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floras-imagination · 7 months ago

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guitar hands 🎸✌️- matty healy x reader

summary: You can no longer hide the longing obsession for your best friend matty's hands... word count: 3.8k warnings: 18+ smut, fingering authors note: It's been ages since I've written a fanfiction, so this one might be a bit rusty. I hope you enjoy it, though.❤️ Part 2

"I can't do this anymore!", you gasped as your best friend Matty opened the door.

You walked in quickly as he opened his mouth, to greet you, but you cut him off before he could say anything, leaving him standing in the doorway, staring at you in surprise.

"I will never date anyone ever again!", you turned around, looking at a very confused Matty who was still holding the doorknob in his hands.

You pointed your index finger in the air to emphasize your words, "And this time I really mean it, so don't you dare laughing!", you frowned furiously in his direction, in a way that Matty finds terribly cute. It's a facial expression you often make when you're mad and Matty can't ever hide his little smirk when he sees you like that. But this usually makes you even angrier, which Matty doesn't mind because, obviously, he loves it.

Sometimes he even teases you a little bit to see that fuming, adorable glance of yours. But he always chooses his words carefully to make sure he doesn't hurt you with anything he says.

You threw your black bag in the corner before plopping down on the couch in his living room, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Still frowning, you focused your eyes on the floor in front of you.

He closed the door and slowly made his way over to the couch. His hair was messy and a few strands of his curls hung over his forehead. He looked a bit drowsy, like he'd just woken up from a nap.

"Well... hello, love.", it was finally his turn to speak. His voice sounded low and sleepy.

He rubbed his left eye, before placing the palm of his hand on his cheek, "It's nice to see you...", he continued.

You didn't say anything.

He sat down beside you, admiring you with a big smirk on his face. Suddenly, he seemed less and less tired. You could literally see the sleepiness leaving his body as his smirk grew wider and wider. In his head, he counted down the seconds, well aware that his silly smile was going to drive you nuts in less than five seconds. One, two, three, four...

"What?" you spat at him, turning your head to your right to face him. "Can you please stop doing that?" you asked, finally relaxing the muscles of your forehead.

"Doing what?" he giggled back at you. The "what" sounded more like a "wha". You've always had a weakness for his strong British accent. Hearing Matty talk gave you a weird feeling inside your lower belly, a feeling you've been trying to ignore ever since you first noticed it.

Matty and you had been best friends since year 9. You met him on your first day of school, just a few days after you and your family had moved from New York to Manchester. After the teacher introduced you to the class, Matty offered to give you a tour of the school. You were extremely grateful to have such a friendly classmate as Matty, and the fear of spending every break alone promptly vanished as he never left your side during breaks, welcoming you into his circle of friends.

You must admit you found him attractive, and he became even more appealing over the years. But he never made any moves that could suggest he wanted more than friendship, so you kept convincing yourself that this wasn't what you wanted either. You somewhat accustomed yourself to the idea of never getting closer to him, which made it easier to live with your hidden feelings. It has been ten years now, and sometimes you were so adept at denying your feelings that you even started to believe the lies you told yourself. In the meantime, you also had a few boyfriends and situationships where you completely forgot about your feelings for Matty due to being preoccupied.

Sadly, each of your relationships turned out to be exceedingly toxic, which made it difficult for you to focus on anything else. You constantly worried about not being enough or being too much. Days without arguments and tears were extremely rare, but Matty was always there for you.

"Oh come on, you know what I mean"

He was about to say something again, but you didn't let him.

"Looking at me like that when I'm mad. It's not funny, Matty! This is a serious situation!"

"A serious situation? Oh, okay. Well, you already said that a few weeks ago, when you came home from your date with that other bloke... Wait, what was his name again?", he paused for a moment as he touched his chin, looking up at the ceiling, pretending to think. After two seconds he gave up, because he really didn't remember the boy's name.

About 10 months ago, your boyfriend of two years broke up with you. It was a tough time for you, but Matty had been incredibly supportive. He let you sleep at his place on nights when you didn't want to be alone, which was almost every night for about a month and a half after the breakup. You cried a lot, and your best friend held you throughout the entire night, calming you down and making sure you had someone to talk to. The two of you shared a few restless nights during which neither of you got much sleep. However, cuddling was nothing new or special since you've been doing this ever since you became close friends. Matty has always craved cuddles from you, especially during movie nights or casual hangouts. You didn't read too much into it, presuming it's a normal thing best mates tend to do, but little did you know that he's been hiding his feelings as well...

When you eventually started to feel a bit better, Matty encouraged you to download some dating apps because he said something like 'the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.' That's also how the singer tried to get over his crush on you. He hooked up with numerous girls over the past years, desperately trying to feel something similar to the affection he feels in your presence, yet each trial remained unsuccessful.

You decided to give his advice a shot, and it was actually an excellent way to distract yourself from your aching heart. Though you didn't have much luck with your dates, you were at least able to get over your ridiculous ex.

"Anyway," he shrugged, "It doesn't matter."

"I don't remember his name either," you said dryly, still not averting your gaze from his face. Matty immediately turned his head to the left, now looking into your eyes as both of you burst into heavy, heartfelt laughter.

"Come here, darling..." he laughed, raising his left arm to pull you into a lovingly sweet hug.

He loved having you around and spending intimate and funny moments like this one with you. Seeing you heartbroken and sad broke his heart into a million little pieces. Lately, he's been struggling a lot with his self-control, not knowing how much longer he'll be able to keep his longing feelings for you a secret.

As you lay in his embrace, head resting on his soft, comfy chest, he snuggled his nose into your freshly washed hair, which smelled like a huge field of spring flowers.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" he mumbled against your head.

You were now completely relaxed, feeling happy in the lovely arms of your friend. "The date was horrible," you laughed, starting to tell your story. "We met up for dinner, and he was talking about himself the whole time! How he goes to the gym every single day... and it was just gym, gym, gym... and then he asked me if I did any sports, and I said no, and then he was talking some kind of bullshit again... but I wasn't even listening anymore at this point," you tittered before continuing, "Then I wanted to order some ice cream for dessert, and then he told me how unhealthy sugar was..." you couldn't stop yourself from laughing.

"No, really?" Matty laughed, still holding you tight. "What did you say then?"

"Nothing. I just grabbed my bag and left."

Matty threw his head back, roaring in laughter. "This is my girl. I'm proud of you," he breathed heavily. "I have ice cream in the freezer. You want some?"

You immediately jumped up at his words. "Yes! Please!"

He got up from the couch, preparing you a bowl of ice cream in the kitchen.

He strolled back to the living room, carrying the cold bowl in his hands. You found yourself lost in your thoughts, admiring his large, delicate fingers. You called them guitar hands, since you've seen plenty of other guitarists having these kinds of hands, but Matty's have been your favourite. The mere thought of his agile fingers touching your neck or thighs caused shivers, leaving your whole body covered with goosebumps. In your dreams, you imagined them slowly unbuttoning your jeans, gently sliding into your panties to...

You briefly shook your head, forcing the end of this forbidden daydream, after staring at Matty like you've just seen a ghost.

"Are you alright?" he questioned, throwing a rather puzzled glance at you.

"Hm...what?" you uttered, shaking your head once again. "Yeah, yes, I'm fine. I was just... nevermind," a slight chuckle left your lips, masking the huge amount of shame you felt.

"Honestly, why was I even mad?" you snickered, trying to change the topic as he handed you your much-needed dessert. "This is just so hilarious. But anyway, I meant what I said earlier. I won't go on any more dates," you licked the spoon delightfully, "I'm done. From now on, I'm going to enjoy my single era alone."

For a very brief moment, a smutty thought crossed Matty's mind as he saw your tongue gliding over the back of the spoon you held in your small, soft hand. He pushed the thought away quickly.

"Whatever makes you happy, love. I'm just glad you're finally over your ex. You were too good for him. You deserve so much more than that," he declared, fantasizing about being the man by your side, knowing you well enough to meet all your unique needs.

"Yes, I know. I don't know what I saw in him," you agreed. "But let's just forget about it, please."

He smiled, pulling you into his arms to place a peck on the side of your head. The Netflix logo popped up on the big flat screen in front of you as Matty turned on the TV. "You wanna stay with me tonight?" he asked his best friend needily, in a romantic, cuddly mood. It had been a long time since your last sleepover, and he was desperate to have you near.

Your right cheek was already pressed against Matty's chest as you were sleepily nestled in his hug, mumbling your answer "Guess you already took that decision for me, didn't you?"

"Yep," he stated, resting his head on yours. Though he couldn't imagine anything better than lying there with the one person he loved, his gracious smile was tinged with melancholy, as he couldn't shake the doubt that you would never reciprocate the depth of his feelings.

--------------------------

You found yourself waking up alone in the soft embrace of Matty's bed, the night still cloaking the world outside. With a sleepy sigh, you shifted beneath the covers to get up. The door stood slightly ajar and the enchanting sound of a guitar drifted into the moonlit room.

You opened the door, following the echoing noise of music that came from the living room. Matty was sat on the couch with a guitar on his lap, wearing his blue nike sweater. His messy curls tangled all over his forehead, making him look so effortlessly handsome in the gloomy warm light of the fairy lights hanging from the bookshelf.

He was so deeply focused in playing, he didn't even notice you already stood in the living room. Seizing the moment, you took the opportunity to observe him, particularly captivated by the way his hands deftly fingered the chords on the guitar, moving with such grace as if they were dancing in silent harmony with the music.

He looked up to see you standing in front of him, adoring your dozy appearence as he stopped strumming the strings of the guitar.

"Morning, sleepyhead", he greeted you in the usual flirtatious way. "I couldn't sleep. Wanted to work a bit on that new song. Was it too loud?"

"No, it's fine. It sounds good. Can I listen?"

"Course you can. Sit down", he demanded with a grin on his face as he continued playing.

You loved the sound of Matty's new song and even though you tried your best to concentrate on the rythm of the music, you couldn't help yourself from staring at his hands again. The way his fingers nimbly glided over the fretboard, made you think about all the other things these supple hands could do to you. A sinking feeling of guiltful embarassement was spreading inside your stomach. You hated having these lustrous thoughts while sitting in front your best friend.

While you were still submerged in your shameful thoughts, Matty slowly emerged from the trance he typically falls into when he plays the guitar. His gaze drifted over to you, curious about what you were thinking about the new piece. He observed you for a moment until he realized you were absentmindedly fixated on his left hand.

Recalling a similar situation from earlier that day, he recognized the same expression on your face as when he had brought you the bowl of ice cream.

He stopped playing, causing you to look at his eyes as your consciousness returned. "Is anything wrong with my hands?"

"What? No, why?", you raised an eyebrow, snickering nervously. "What could be wrong with your hands?"

"You've been staring at my hands again!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. When did I stare at your hands?"

"Well, just now? And earlier when I gave you the ice-cream?"

"I haven't!"

"You have! And it's not the first time I caught you doing that..."

"I was just wondering which chords you used", you declared, visibly annoyed.

"You're such a bad liar."

"No, it's true!", you tried to defend yourself.

"Ah, so you were staring? "

"I wasn't!", your voice grew louder and louder. You weren't angry at him but at yourself for not being careful enough. What if he finds out about the feelings you'd been trying so hard to hide all these years? What if your friendship ended right now, right here, in this night? The enormous weight of fear and sadness settled like a lump in your throat, making it hard to swallow. You had to swallow though, since you already felt tears coming up that needed to be hidden at all cost. It was impossible for you to gulp without making a noise as the lump of woe was already way too big to be swallowed in secret.

"Gaslighting...", Matty teased in a lighthearted manner instead of being serious or mad. He knew he was right, especially now that you seemed so offended by his question.

"Okay, that's enough. I'll go home", without hesitation you bolted upright from the couch.

Matty immediately reacted by grabbing your wrist with his right hand, while still seated on the couch, holding the neck of the guitar with his left one. You turned around to face him as he was looking deep inside of your eyes. Contrary to your expectation he was still far from being furious. You caught a glimpse of him still holding the D chord as your eyes darted around. His thumb rested on the e string, tightly gripping the guitar's neck.

"It's quarter past midnight. You're not going anywhere", he stated with a slight chuckle, his playful demeanor both infuriating and comforting you. He endeavored to soothe your frayed nerves, but his touch and gaze left you feeling uncomfortably giddy, leaving you unable to think straight. You swallowed hard, meeting his piercing stare.

As Matty's intense gaze locked onto yours, he felt the floodgates of longing burst open within him. No longer did he bother to conceal his desire.

'Now or never', he thought to himself, 'do it, you muppet!'

With another firm grip on your wrist, he summoned up all his courage, guiding you towards him with a sudden movement as he finally crushed his lips onto yours. After years and years of dreaming about this exact moment, it now became reality. And it felt even better than both of you could have ever imagined. Setting the guitar aside, he placed it to his left on the couch, drawing you closer. Pressing you gently against the cushions, he positioned his body on top of yours, eagerly seeking your lips again.

In the next thirty minutes you were having your long awaited make out session, filled with lots of wet and fiery kisses along with tender, passionate touches.

No words required, Matty was overjoyed and now well aware of the fact that you returned what he felt for you. Even though Matty didn't mention a single word, you knew it too.

"I love you so much, baby", he confessed, right before he started to work his way down your neck, placing gentle kisses on your soft skin, "I've been meaning to do this for ages"

"I love you too, Matty", you whispered, still not knowing if you were awake or dreaming.

As he was passionately devouring you, he could feel your body trembling while lust was written all over your face.

"I didn't expect you to have such a dirty mind, though.", he smirked against your neck.

"What do you mean?", your voice was shaking.

"You haven't answered my question yet"

"Which question?"

"Why you're so obsessed with my hands...",

"Matty please...", you whined.

"What?", he asked as his lips were still clung to your neck, "Tell me what you want me to do with my hands"

You gulped as feelings of overwhelming embarrassment came flooding over you again.

He slowly moved his hand from your back over your chest, sliding it down your belly, causing you to shiver even more. He stopped at the button of your jeans, resting his hand on your waist as he peeked up to lock his gaze with yours. With fluttering eyes you glanced down at him, wondering why he stopped. The intense craving for having his fingers inside of you became unbearable.

While Matty was grinning from ear to ear, finding pleasure in torturing you with his teasing touches, he raised an eyebrow at you.

"Please, Matty... I...", you stuttered, still not being able to speak properly.

"Tell me, love"

"I...", your words came out as a faint whisper, "I need you. Matty, please..."

"Where?", he whispered back at you.

"Inside me...", you finally gave him the words he wanted to hear, not caring about another wave of shame that was crashing all over you.

Not waisting any more time, he unzipped your jeans, slowly making his way into your slip. By the time his soft fingers reached your clit, you closed your eyes, throwing your head back in deep pleasure. A heavy moan left your mouth, as you were electrified by his heavenly touch that you've been craving so desperately.

"No, no, no, no, no!", he complained, "I want you to look at me."

The inability to move made it impossible for you to follow his command.

He tightened the grip between your legs as he repeated his order, "I said look at me!"

Continuing his teasing game, Matty was about to pull his hand back out of your pants, due to your disobedience, but you immediately stopped him by grabbing his hand to keep it in place. "What are you doing?", you questioned, wanting him to continue what he started.

"Uhm.. pulling my hand out.", he answered casually with a shrug, pretending it wasn't part of his little game. His plan worked out immediately when you looked at him with that cute, furious frown on your face.

"No! Why?", you protested.

Matty leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he whispered "Because only good girls deserve to be fingered by Matty Healy."

"But..."

"And you aren't one", he gently pecked the skin of your neck again.

"I am", you moaned in response to his soft kisses.

"Don't think so. If you were, you'd do what I say"

"Please Matty stop teasing me now! I can't take it any longer"

"Hmm... seems like someone's being really needy...", he kept on playing with you, "will you be a good girl for me now?"

"Yes, Matty. Yes, I will", you answered impatiently.

"Then look at me.", he said as he carefully put his hand back between your legs and this time you were following his command, being the good girl he asked you to be, though it was definitely not easy for you to keep eye contact with him.

"Now you are being a good girl. I want you to keep looking at me, okay? Will you do that for me, darling?"

You nodded in response, "Hm... yes."

All of a sudden he pushed his middlefinger inside you, causing a loud moan from you.

"That's what you were thinking about when you watched me play guitar, isn't it?", he gently whispered in your ear.

"Maybe...", you admitted between your lusty moans.

"I knew it.", he smirked, "Couldn't quite believe it though..."

"Hmm..", you hummed as he continued his skillful work with his fingers, beaming you into another dimension of reality.

While listening to your ravishing moans he kept on talking, "My best friend is a dirty slut. Unbelievable. But I'd be lying if I said i didn't think about you every time I wanked.", he winked at you with a dirty smile, roughly jabbing another finger inside your dripping wet pussy.

"Matty, I... I think I...", you stammered, having difficulties to breathe.

"Yes baby, cum for me, please", he permitted, but you were already collapsing in heated pleasure as you eventually broke the eye contact, letting your head fall onto his chest, gasping for air.

With his free arm, he hugged you, pressing your body tightly to his own. He gave you some time to calm down while you were catching your breath, before he slowly pulled out his fingers, bringing them up to your mouth, so you could lick them clean. "If that was part of your phantasies too...then...", he shook his head with a radiant smile on his face while you seemingly enjoyed sucking your juice from his elegant guitar hands, "...like... who are you? And what have you done to my best friend?"

"Shut up, Healy!", you laughed after letting go of his fingers, "and cuddle me!"

You snuggled yourself into his loving embrace, but Matty had other plans....

"Nah... later, love.", he told you with hungry eyes, "I'm not done with you yet."

Part 2

#matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy smut #matty the 1975 #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #fanfiction #fanfics #smut #the 1975 smut #matty x reader #matty healy fanfiction #imagine #matty healy imagine #guitar #guitar hands

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landinrris · 6 months ago

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It's not a Miami companion fic, but it is a drabble/snippet from a third part to this series that sees me returning to early 1910s painter Carlos, only now Carlos and Lando are living their domestic life in Madrid. So while I continually chip away at this, please enjoy a bit of Lando modeling for Carlos, and specifically modeling this pose ✌️

Carlos hums into Lando’s neck, the evidence of his smile pressed to Lando’s skin. Yeah, much better than Manchester. “So you will let me draw you today?”

“I’ll always let you draw me, you know that.”

“Yes, but you will let me pose you today maybe? I have an idea for this new work and want to get some specific ideas for the figures in the background. Angels, I’m thinking.” Lando might be able to listen to the way Carlos says angels for the rest of his life.

“Yeah? Always happy to help. What idea have you been thinking about?”

So Carlos tells him about a strong central figure. He tells Lando about the idea about the interference from heavenly creatures and how the central figure perseveres despite everything. All while Lando goes back to scrubbing their cups and sets them on the small drying rack next to the sink.

Hearing about Carlos’ ideas never fails to leave Lando in awe of how his mind is always working. It’s always reeling with possibilities and composition and color. He thinks in terms of proportions and the flow of people’s bodies.

Even without seeing a draft in front of him, Lando can picture the idea in his mind painted with the care of Carlos’ impressionistic style. The detail of his portraiture evident even in the broader expanse of a larger scene. He paints like Lando could reach out and feel the fabric himself— like he could lend a hand to the paintings’ subjects and have them step into the room with him.

To know that Lando has a hand in any of that creation feels like an honor. Especially when Carlos leads him to their small chaise and slowly strips him of the clothes he had managed to put on following leaving their room. The kisses Carlos presses into his collarbone and chest do absolutely nothing for Lando’s resolve, but this is par for the course as well.

Carlos says he does it because it always brings a pretty blush to Lando’s skin that makes it that much easier to not have to imagine. Lando’s half inclined to believe him when his kisses never lead to any kind of payoff, but that doesn’t mean they don’t drive Lando a little bit insane. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t sigh and slide a hand into Carlos’ hair as Carlos peels his trousers down his legs.

But Carlos pulls away before Lando can get him where he wants and begins manuevering Lando into his desired position. He folds one of Lando’s legs up and drapes the other one so it’s hanging off the chaise. He does the same to Lando’s hands, bringing them to rest above his head and practically crossing at the wrist. The touch he gives Lando’s chin to tilt back so he’s staring at his hands feels vulnerable in a way he’s not completely used to. Not while Carlos is still dressed at least.

“If you wanted to draw me looking like we’re in the middle of having sex, you could’ve just told me,” Lando chides.

Carlos tsks. “Ay, Lando behave.”

“What, like you are?”

He gets up almost in response and walks into the other room. Lando only moves his head enough to see the hallway after a handful of seconds. Naturally, Carlos catches him when he returns with the sheet from the spare bedroom. “You have forgotten how to not move.”

Lando returns his head to as close to what he’s pretty sure it was before as he can, though he’s unable to keep the smile off his face. “Is that to protect my modesty?”

“No, you are an angel, remember? Keep up.”

“Angels wear loin cloths?” He looks down his body to see Carlos accordion-folding the fabric into a longer strip before kneeling between Lando’s legs and draping it gently over him. The sight is admittedly too much, so Lando redirects his gaze over to the wall and takes in steadying lungfuls of air. Judging by the amused hum from Carlos, it’s not quite enough.

“Trust the process. They certainly do not wear wrinkled trousers and a slept-in undershirt.”

“Touché,” Lando concedes before taking a steadying breath again.

When Carlos’ hands leave him seemingly for good, Lando mourns the loss. Carlos isn’t in his sightline where Lando judges he sets himself up in one of the chairs across the room. Lando can hear the scratch of his pencil against paper— quick, sure strokes alternating with quieter and seemingly exploratory ones.

Even though he can’t see him, Lando can imagine the look of concentration on Carlos’ face, the way his eyebrows crease in the middle, the way he sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth as he tries to get the particular curve of something right. Lando wonders if maybe it’s one of his muscles this time that makes Carlos sigh petulantly as he rubs the art gum over his lines. Maybe it’s the jut of his jaw tipped towards the ceiling that Carlos can’t get the perspective just right on.

What certainly doesn’t help quell Lando’s excitement is the way he imagines Carlos staring at the draped fabric around his lower stomach and hips. Does it turn Carlos on just a bit to draw the arch in Lando’s back— to shade the fabric that the empty space creates on the chaise? Carlos is staring at him, and Lando’s relegated to being a good model lying in wait until Carlos decides they’re done for the afternoon.

It can’t have been more than fifteen minutes.

Carlos hums from his perch, and Lando swears his skin burns.

#two ciders deep and thought ''you know what? fuck it. snippet because i love them and i love this universe still''#my perpetual bed time story universe #carlando #birdsong au core #writing tag #husbands™

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its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

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Hello! I absolutely love your work. You’re a fantastic writer. Is it possible for you to do something based a bit off of the song London Boy by Taylor Swift? If not I understand. I just feel there’s some cool way to tie it with Jamie Tartt. Sorry if it’s a bit of a generic request

ALRIGHTY gotta preface this, I actually hate this song 😂 Lyrics aren’t bad, but the like accent thing she does makes me die a little bit. BUT. I saw what you were going for (I think)! So here it is, I suffered through listening to this song bc you asked for a fic and I am nothing if not eager to please.

This is also a response to two other requests. So if that was you, ✌️😗 y’all were on the same page, congratulations. This is also my first song-based fic, although all of my works are (very, very loosely) based on songs. That’s why they have such insane titles😅 ANYWAY that’s enough talking from me. Enjoy!

i fancy you

i love my hometown as much as Motown, i love So-Cal

Richmond in London is very different from your hometown in Southern California. It’s colder, for one. And older. Things in California don’t have the same extended history as they do in England. You’re here visiting family for a couple months, although your cousins are trying to convince you to stay longer.

“What do you really have waiting for you in California?” Holland asks.

“Uh, the beach. Sun. Great Mexican food.” you respond.

Holland isn’t buying it. “When else are you going to be able to live here? We can help you get a job and all that, not a huge problem.”

Holland is very convincing. You decide to stay for a year, single year, and see what happens.

Holland is four years older than you, and has always been the cousin you’re closest to. You’ve had a long-standing bond since being the two eldest sisters in your family. Holland takes you to clubs and introduces you to her friends, including a Miss Keeley Jones who thinks you are “abso-fuckin-lutely adorable.”

“You have to bring her to a Richmond match, babes,” Keeley says. “Lots of fit footballers.” She winks.

You ask Keeley of she’s dating a footballer.

“Oh god no,” she shudders. “A coach.”

You don’t really see the difference.

saw the dimples first and then i heard the accent

It was a good match, even you can tell. The Richmond team played seamlessly, passing the ball back and forth without letting the other team even touch it. Their conductor of sorts, the one mediating the passes, was crazy. He never seemed to get tired, anticipating his teammates’ moves and those of the opposing team. It seemed like he was always five steps ahead of everyone. Holland notices you watching him and pokes Keeley.

“You like Jamie?” Keeley laughs. “Makes sense. Anyone with eyes likes him. He’s right fit, too. Good in bed, shit with feelings. Well, used to be. Still fucking cocky.”

That’s interesting. “You’ve been with him?” you ask.

Keeley gives you a 50/50 hand motion. “Sort of. Don’t really count it, do I? Was with him at his fucking worst. That’s why Roy fucking hates him.”

“He’s much better now,” Holland chimes in. “Something happened last season and he stopped being such a dick.”

“Holland!” you reproach, laughing. “That’s not nice!”

She and Keeley shrug. “It’s true though, innit?”

You don’t know if it is, because when you first see Jamie up close in the club later that night, he seems perfectly fine. You see a flash of a smile, a dimple, then he says something (you don’t know what) but his accent is… something else. It’s not like Holland’s, or any of your family, but you know enough to pinpoint it to Manchester.

“The accent got you, didn’t it?” says a voice near your ear and you yelp as Holland slides her arm around your shoulder.

“Gets the best of us,” says Keeley, grabbing your hand. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”

She drags you over despite your protests.

he likes my American smile, like a child when our eyes meet, ‘darling i fancy you’

Regular dinner dates are scary, but dinner dates with a Premier League footballer are downright terrifying.

You made Holland help you figure out what to wear, and when she showed up at your aunt’s house she had Keeley in tow.

“Heard you’re in need of a bit of a makeover,” she grins. “Lucky for you, that’s my specialty.”

Keeley and Holland have brought some of Holland’s dresses and you’re in a dark green one that “does fucking wonders for your hair, babe.”

Keeley did your makeup while Holland curled your hair and just like that, you’re ready to go.

You groan, “God, I fucking hate first dates,” while shaking out your arms.

“It’ll be fine,” Holland promises, and she’s right.

It’s more than fine. It’s fucking fantastic.

“I like your smile,” Jamie says. “Fuckin’ American, it is.”

You laugh. “What does that even mean?”

Jamie shrugs. “It’s bigger. Brits are more reserved. Like Roy. You met Roy yet? Biggest fucking twat I ever saw,” but he says it with such affection that you’re sure he means something else.

His eyes are electric, blue and dazzling. They betray his every thought and feeling and right now you feel like if you hold his gaze any longer you’re going to say something completely stupid.

Turns out your not the one to say something stupid; he is.

You’re walking back to his car, holding hands and swinging them in between you when he stops and says, “Darling, I fancy you.”

You grin and he returns it. He asks, “Was that British enough for you? Feel like you got the whole experience?”

“Definitely,” you say. “Was I American enough for you?”

“Dunno,” he replies, “Got to test one more thing.”

His lips are very soft on yours.

met all of his best mates, so i guess all the rumors are true

“This is Isaac, Colin, Dani, and Sam.”

Jamie is introducing you to some of his team. You’ve been dating for a month now, and your first picture together just popped up in the papers the night before.

The boys of AFC Richmond were pretty sure Jamie was seeing someone, but they didn’t know who it was. Jamie had set up this dinner thing a while ago, it just so happened that the tabloids got to you first.

It’s not even that great a picture honestly, but you’d been around Nelson Road enough that the boys were able to recognize you.

It’s a little unnerving to meet them, what with Isaac’s intense stare and Dani’s wide, wide smile. You’re grateful Colin and Sam are acting normal.

“We have an American coach,” Colin says in an attempt to break the ice. It does, because you’re all laughing at the absurdity of his attempt.

“We have heard very much about you,” Dani says and you wonder if he ever stops smiling. It feels so weird and so normal to be at Jamie’s house with a pile of food and FIFA queued up on the TV, ready to go. You figure that if you’re meeting his friends, Jamie must be at least a little serious. He finds your hand and squeezes it under the table as Isaac cracks his first smile of the night. It’s weird dating a footballer, but you think you can get used to it.

babes, don’t threaten me with a good time

Jamie’s house is the largest you’ve ever been in, and it used to be strange that it was only just the two of you, clattering around that big home.

It’s a cool night after a warm day so you both decided to lay in his backyard under the stars.

It feels so much like something you’d do as a teenager, and you tell Jamie as much.

“Used to sneak on me mum’s roof,” he tells you. “Didn’t even do dumb shit, I’d just go to look.”

You lay there in silence for a few moments until you feel something tickle your side.

“Jamie!” you shriek.

“I didn’t do nothing!” he protests. “Must’ve been a bug.”

You don’t believe him, but you don’t push it until you feel another tickle.

“Babe!”

“Babe, it weren’t me, I swear,” he says and you really don’t believe him, especially when he tickles you again less than a minute later.

You laugh. “Fuck you, Jamie Tartt.”

He smirks. “Babe, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“Hm, maybe I want a good time.”

Jamie’s grin widens and he sits up. “You know where the bedroom is, love.”

you know i love a London boy

“I don’t fucking get it,” Jamie says. You shrug.

“I literally don’t either,” you say. Your dad leans over to Jamie. “So basically…” he begins.

He’s halfway through his explanation when Jamie pokes you. “Babe,” he says, “can we switch seats so I can hear your dad better?” You chuckle then wiggle your way into Jamie’s seat while he gets into yours.

“Why the fuck is it called ‘football’ if it’s with their hands?” Jamie asks.

Your dad shrugs. “Not a clue, son, not a clue.”

The game progresses and one of the teams scores a touchdown.

“Hold the fuck up,” Jamie says. “Why did their score change that much?”

“I know this one!” you exclaim. “Different types of goals get different points. And there’s something called a lateral which has to do with moving backward I think?”

You dad just shakes his head with a grin and doesn’t attempt to clarify.

Your dad spends the second half explaining everything to a very focused Jamie, and he asks questions the entire car ride home. It’s funny have Jamie here in America, staying at your parents house and seeing where you grew up.

When you’re finally back home and in bed, you pull him as close as you can and whisper, “I love you very, very much. You know that, right?”

You can feel Jamie smile against your hair. “I love you too, very fucking much.”

#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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