, the combination made her brain short-circuit for half a second.

“It’s called makeup, Jamie,” she teased, holding up a brush. “Surely you’ve heard of it.”

“Oh, I know what makeup is. My mum watches Love Island, innit?” He smirked, crossing his arms as he eyed the foundations and powders spread out before them.

"That's... lovely Jamie."

“So, you’re tellin’ me they actually pay you to do this?” Jamie asked, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

Without looking up again, Y/N sighed. “No, Jamie, I break into the training ground every week just for fun.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Wouldn’t be surprised. Bet you love bein’ around me.”

She finally glanced up, raising a brow. “Yeah, Jamie. I keep doing footballers' makeup so I can powder your pretty little nose all day.”

“See? Knew it.”

She rolled her eyes, but the truth was, she had known Jamie for a while now. And they've had this flirty tension ever since they met.

You see, they know each other through Keeley. Y/N and Keeley had been inseparable since their early days in the industry—back when Keeley was a model and Y/N was just starting out as a makeup artist. Their friendship had landed Y/N some of her first big gigs, and eventually, when Keeley transitioned into PR, she had this idea and pulled Y/N along for the ride.

That was how she officially ended up working part-time at AFC Richmond, doing touch-ups for media days, promotional shoots, and the occasional interview. And that was also how she ended up crossing paths with Jamie Tartt.

Jamie, who had been Keeley’s ex. Jamie, who had a reputation for being both unbearably cocky and stupidly attractive. Jamie, who flirted with her in a way that was definitely not friendly, despite Keeley’s constant eye-rolls and smirks whenever she caught them talking. "God, just fuck and get it over with." Keeley's words.

There was something about him—something infuriatingly charming, something Y/N refused to acknowledge as attraction, even though she knew deep down that was exactly what it was.

Jamie liked to push.

And she liked pushing right back.

Which was why it was so easy to smirk at him now and say, “Are you just here to annoy me, or did you actually need something?”

Jamie shrugged. “Bit of both.”

She sighed dramatically, turning back to her kit. “Alright, well, unless you need concealer for those eye bags—”

“Oi! I don’t have eye bags.”

She smirked. “—or maybe some setting powder for that sweaty forehead of yours—”

“Not sweaty, I’m glistening.”

“—then I’m busy.”

Jamie chuckled, stepping closer. “Alright, fine. Maybe I was thinkin’… you ever need a model for that little makeup account of yours, I could do it.”

That actually made her pause. “You? Model for me? On my Instagram?”

“Yeah,” Jamie said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I reckon I’d look dead fit with a bit of contour.”

She snorted. “You already think you look dead fit, Tartt.”

“Yeah, but now imagine it with highlight. Drop dead gorgeous.”

She eyed him suspiciously, trying to gauge whether or not he was joking. But no—he was giving her that smug, lopsided grin, dimples out in full force, because he knew exactly what he was doing.

And the worst part? It was working.

“…Fine,” she relented, pointing a brush at him. “But if I do this, you have to sit still and actually listen to me.”

Jamie pressed a hand to his chest. “Swear on me mum’s life.”

She rolled her eyes but gestured for him to sit.

He dropped into the chair, looking way too pleased with himself as she stood in between his legs and pumped a little foundation onto the back of her hand.

“You better not make me look like a dickhead, love.”

“No promises,” she muttered, dabbing the sponge onto his face.

The second it touched his cheek, Jamie flinched.

“Jesus Christ, that’s cold!”

She snorted. “Oh, suck it up, you get tackled for a living.”

Jamie huffed but let her continue, even as his skin warmed under her touch. His lashes were stupidly long up close, and he kept watching her with that same smug glint in his eye.

“This your favorite part?” Jamie mused.

She didn’t look up. “What, applying foundation?”

“Nah,” he said, smirking. “Touchin’ my face.”

She paused just long enough for his grin to widen.

“Oh my God,” she muttered. “You are so full of yourself.”

Jamie leaned back slightly, still grinning. “Yeah, but you usually love it.”

She ignored him and grabbed a brow gel, brushing up his eyebrows.

“That shit feels weird.”

“Looks good, though.”

Jamie waggled his brows. “Look at you givin' me compliments now. Told you I’d be a good model.”

"I mean you are a handsome man, don't see why you wouldn't be a good model." She mumbled fully concentrated.

"I mean, I personally think you're fuckin' fit—"

"Shhhh." She shushed him by applying some chapstick before he could say something that would make her go fucking feral for him.

Jamie gave her a knowing smirk, making her laugh. “Am I bein' good so far? Behavin'?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, picking up a soft bronzer. “Okay, now let’s give you some definition.”

His smirk deepened. “Thought you said I already had too much definition.”

“Okay, first of all—” You pointed at him with the brush. “You should not be that smug about having cheekbones.”

“Can’t help it, babe. Genetics, innit?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you dusted bronzer along his jaw. “Second of all, if you interrupt me again, I’m putting glitter on you.”

Jamie gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “You wouldn’t.”

You held up a shimmery highlighter. “Try me.”

He eyed it warily before sitting up straighter. “Right, sorry I’ll be good.”

Once she was done, she stepped back to admire her work.

“There. You look ridiculously good, Jamie.”

Nah, you have to realize he looked good before, but now...fuck.

Jamie turned to the mirror, tilting his head like he was properly analyzing himself. “Not bad,” he admitted, rubbing a thumb along his jaw—before she swatted his hand away.

“Do not mess it up, I still need pictures.”

Jamie sighed dramatically. “Right, right. The things I do for the arts.”

She grabbed her phone, snapping a few shots as he posed like a model—one hand under his chin, then a serious smolder, then holding a football like he was starring in some Vogue athlete feature. She couldn’t stop laughing, especially when he gave her the full Zoolander pose.

Eventually, after the last photo, Jamie leaned back in his chair and gave her a look—one that was softer than before, a little more genuine. She was still standing in between his legs admiring the photos she took of him.

“You’re actually really good at this, y’know.”

She blinked, momentarily thrown. “Thanks, Jamie.”

He tilted his head. “How come you don’t do, like… big celebrities and that, anymore?”

She shrugged. “I do, sometimes. But I like working with people I know. Plus, the football stuff is fun and Keeley keeps me busy and well-paid here.”

Jamie hummed, then suddenly said, “Bet you’d be dead fit with a bit of blush.”

She frowned. “I am wearing blush, Jamie.”

He smirked. “Yeah, but I mean, like… if I put it on you. Let me try.”

Before she could respond, Jamie grabbed the blush brush from her kit, twirling it between his fingers.

“C’mon,” he said, tilting his head. “Fair’s fair.”

She crossed her arms. “Do you even know how to use that?”

Jamie shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

She sighed but let him dust the blush across her cheek. His fingers brushed her skin lightly as he blended it in—careful, gentle. The teasing was still there, but the air between them shifted.

Jamie wasn’t just playing around anymore.

She could feel it in the way he was watching her.

The brush faltered, then slowly dropped.

Y/N shook her head, trying not to heat up too much under his gaze. “Well, thanks for letting me use your face.”

“I'd let you use my face anytime,” he said easily while giving her his signature smirk. Neither of them were moving.

Y/N glanced up. “Oh really?” At this point, she was indulging him.

She could still feel the warmth of his fingertips lingering against her skin. His gaze flickered from her eyes to her lips—quick, instinctive.

Her breath hitched.

Jamie exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

She wasn’t sure who leaned in first.

Maybe it was him. Maybe it was her.

Maybe it had been a long time coming.

But before she could overthink it, before she could talk herself out of it—Jamie’s lips brushed against hers, sending a spark down her spine.

She didn’t pull away.

Instead, her fingers curled into the fabric of his training jersey, tugging him closer as he kissed her—soft, but firm, like he’d been waiting for this just as much as she had.

His hand came up to her jaw, the same one that had been holding the brush just moments ago, now tilting her face just right as he deepened the kiss. He tasted faintly of mint gum and something sweet, something him, and it was dizzying how easily she melted into it.

Jamie smirked against her lips. “Told you you’d look good with blush.”

She huffed a laugh. “Shut up.”

And then she kissed him again.

[princessofghosts-posts]

In Son of Neptune Hazel talks about how she and her brother represent the two spheres of power of their father: Nico the dead and she the wealth of the earth. She also thought that between the two of them,Nico had the better end of the deal (we all know that it's totally the opposite,but shh-). And I later realize how funny is the fact that,what one wants the other has,and vice versa.

Nico wanted to be accepted at Camp Half-Blood,wanting to have friends and a home. But because of his parentage he got shunned away,isolated and treated like the plague. While Hazel didn't have the best social life,she also didn't get the same horrible treatment. She still had a friend (Frank,later Percy,then the Seven,ecc..) and was included in camp activities. She always had a place at Camp Jupiter (later on also at Camp Half-blood) which is something that Nico never had until the end of HoO.

Hazel wanted their father's love,wanted him to fight more for her when Marie wanted to take her to Alaska and wanted to have him more involved in her life. But she can't have that because if Pluto really acknowledge her,she will have to return in the Underworld. And while Nico's relationship with Hades didn't start on the right foot,their father is involved in his life. Hades was there for Nico when he ran away from Camp (I refuse to believe that Hades let him live alone on the streets,this is the same god that gifted him a chauffeur without a reason–). He lives in the Underworld with him,has his own bedroom there and can do whatever he wants without any real consequences. He has everything that Hazel wished she had before dying.

And I think this is something that,especially during the first months of their new found sibling dinamic,had them a little bitter one towards the other.

I hope you think about this because I'm hating my brain for this.

[americankimchi]

thinking about how both tfa (2015) and rogue one (2016) came out post-disney's acquisition of lucasfilms (2012) and both those films live on so fondly in my heart but have also, somehow, been earmarked in my head as the last true additions to star wars canon to have come out ever since

[luna-the-cretar]

I’m sorry, I really don’t like that Clayton canonically looks like this

No hate to the artist. Their art is absolutely stunning. It’s just that my mind refuses to acknowledge that Clayton isn’t meant to be pudgy or anything. Not fat by any means, but, yknow, round.

I just want this man to be built like the conductor from the original Thomas the Train Engine show, is that so much to ask?

[xxplastic-cubexx]

do u think either charles or erik had trouble coming to terms with their love for one another?? like religious guilt, internalized homophobia, etc.

Many such cases really … not hard to imagine them dealin with that …

[electric-plants]

cyno: could you give me advice on how to get closer to alhaitham?

kaveh: huh?? why are you asking me? i hate alhaitham

cyno: haha oh yeah that’s one of my favorite jokes you do it’s so funny :)

kaveh: …..one of your favorite what?

[puppppppppy]

adhd comix

[faunabel]

my fave form of what's basically friends to lovers is when two people meet and have all their own baggage and the connection they form together and love they have for each other forces them to unpack all that baggage if they want to make things work. the kind of relationship where you're forced to look in the mirror and stop avoiding ur own problems because that person forces u to confront all of them (and u force them to confront theirs, too) because the relationship will Not work if you keep up all these walls either from your person of interest or even from urself!!! and there's too much of something there to give up and move on because it's difficult

the kind of thing where there's romance but the real plot of it all is self transformation through loving another. like the focus is on two individuals w/ their own lives who come together and have romantic feelings for each other vs the romance itself being the plot.

and maybe in the end they don't even stay together! maybe it doesn't work out! but there's drastic change and an undeniable impact they both made in each other's lives that will live on. is changing for the better not love in its rawest form?

[allastoredeer]

You were wondering which circle Lucifer might live in, an if I had to guess, I'd say the sixth one. The one meant to punish heresy:

the belief or opinion contrary to orthodox religious (especially Christian) doctrine

An opinion profoundly at odds with what is generally accepted

A fitting place to settle down for one so severely punished for thinking too far outside of the box.

That'd be fucking awesome and so so fitting.

I'm so curious about where Lucifer's house is. We don't see any indication of where he'd be living within Pentagram City, so if the 9 Circles are a thing, I 100% believe he lives in one of those. You're so big brained for putting him in the Heresy Circle, it's perfect for him.

(But I also love bullying Lucifer and I like the idea that he's cursed to be close to the Sinners at all times as punishment, that way he's constantly reminded of his hubris and mistakes, which is why he locks himself up in his work-room so much. He's as stuck with the Sinners as the Sinners are stuck in the Pride Ring, and he copes with that by never, ever going outside. That's the real reason he's so pale. Guy has a the Hell equivalent of Vitamin-D deficiency.

[rivilu]

There's pieces of media that alter your brain chemistry and then there's pieces of media that rearrange you on a molecular level

[a-very-fond-farewell]

tried to take a day off from writing. still woke up at 5am. let’s write then 😈🔥

[the-cookie-of-doom]

so I got flexed off from work today, and that was supposed to mean sleeping in an extra hour, waking up at six, and studying for my exam. What that actually meant was sleeping until 9, and reading fic until 11, and now sitting here post-shower at 11:20, trying to convince myself to be a person, and instead scrolling tumblr. cries.

[lovsome]

im gonna start going to therapy again

[pagesofkenna]

every day i'm tempted to go back to Metal Flowers (my knives!Hanakaki kanej fic) and edit the like two lines where the cure condition is described as feelings being reciprocated, into the cure condition being feelings confessed, and change nothing else

[dead-believers]

it really does suck being so fucking. aware of how i am, i guess. self-aware feels pretentious, i guess.

like i know, objectively. im unfair. im cruel, sometimes, im very very petty, im vindictive, im irrational, im volatile and miss so many marks. and i know, every single time, that some things i do are wrong, or cruel, or unfair, or petty or vindictive or irrational. its unfair to everyone else that i get upset at them so easily, its petty to purposefully deprive people of things because i feel like they slighted me even a little bit (regardless on whether they think/know they did or not). i know its cruel to want people to worry about me the way i need them to.

and it kinda feels silly and. blame-y to say that i cant help it. i would if i was able to. its not true to say i dont like being how i am, in some way, but its definitely not fun a lot of the time. im not exactly a fan of crashing as often as i do, i dont like being as cripplingly terrified over things and having every worst possible scenario be the first thing i think of every single fucking time. i truly, honestly fucking despise the contamination OCD that doesnt have anything redeeming i want it gone NOW.

but i cant help it. its complicated and you just kinda have to Get It. and im sorry im like this and im sorry im so needy and cruel and awful and self-centred. i want to be a good person but everything i do seems inherently opposed to the idea, if youre someone im comfortable around.

im polite to strangers. i hold doors open and i let others go first and i wait and im. kind. i guess. and i like being kind but for some fucking reason that ability vanishes if i Know someone. and some stupid part of me still likes to think we're kind and polite, and in some ways we are. our table manners are unreal, let me tell you. but it's not the same.

it feels like, sometimes, theres this unresolvable distance in every relationship i have. dishonesty is so baked into who i am as a person that it colours everything i do. i disgust myself sometimes, if i have to ask someone else for help, even if theyre Literally my best friend. i dont like having to ask favours and i dont like not paying someone back for something they did for me. and its weird where the double standard lies. i think all i need is a thank you and ill be willing to jump off a bridge. i can do months of moderation work no problem if i get a thank you and recognition every once in a while.

i promise i had a point but i got. like. 4 hours of sleep or whatever and im sick and ive been seeing spiders for the past day and i dont know what to do.

[ghastbutlikegay]

Do you ever like psychologically analyze yourself at 8 in the morning