#thanks jamie for the clip

[jaynovz]

[vid id: a clip from the opening scene of Black Sails episode 1.5. Captain Flint is standing at the rail of the Walrus peering out over the ocean as Billy walks over to him. Flint: "You don't trust me, do you?" Billy looks over at Flint with an increasingly baffled expression. Flint continues speaking: "With any luck, we'll sight the Andromache soon." Flint turns around to face Billy and begins slowly walking towards him, arms folded behind him in parade rest. "The battle will begin. You and I will have our roles to play." He stares intently at Billy and with great emphasis, in a near-chiding tone, continues saying: "We have the chance for a few minutes' honesty first." Billy keeps staring at Flint, flabbergasted during a pause and then repeats back, with GREAT incredulity. "Honesty?" The shot lingers on Billy's "are you kidding me" face before fading out. Emphasis is mine. /end id] --

That moment when your boss is continually trying to bamboozle you right to your FACE

[pancakehauses]

The cast of Next to Normal (+ Nitai Levi, + the Donmar cast of The Band's Visit) performing Light on March 4th, 2024, at a celebration for Michael Longhurst upon his departure as Artistic Director of the Donmar Warehouse.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 1

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: 18+ Chapter Summary: To save money for law school, you accept a job at Maid Discretely; a high end, anonymous cleaning service. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in, more than just your curiosity peaks.  CW: Author chooses not to use warnings in this chapter in order to avoid spoilers. While I never want to trigger anyone, you are solely responsible for the content you consume. AN: Oh boy, here we go! I'm in a straight PANIC getting ready to post this. I hope it meets all your expectations, I was not at all expecting that reaction to the teaser post. Love you all and thank you for all your support. Please share or comment, I have a praise kink LOL. Follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on notifications for future chapters. Dividers and support banners by @saradika-graphics. Thank you @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk and @burntheedges for being my little cheerleaders over this, ily!! Chapter Word Count: 4.4k

You stare down at the very intimidating legal document you have clasped in your clammy hands. There are so many big legal sounding words that seem to be mocking you with their importance. Somehow there are clauses that have sub clauses that are then further broken down into sub-subclauses. It feels heavy to be handed this on a Monday morning. Truthfully, this doesn’t seem like something a soon-to-be twenty-one year old woman who literally just graduated college, albeit a semester early, should be allowed to sign without parents and a lawyer present. 

This is just supposed to be a simple job working part time as a maid for your best friend's family’s cleaning company. A job where she promised easy money and part time hours that you set for yourself. The perfect opportunity for you to be able to save money AND set aside lots of study time for your upcoming LSAT rewrite. You passed it a few months ago and applied to a bunch of law schools, but you aren’t going to waste these next few months waiting around. You know how competitive law schools can be, so you’re preparing to be better just in case you don’t get in.

Your eyes scan words that your brain can’t seem to comprehend. The internal panic starts to bubble in your chest, someone who has law aspirations should know what these words mean.

This is just supposed to be easy. Cleaning. Vacuuming. Washing floors. Simple things. 

But now, as you sit in this shiny, fancy downtown office building looking at your full legal name typed beside a bunch of ‘initial here’ and ‘sign here’ lines on a nondisclosure agreement you’re starting to feel like this is anything but simple. 

“Our clientele is VERY exclusive,” your childhood best friend Jamie says. She looks very professional and grown up sitting behind her glass desk. Her long, toned legs are crossed, the slit along the side of her crisp, white pencil skirt showing off her tanned upper thigh. She’s paired her white skirt with a baby pink silky blouse that's perfectly tucked into the high waist of the skirt. Her long, dark silky hair is twisted into a jeweled claw clip. Even though you’re the same age she has an air of sophistication and grace, even with winged eyeliner, a matte pink lip, and a slender rose gold septum ring that sits tight to her little button nose. She almost screams old Hollywood in the middle of Austin, Texas. 

She continues, “You won’t know the names of the clients and they will never be home. If they do come home, leave immediately, and try your best not to be seen or heard. Then you can fill out in the company app what you did and didn’t manage to get done.” 

You put the paper down on her perfect desk so she can’t see your hands shaking. How can you work at that desk all day and not get a single fingerprint or smudge on it? There’s a very good chance that I am not cut out for this. This is fancy. And expensive. I’m neither of those things. 

“What am I gonna be walking in on at these houses, Jamie?” You ask, swallowing the fiberglass that’s suddenly prickling at your throat. 

Jamie shakes her head and laughs, saying your name through her melodic giggles. “Most likely nothing. We’ve never had an encounter or run in with a client. They pick times for cleaners to come when they aren’t home.” She leans back in her high backed chair and continues, “But the clients are big deals. Politicians. Judges. Athletes. The odd celebrity. They don’t want anyone in their home that will snoop or snap pictures. Hence the NDA.” 

“Well, why didn’t you start with that!” You laugh. “Jesus, I thought I’d be walking into like a virginal sacrifice or some shit!” 

“Well, there was that one time…” Your face drops and she immediately starts laughing again. “I’m kidding. Relax. Look, you’ll probably get three homes a week, each house will take six to eight hours. The hourly pay is twenty dollars plus whatever tip they’ll leave you in these black envelopes.” 

She puts a perfectly polished finger on a stack of black envelopes with a red ‘Maid Discretely’ logo on it and continues, “In my experience, the tips are around five hundred, completely tax free. This is a good gig! You’ll be in law school becoming smarter than all of us in no time. Fuck, you’ll be writing insane contracts like those before we know it.” 

She stands, one hand resting on the desk while the other slides the paper towards you with a closed pen. She drops the writing apparatus on top of it, the metal casing of the pen clanging loudly on her glass desk. You let out an exasperated sigh, dramatically clicking the pen before signing the NDA. Jamie claps her hands excitedly then snatches the contract away before you can rip it up and says, “Let’s get your uniform and supplies!”

She hands you a few fitted white polo style t-shirts, black dress pants, white Keds (that she scolds are for inside the houses only), a caddy full of high end cleaning supplies, a top of the line Dyson vacuum and everything else you’ll need.

She ends your meeting with instructions on how the company's scheduling and tracking app works. "Essentially, you set the days and times you’re available and it will populate for you. You’ll have addresses, dates and times, as well as tasks to be done, all nicely laid out for you. If a client likes you, they can request you for additional shifts, but for continuity purposes you should get the same couple houses that you’ll rotate through throughout the month."

You nod along, mostly surprised to hear the girl who did a keg stand just a few days ago sound so professional, using words like 'continuity purposes'.

The next day you have your first official shift. Tuesday from nine to three and you’re scheduled at a mansion in a neighborhood you’ve never heard of and you most definitely wouldn’t fit in to. Jamie is already waiting there for you when you pull up. She explained yesterday that she’d help you with the first one and then you are on your own after that. Well, not completely alone. Your iPhone is loaded full of smutty audio books, murder podcasts, and law books to listen to as you clean. 

Jamie was right, you think to yourself as you scroll to the latest romance novel you’ve downloaded and grab your AirPods, this is a good gig.

The house is absolutely massive, and you highly doubt you’ll be done in six hours. You gather all your stuff and head up to the house. Jamie shows you where the company supplied key box is and how to open it from the app. As you grab the key Jamie excitedly says, “This used to be my client. He always leaves a huge tip!”

You unlock the large front glass door and enter into a white marble foyer. The windows on the first floor are easily ten feet tall and allow in so much natural light. Gold and obsidian swirls in the marble reflect along the walls, dancing in the sunlight. To the left of the front door is a large open kitchen that might be bigger than your entire apartment. The marble of the expansive countertop is the same colour as the foyer. All the cabinetry is matte black with brushed gold handles. The kitchen opens into a lavish living room, a massive fireplace and TV sits on the far back left wall, encompassed by a very cozy looking white sectional. 

To the right of the front door, starting furthest away from where you stand in awe, is a door to a huge half bathroom, followed by a long table with a bowl for keys and mail, and then the door that leads to the garage. About fifty feet in front of you is a grand staircase that branches out to the left and right. Beyond the staircase you can see into the backyard. This is by far the nicest house you’ve ever been in.

As both you and Jamie slip into your keds she says, “Upstairs to the left are a few bedrooms and the office. I usually started there and then went to the right side where he has a huge entertainment area. Then I would clean down here since he doesn’t cook very often and it’s usually just a quick wipe down.”

Just as you start to panic over how you’re supposed to remember all this she nudges you and adds, “But that’s all in the app for you, most of the clients are very particular so they’ll lay out exactly what order you should be cleaning in, as well as any other extra things they need done.” 

She helps you carry all your stuff upstairs and then watches you work. Sure enough, the app says to start in the office so you do just that. Careful not to disturb the few piles of paperwork you dust the desk and shelves and then wipe down the windows and computer screen. You vacuum the hardwood and plush rug last and after Jamie gives you an approving nod, you move onto the next room.

You continue like that, going from room to room, your friend, and now boss, occasionally giving feedback or leaving to answer a phone call or respond to an email. The job is easy enough; repeating the same steps in each room over and over again. It’s the exact type of work you exceed at. You enjoy having clear sets of instructions and expectations, and a prioritized list where you can start at the top and work down. You’ve always excelled at following meticulous directions in school. Your life maybe not so much. When it comes to dating or your parents you aren’t one to do what you’re told.

When one o’clock rolls around you just have one bathroom upstairs and the already pristine downstairs to tend to, but Jamie coaxes you into taking your break, which is another thing you’re bad at. You were raised not to take breaks, taking a break or doing nothing means you're lazy. You should be working all the time, and pushing yourself to accomplish things. As a child you’d push and push yourself to be the best, honor roll ceremonies were the only time your dad would show up. He’d smile and brag about you to whoever was around.

“It’s important that you take all your supplies to your car with you when you eat your lunch. Never eat in their homes and never park on their driveways.” You nod and hoist all your stuff to the front step. “Make sure you lock up like you’re leaving too.” 

“How am I doing so far?” You ask as you lock the door, your stomach growling loudly as if it needs to prove to her how hard you’re working. You hadn’t realized how much of an appetite you’d gain just from cleaning. The few stale crackers and small can of tuna you managed to find in your cupboard this morning doesn’t seem like it’s going to be enough. 

“Really well! I actually think I might leave you to finish up. Don’t forget to take whatever he left for you out of the black envelope on the kitchen counter.” She doesn’t look up at you, her fingers tapping out an email on her shiny iphone screen. She doesn’t have her phone in a case and you can only imagine the level of self confidence you have to have to carry around an expensive item unprotected like that.

“Is it weird that there’s no pictures or anything of the family that lives here?” You say curiously as you both walk towards your parked vehicles. 

“No,” she says flatly. “I think it’s just one person here and that’s pretty normal for the houses you’ll be cleaning. Lots of them are rarely home or only home to sleep.” 

You gawk at the massive house from across the street as you throw all your supplies in the back of your used and rusted SUV. One person lives here. Alone. How is this possible? He’s clearly doing well for himself. Either he’s really lonely or a complete asshole. 

After you eat, you head back inside to finish up cleaning. The entire house looks like a show home. Not a single thing out of place. The kitchen seems staged, void of life aside from a tiny droplet of coffee on the countertop beside the Italian coffee maker, and a tiny brown stegosaurus toy that sits on top of it. Two minutes before the end of your shift you do a final sweep to make sure you haven’t left anything behind and then slip open the black envelope. Inside you find seven one hundred dollars and a note that just says ‘TY - JM’.

As you log your day in the company app you can’t believe you just made seven hundred freaking dollars to clean up after a man who makes no messes. You excitedly check your upcoming schedule and it looks like you’ll be back here in two more weeks. You could potentially be getting fourteen hundred dollars a month from this elusive “JM”. A man with no pictures or personal touches in his shiny white, black and gold mansion.

It’s been almost two weeks since your first clean at JM’s house. Your other clients were good tippers, usually between four to five hundred, but you’ve been looking forward to going back. You know you’re not supposed to know who the clients are, but you couldn’t help but google JM to try to figure out who he is and how he has so much money. In hindsight, you guess all your clients have money, but something about him has alerted your curiosity. He seems like smoke, or a ghost, in his own home. Your other clients had some sort of semblance of life in their houses. A dent in the pillow. An open newspaper on the kitchen table. A coffee cup dropped in the sink before they headed off to whatever fancy job they have to afford such a massive house. A toilet seat left up or a smudge of toothpaste on the mirror. 

But not JM. 

No, the only thing JM left was a tiny droplet of coffee. Coffee that was probably imported straight from Italy. You’re almost ashamed of the amount of times you’ve wondered about that stegosaurus toy. It seems so out of place in his house of clean lines and sterility. 

You’re just settling in to enjoy a Sunday night of sushi, rosé and Bridgerton with your roommate when your phone bings, a little red notification bubble popping up on the Maid Discretely app. You have an added shift request for JM tomorrow. Instead of one six hour shift on Tuesday you now have two six hour shifts. You accept the request and scroll through the tasks. He’s requested you to wipe the baseboards and lightswitches on the main floor, a deep scrub of every bathroom, as well as doing the inside of the fridge, stove and microwave. There are also instructions for washing the sheets in the main bedroom, and spraying down the patio furniture around the pool.

Only a millionaire in Texas would ask for his pool furniture to be cleaned in February. 

Shortly after you accept the shift you get a text from Jamie:

Saw you accepted the shift. The client asked for the normal clean on the first day, please. Extras the next day. Thanks.

The following morning you head to the large, bright mansion. Parking across the street and hauling all your stuff in. It feels a bit weird to be here on a Monday and you have a feeling you’ll be reminding yourself all day that it is indeed Monday and not Tuesday.

You get all your stuff together, change into your indoor company issued keds and head up the stairs. The pink and orange hues of the sunrise glitters off the white marble tiles, glints of gold and sparkling black reflecting off of it. You take a second to look down from the landing as you pop in your airpods. It really is a beautiful home, and it’s too bad that whoever lives here is either lonely or an asshole, but for a split second you let yourself pretend that you and JM just finished making love and he’s now in the kitchen making you an espresso or a latte with that insanely fancy coffee machine in the kitchen. You shake your head at yourself. You didn’t find anything when googling, which isn’t surprising since two letters aren’t much to go on, but this house seems to draw you in, like it’s calling to you. It’s strange, it’s almost like you have a crush on this house and you couldn’t help but make a whole persona for whoever lives here. Even with its clean lines and lack of life, something about it settles in your gut, it feels like home. 

You scroll your podcast app trying to pick what episode you want to listen to and head down the hall, you can’t seem to decide so you pocket your phone without starting anything and reach for the matte black handle of the office door. You’re expecting to see JM’s tidy office with a few stacks of paperwork in one corner, but the sight you find before you has all the blood rush from your head and your stomach dropping right out of your body. Your jaw drops and you freeze in utter shock and fear.  

Instead of the usual stacks of paper, there’s an icy blond haired woman tied to the desk. She’s completely naked and on her back with her legs spread wide. Her ankles are tied to the legs of the desk with a scratchy looking rope, her wrists wrapped in matching rope and resting above her head. Her nipples are almost purple underneath the clothespin attached to them. You freeze, just the lewd wet noises of her pussy being worked furiously by the mysterious, fully clothed JM. His deep, commanding, gravel filled voice reverberates through the office. “Little fuckin' slut. Gonna split you in two.”

The woman lets out an unashamed cry of pleasure. Your entire body seems to go numb as your caddy falls from your hand, crashing loudly against the hardwood flooring. His head whips to the side, the icy blonde woman letting out a scream and trying to cover herself up. Your hands cover your mouth and even though you can’t feel your legs you spin and run for the stairs.

“Fuck. Fuck. Wait,” JM calls after you.

One of your AirPods falls from your ear as you run, you’re tempted to stop and grab it but you need to get out of here. Jamie’s voice echoes through your skull, ‘try your hardest not to be seen or heard’. 

He catches up to you as you reach the front entryway, his strong hand pushing the door closed. You can feel the heat of his body against your back. You’re shaking - both from being terrified and embarrassed. You have so many thoughts running through your mind. This will get you fired, or worse, you could have just possibly lost the company a client. Fuck. You aren’t supposed to know who lives here and you certainly aren’t supposed to see them doing that. 

“Please wait,” he says softly behind you and the heat of his broad body sends a chill down your spine.

The blood is rushing through your ears as your heart pounds in your throat. You don’t like confrontation and even with the softness in his voice, you’re sure he’s about to scream at you. You feel sick, and when you replay the words he said to the woman upstairs, and the sound of her moan that made you drop your caddy you start to feel dizzy and nervous.

Your hand falls from the handle of the front door and the brick wall of a man behind you steps back. You spin slowly to face him but keep your eyes on the floor. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, linking your fingers in front of you and focusing all your attention on the cuticle of your right thumb.

“No, please. This is my fault.” You trail your eyes from the floor to him. He's in perfectly pressed black dress pants paired with a white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his forearms and he’s holding his hands up in front of himself as if to show you he isn’t armed or as a way to say 'you’re safe here'. 

You flick your eyes up to his face and he’s looking at you softly, the morning sunrise lighting up his tanned face and salt and pepper hair. JM is probably twice your age, but he is incredibly handsome. 

“I am so sorry. I must’a got my days mixed up when I booked you.” He says, a soft southern accent sneaking out. 

“I’m going to get fired,” you respond shakily.

“No,” he says stepping forward, you subsequently take a step back, pressing your body against the glass front door. Something about this man makes you nervous, but not in the same way women are trained to be nervous of strange men that are almost twice their size. “No. This is my fault. Please, let me explain. I jus’ gotta - well, can I go deal with…” his head cocks towards the stairs, “And then let me explain. Please?” 

You look at him, his handsome face all soft and apologetic. His dark brown and amber eyes dance around your face and without realizing you're even doing it, you nod your head. 

“Thank you,” he drops his hands at his side, visibly relaxing at your decision not to run. “Sit at the island for me. I’ll be back.” 

He watches you as you pad over to the island. The tall bar chair squeaks on the tile floor as you pull it out. He peels his eyes from you and heads upstairs. When you sit you have to stop from moaning out, the pressure of your body weight there sends a wave of rolling pleasure through you.

What the fuck? 

It’s a dull, throbbing ache followed by a small gush of thick wetness. Did you mistake a feeling of arousal for dizziness and nervousness upstairs? Were you turned on by what you just witnessed? 

Certainly not. There’s no way! He was, well, he wasn’t being nice to that woman. 

Soon you hear footsteps coming down the stairs and towards the foyer, his body blocks her from your view as they talk at the front door. They speak in hushed voices, all you’re able to make out is her saying thank you followed by the sound of a soft kiss and then she’s gone. 

She thanked him? It seems like he should be thanking her. 

He wanders into the kitchen and your throat goes impossibly dry. As if he can read your every need, he grabs a glass from the cabinet, puts it under the water dispenser on his fridge door and then slides the glass across the large island to you. You have to lift off the chair to reach it, whispering a thank you before taking a sip. 

JM leans against the countertop beside the fridge and watches you take a long drink. You put the glass down with a quiet clink and then fold your hands in your lap. His eye contact is intense, not in a creepy way, it’s almost like he’s assessing you. You find it hard to look at him so you avert your gaze to the glass. 

He clears his throat gently before he starts. “I jus’ want to say how sorry I am. You didn’t consent to seein’ any of that and I can’t imagine how awful that was for you.” His voice is so calm and soft. 

You flick your eyes up to him, “No, this is my fault. I am not suppose-“

JM shakes his head and holds up one hand, signaling you to stop. “No. This was me. I got my days mixed up. Meant to book ya for next week. This ain’t on you. This was my mistake. If it’s ok for me to ask, what’s your name?” 

You mumble your name into your glass and down the rest of your water. You figure you’re probably fired either way so who cares if he knows who you are. His face ticks up slightly, almost like he’s proud of you for drinking, and says your name back to you. 

“I ain’t gonna say anythin’ to your boss and I understand if you want to leave for the day. I’ll pay ya either way. I also understand if you say somethin’ to them and I can’t be a client anymore. It was unacceptable for me to be doin’ that when you’re supposed to be here. There ain’t any other way to word it. I was inappropriate and wrong.” He steps forward and holds his hand out so you slide the glass across to him. 

He refills it and puts it back for you to grab. “No,” you say, your voice cracking. After clearing your throat you continue, “No, I appreciate your apology but I’m not going to say anything.” 

He watches you again as you drain the glass, the same look of pride flashes across his eyes, “I’ll - umm - I’ll be in my office. You can uh,” he runs a hand through his scruff, “You just do whatever you need. I’ll stay outta your way.” 

He disappears before you can say anything else. You head up the stairs after a few minutes to find your cleaning caddy sitting in the hall with everything placed neatly where it belongs. His office door is closed and you can hear the deep rumble of his voice while he’s on a call. You grab your things, head into the master bedroom and begin cleaning. 

A few hours later while you’re sitting in your car eating lunch, the garage door opens and JM goes whipping past you in the sexiest blacked out sports car you’ve ever seen. He doesn’t even look over you as he speeds by. Your heart sinks, it's unexplainable but being in that house with him there, even after what you witnessed, felt more comfortable than being alone. JM must have some sort of magic touch, how you went from nervous and embarrassed to calm and comforted with just the look on his face and few words is beyond you.

After wiping down the kitchen you are all done for the day. You grab the black and red envelope off the kitchen counter and open it, peering in nervously. There’s a piece of matte black paper on top. You slide it out gently, the paper feels expensive between your fingers. As you unfold it you reveal a shiny black JMK logo at the top. In neat gold lettering is his writing.

‘Please know how sorry I am. Your consent is more important than anything. I broke that. Just hope I didn't break your trust. -Joel Miller.’

At the bottom of the envelope are ten crisp one hundred dollar bills. 

Next Chapter

[inkdrinkerworld]

may i request james giving reader princess treatment?? like with a reader who gets stressed a lot, but feels at ease and safe with him??? you are genuinely such a good writer

James is the king of princess treatment.

You’re fresh out of the shower, hair already pinned up in curls that you’re dying to take down.

James had told you that he’d wanted to take you somewhere special tonight and that all you had to do was go get ready.

That was two hours ago and now your makeup’s done, your hair is set and you’re shimmying into the white dress he’d laid out on the bed for you.

“Hi angel,” he kisses your temple just as he finishes buttoning his own white shirt. “You look stunning.”

You tut, “You haven’t even seen my hair yet.” James shrugs, reaching for the bottle of your hair oil and motioning to your vanity chair.

“Let me help you take it down,” his fingers are gentle as he releases the clips one at a time, twirling the curls like he’s seen you do a million times.

By the time they’re all done, James looks a little more lovelorn and you look a little more lovesick- more so when he squeezes just a touch of your Moroccan oil into his palms and then rakes it through your hair.

“See? Fucking gorgeous.” James groans as he watches your own hands go through your hair and place it just the way you like. “Close your eyes, baby.”

He shakes the can of hairspray before the hiss and the coldness of it touches your skin.

“Thanks Jamie,” you kiss his cheek, giggling when you see the transfer of red lipstick standing out against his skin. “You’re the best.”

He smiles, “You’re cute. C’mon, I’ve got a bouquet downstairs for you,” he leans into your ear. “All red and pink lilies.”

You swear you could cry at how attentive James is. How effortlessly loving and affectionate and open he is in his adoration for you, it makes you a little giddy honestly.

“What have you got planned, Potter?” Your arms sling around his neck as you get up on your toes so your lips are brushing.

“Just loving on m’heart.” God your knees would give out if it weren’t for his strong arms corded around your waist. “Let me get your heels and perfume and then we can head out, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You’re the wistful, sappy, overflowing with love sounding one now, especially when James looks at you like you’re all he could have ever wanted.

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen: Wembley

Plot: After a devastating blow is dealt to Y/n and Keeley, Jamie invites Y/n to join him for his England debut.

Word Count: 6.4k

Warning: f!reader, language, alcohol, allusion to smut

A/N: GUYS WE HAVE ARRIVED. I had to take an unexpected month break because I was just burning out. Thanks to all of you for staying patient and being so kind. But y’all, I’ve been looking forward to this chapter for a long time. I won’t say too much or else I’ll say everything so relax, sit back, and enjoy 💖

——————

Y/n wasn’t sat at her desk refreshing her inbox every fifteen seconds.

Absolutely not.

She wasn’t.

Except she was.

She knew full well that Ted had the list of which Greyhounds would be playing during international break. She could pop downstairs and probably hear the announcement. But it wasn’t her place to barge in on the boys’ moment. And that was fine with her. Totally fine.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she mumbled, waiting for the league’s PR department to end her suffering.

Finally, it arrived.

Y/n leaned closer to her laptop screen and flew past the pleasantries. The names…

She exclaimed something between a gasp and a scream.

Without another thought, she leapt out of her chair, flew through the hall and down the stairs. Luckily, the team was just heading out for practice.

“Let’s go, Greyhounds!” Y/n cheered, an echoing chorus following.

She hugged and congratulated Colin, Dani, Van Damme and Bumbercatch, all of them giddily accepting her thanks. Y/n had a new appreciation for each of the Greyhounds after observing so many training sessions. They put their hearts and soul into their craft and deserved every bit of their success.

As the boys headed out to the pitch, Y/n stayed in the hall, waiting for one player in particular to emerge.

Finally, Jamie came out of the locker room nearly bursting with joy.

As if she could feel the air change, Y/n spun around, grinning. The two of them collided in a crushing embrace, Jamie lifted her off the ground.

“Oh my gosh,” she squealed into his shoulder, “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Jamie said. He’d taken an extra long minute fixing himself for training. He’d heard Y/n’s voice in the hall congratulating the lads and wanted to share his own moment with her away from everyone else.

He finally set her down, giving Y/n the chance to properly face him. “Jamie,” she bounced a little, gripping his shoulders, “England. Fucking England.”

Jamie laughed, still holding onto her hips.

“Fucking England,” she said once more, looking him over proudly, “This is amazing.”

They stood there, inches away from being back in each other’s arms, til Ted and Beard’s distant voices grew closer. They dropped their hands just as the coaches came out of their office.

“Hey, Y/n,” Ted greeted as he walked past. Beard nodded.

“Hey,” she smiled.

Jamie shot her an apologetic look as he trailed after them, wishing nothing more than to stay in the hall, just the two of them. Y/n smiled at him once more, sending him off with something he could hold to the rest of the day.

A 10-game streak, a stacked international break…somewhere months ago, Y/n would have been waiting for the other shoe to drop. A plane to fall out of the sky. Some natural disaster to hit.

No, all was well. And it felt damn good.

—————————

It all came crashing down a few days later.

Keeley and Y/n had met for a morning coffee before work. Keeley was back to her normal self, post-leak and post-Jack. Y/n was glad for it, the universe felt unbalanced if Keeley wasn’t her usual sunshiny self.

At the KJPR office, they waited for the elevator. Once it arrived, a casually dressed man pushed a dolly of boxes past them.

“Didn’t know anyone was moving out,” Y/n commented as they got in the car.

“Me neither,” Keeley replied.

The doors opened on their floor and they exited, coming around the corner only to nearly get clipped by two movers with a couch.

“Shit!” Keeley exclaimed, grabbing Y/n’s arm as they jumped out of the way.

Y/n eyed the rest of the room. All the desks were covered in boxes and most of their furniture had disappeared.

“Keeley…” she said lowly.

Dan, a man Y/n had only met properly once or twice, walked up to them. He was carrying a box of desk supplies in both hands.

“Keeley,” he addressed, “You are the nicest boss I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you, Dan,” Keeley replied, brows knitted in confusion.

“And definitely the hottest,” he finished.

“That’s a complicated compliment.”

Dan left with a thanks, moving past the two women.

“What…” Y/n trailed off.

Keeley led them to Barbara’s office, who was also packing up her desk.

“Barbara, what’s going on?” Keeley asked, “Are we being slowly robbed?”

“Oh,” Barbara ceased her packing, “Wait, I’m sorry. You haven’t spoken with Jack?”

“I haven’t heard from Jack in weeks.”

Barbara stammered, “But she emailed me last night to say that she was gonna reach out and tell you.”

Y/n’s stomach clenched with familiar dread.

“Tell me what, Barbara?” Keeley asked.

Barbara, for all the grief she’d given Keeley, didn’t appear to take any pleasure in delivering the news. She had to steady herself even. “The board of the VC have decided to pull funding. They’re shutting down KJPR.”

Y/n’s breath left her chest.

“What?” Keeley whispered, “When?”

“Oh, well, don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of time,” Barbara reassured, “We don’t have to be out till Friday.”

Keeley was barely audible, “It’s Wednesday.”

Barbara faltered, “Yeah, I suppose that is…quite soon, isn’t it? Especially if you didn’t get an email last night.”

When there was nothing else to say, Barbara awkwardly went back to packing her things, leaving Keeley and Y/n dumbstruck.

Somehow, Y/n made her feet move out of the office and into the main space. Her head was spinning. It had taken less than a minute to crack her world open and split it in two.

“I need a minute,” Keeley mumbled.

Too stunned to reply, Y/n wandered off into the conference room. The table and chairs were still there, she sunk into one of them.

As one of the employees, Y/n should have gotten an email like anyone else. The only factor that could have changed that was Keeley. Jack knew they worked closely together, they could be considered friends. If this was revenge on Keeley for their break-up, Jack wouldn’t hesitate to take it out on those closest to her ex. And just like that…Y/n became collateral damage.

She rested her elbows on the table, running her hands over her face. The first job she’d ever loved, and it was gone. Every part of working for AFC Richmond that she adored, had just been taken from her. No more training, no more time with the fans, no more overseeing pressers and interviews, no more coming down the hall and seeing the boys…

The tears came quick.

A few moments later, Keeley knocked on the door and entered at Y/n’s mumbled ‘yeah.’ Both women had wet eyes and snot under their noses.

“I’m so sorry,” Keeley managed over the lump in her throat.

Y/n sniffled, her hands covering most of her face. If she was being honest, there was a small part of her that resented Keeley. Never get involved with someone from work, that was corporate 101.

“Me too,” she replied. Regardless of her bad judgement, Keeley hadn’t deserved to lose the company. She wasn’t the one at fault.

Keeley took the chair next to Y/n’s, feeling like a stray tree in the wind. Swaying, ready to break at the slightest gust.

The very thought of what had to be said sent a stabbing pain through Y/n’s gut.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll pack up my things this weekend. At Richmond.”

Keeley didn’t think she could handle any more, but knowing that Y/n was losing the place that made her happiest just worsened the blow.

“Thank you,” Y/n whispered, “For…coming up to me in that bar.”

It was that sentiment that sent Keeley back over the edge, the gentle sobs returning. On cue, Y/n’s followed and the two of them twisted to grip each other’s hands, sitting knee to knee. They mourned all they had built, together and apart.

—————————

Eight months after her last sacking, Y/n was in the exact same position: sat at a bar, drinking a glass of red wine.

This time, the bar was her flat. Being anywhere around people sounded horrifying. She was content to wallow in the apartment she already feared she’d have to give up.

Unlike the other times she’d been let go, Y/n couldn’t bear to think about the next steps. The minute she’d told Keeley she’d get her things from Nelson Road, she’d banished the thought. She couldn’t bear the thought, the pain of telling the boys, Rebecca, Ted…of leaving the parking lot for the last time. Every time her mind began to try and think practically, she took another sip of the merlot.

The depressing silence was broken up by a ring of her doorbell. Y/n let her head drop as she dragged herself off the barstool. She couldn’t come up with the name of a single person she wanted to see at the moment.

Trudging down the last of the stairs, she looked through the peephole, seeing a familiar mop of mussed up hair and sharp cheekbones.

Y/n quickly wiped under her eyes, praying her waterproof mascara had done its job. If she wasn’t ready to tell anyone the news, Jamie was in a category of his own. The thought of not seeing him every day was crippling.

She opened the door, Jamie flashing a smile as soon as he laid eyes on her.

“Hey,” Y/n grinned thickly, “I thought you were supposed to be up in Stafford.”

“Yeah, just got back,” Jamie glanced back to the street where his car was parked.

“How was it?”

“Fucking,” Jamie shut his eyes, still beaming, “Mental.”

Y/n genuinely chuckled. At least one of them was doing well. “That’s great.”

“Yeah,” Jamie finally got a good look at Y/n. Her face was drawn, despite her smile. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and her gaze was distant, despite being zeroed in on him. “You alright?”

Y/n thinned her lips in an exaggerated frown and shrugged, “Yeah, fine.”

Jamie wasn’t convinced, “You sure?”

Clearly months out of practice from hiding her feelings had left her skills dulled. Y/n sighed, leaning up against the doorframe, “It’s just been a long fucking day.”

“What happened?” Jamie’s brows knitted in worry.

“Nothing specific,” Y/n lied straight through her teeth, “Just tired.”

Jamie nodded, slightly assured that he could move onto the reason for his visit.

“Well, hey, I think I can cheer you up,” he took a breath as if preparing for something big. “Come with me to the match.”

Y/n tilted her head, “What?”

“The Wembley match. They’re puttin’ us up in a hotel tomorrow night, and the game’s on Friday,” Jamie explained, hope glistening in his eyes, “Come with me.”

If they were discussing some random away game, Y/n wouldn’t have thought anything of it. But this…this was England. This was something Jamie had dreamed of since he was a child. This meant everything to him, and he wanted her to share it with him. Y/n didn’t take a word of it lightly.

“I can get ya an extra room,” Jamie took her stunned silence as doubt, “I’ll tell ‘em I need my publicist with me.”

“I don’t think being the club’s publicist gets me that kind of privilege,” Y/n tried to ignore the ache in her chest. That title didn’t belong to her anymore.

“Does if you’re with me,” Jamie smirked.

Y/n chortled, “Right. I’m rolling with the big dogs. Forgot.”

“Look,” Jamie took a step closer, his hands resting in the space between them, nearly reaching out to her. “I really want you there. Really.”

There was a softness to Jamie’s stare that he always saved for Y/n, and a determination he wore any time he stepped on the pitch. If she didn’t want to come, he wouldn’t force her, but he wasn’t going down without fighting his hardest.

Y/n really had no reason to say no. She wouldn’t be at work, she had no commitments…and honestly, getting away sounded nice. To step outside of Richmond for a little while and get some distance before she had to deal with the reality of her situation. And more than anything, she wanted to cheer on Jamie.

“Okay.”

Jamie’s brows shot up, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/n smiled, her first true one of their conversation.

“Great,” Jamie grinned and fiddled with his hands, “Okay, uh, I’ll pick you up tomorrow, 12-ish. Drive over together.”

“I mean, I can drive myself,” Y/n replied, “You don’t need to be picking me up with everything you’ll have going on.”

Jamie shrugged, “I know.” There was no discussion to be had.

“Okay,” Y/n conceded, “I’ll be ready.”

“Okay,” Jamie smiled, awkwardly holding the silence. He didn’t want to let the conversation end, but there was nothing left to say. “Well, uh, I’ll let you get back to your night.”

“Go,” Y/n gestured to the street, “Rest. You’re only representing the whole country.”

He laughed, walking backwards to steal one last glance at Y/n. If someone would have told Jamie that eight months before, his ex-girlfriend’s new hire would end up meaning enough to him to share his England debut with, he wasn’t sure what he’d have thought. But he wouldn’t have believed it. “See ya.”

Y/n gave a small wave, matching his warm smile until the distance forced them to break. She was still neck deep in shit, but for a moment, the sun felt like it was shining.

—————————

Y/n supposed as she packed her overnight bag, that if she forgot anything important, she could just Uber back to her flat. For whatever reason, she was afraid she was leaving something off the list.

The initial excitement she’d felt when Jamie had invited her had long since died. It seemed the depression that set in after losing your job took twenty four hours of fermenting to truly come to life.

She was nearly done packing when she was sorting through a drawer of t-shirts, spotting a brightly colored blue and red one she had tucked at the bottom. She pulled it out and unfolded it.

The jersey Jamie had gifted her for Christmas.

A small smile pulled at her face, remembering the night he’d given it to her. True to her word, she hadn’t worn it to any matches. She couldn’t possibly give him that satisfaction.

Through the insanity that was working at AFC Richmond, there had been many constants. Ted’s awful jokes, Roy’s sour mood, weekly tea with Rebecca…but Jamie had l become the most unexpectedly steady thing in Y/n’s life. A safe place to land in any situation. If it wasn’t for Jamie, she wasn’t sure how she would have made it thus far.

She smiled.

Without a second thought, Y/n folded the jersey back up and tucked it in her suitcase. Jamie was the focus, and she’d amplify his joy however she could.

Her phone pinged with a text alert, the man himself messaging her that he was parked outside. Y/n zipped up her bag, grabbed her purse, and headed downstairs.

Jamie was propped against his car, spinning the keys in his fingers. He supposed he should have felt nervous, twenty four hours away from his England debut, but he felt at peace. He wasn’t entirely sure why until he spotted Y/n’s figure coming down her street.

“Jamie Tartt, do do do do do do,” she sang once she got close enough, “Jamie Tartt, do do do do do do…”

“Lovely,” Jamie chuckled before reaching out for her bag, “Let’s have it.”

“There’d better be room for it,” Y/n handed the suitcase over.

Jamie popped the boot, “How much you think I travel with?”

“I mean, hair products alone has to equate to two carry ons,” Y/n replied, “Jewelry, trainers, socks, that’s another two…the ego’s gotta take up, what, four?”

Jamie shut the boot, leaning on it as he listened. “I’m happy to leave you here. Watch the match on Sky Sports.”

“Sorry, too late,” Y/n smirked as she rounded the car, Jamie met her on the passenger side. The two of them stood with mere inches between them. “You’re stuck with me, Tartt.”

Their smug smiles melted into something far more warm, the emotional weight of the trip was too overwhelming to be ignored too long.

“Not a bad deal,” Jamie said softly.

“You’re playing for England,” Y/n whispered.

Jamie’s grin spread up his cheeks, reaching to tug Y/n into an embrace. Gentler than the one they’d shared after the news had broke, but matching in enthusiasm.

“Right, gotta get going,” Jamie broke away and went to the driver’s side, “Check-in’s in an hour.”

The traffic they hit made it so they’d arrive just at their appointed time. On the way, Y/n avoided any topic that could tie them back to work, and Jamie recounted a party he’d attended two days before.

“Wait…” Y/n laughed, “You’re telling me that Roy Kent - Roy Kent - has to wear a tie-dye shirt?”

“Swear down,” Jamie replied.

“Roy Kent,” Y/n repeated. The image was too insane to imagine. “Growling-in-the-halls, leather-jacket-wearing, black-coffee, black-clothes, black-everything Roy Kent.”

Jamie nodded.

Y/n fell back against the seat, “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not playin’ ya,” Jamie laughed, one hand resting comfortably on the steering wheel, “Saw it with me own eyes.”

“And I can’t believe it till I see it with mine,” Y/n shook her head. “So, wait, you left training because Phoebe called you and invited you to a party for a pretend holiday for the man who makes your life a living hell?”

Jamie wasn’t sure how to explain it. How his relationship with Roy had gone from childhood idolization to rivalry to tolerance to mentor/mentee to…something almost, nearly, bordering…friendship? But when he’d gotten the call from Phoebe and her mum, Roy’s niece inviting him to Uncle’s Day, he hadn’t needed to give it a second thought. He’d even taken the time to track down a gift meaningful enough to crack Roy’s stony exterior.

“Dunno,” he shrugged casually, “Didn’t want to disappoint her.”

“Mmm,” Y/n nodded, pretending to buy it, “Nothing to do with the fact that you two are actually…friends?”

Jamie looked out the window, checking the space around them, “Right, you can walk from here.”

Y/n snorted, crossing her arms across her chest. Beyond the teasing, she found it incredibly sweet that Jamie would drop what he was doing not just for Roy, but for Phoebe. It echoed the same kindness he’d shown to Henry when he’d visited. She supposed it came from Jamie’s childhood, the same drive she had to make sure any kid she came across was happier than she’d been at their age.

“It’s cute.”

Jamie quirked a brow as he switched lanes, “What?”

Y/n shrugged, “Jamie Tartt’s got a soft spot for kids.”

The tingling in his chest confused Jamie. But knowing Y/n thought him admirable was…nice.

He played it off, of course, “Haven’t even told you about the play.”

Y/n slapped her hands together, “Oh, please God tell me it was interactive.”

“It was fucking Shakespearean,” Jamie laughed, before launching into the multi-hour long production Phoebe and Roy’s sister had staged.

Once they arrived at the hotel, they checked-in separately. It was an easy way for Y/n to keep herself out of any photo sightings of Jamie and she was extra happy she’d thought it out when some of his teammates arrived. She headed to the elevator while Jamie greeted them, loading into the car. Once he saw she was already off, Jamie rushed through goodbyes to catch the lift with her.

“Right,” Y/n said as they landed on the 10th floor, looking between her key and the door numbers, “I’m 502.”

“507,” Jamie replied, “End of the hall, I think.”

They found Y/n’s room first and paused outside the door.

“Right, so dinner tonight?” Jamie suggested, “I mean, it’ll mostly be me watchin’ you eat, but…”

“Jamie, no,” Y/n screwed her face, “We can have dinner literally any other night. Go be with the team.”

He knew that was what he was expected to do, and part of him wanted to go bond with the boys but…she was here. And as much as he wanted to hang with his teammates, everyone drifted to second priority when Y/n was around.

“You sure?” Jamie asked.

“Yes,” Y/n insisted, reaching out and taking his arm, “Go enjoy this. You earned it. I’m just gonna get room service and get to bed boringly early.”

Jamie chuckled, looking down at the ground. His skin jumped to life under her touch. “Alright,” he smiled up at her, “I got a ticket reserved for you at will call.”

“Okay,” she nodded.

“And…” Jamie searched for something, anything else to say, coming up short, “Yeah. Think that’s it.”

“Hey,” Y/n squeezed his arm, beaming with pride, “You’re gonna kill it.”

Jamie’s smile grew in the way only she could harvest out of him. Something about her belief in him made him feel like he could play the whole fucking match himself.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow,” he said, though he didn’t move.

“See you tomorrow,” Y/n echoed, rubbing his shoulder before breaking apart and unlocking her door. Jamie took it as his cue to drag his own suitcase down the hall, five doors down.

Y/n did a lap around her room, taking stock of where everything was. It was a nice fucking hotel, though she shouldn’t have expected anything else. She set her suitcase in the corner, there was no need to go to the trouble of unpacking for a two night stay.

She dropped onto the edge of the bed. With Jamie off and the room mapped out, there was nothing to do but sit with her thoughts.

Y/n sighed, her chest returned to feeling hollow, knowing this life was about to disappear. No more traveling with the Greyhounds, the endless chatter on long bus rides, her room being sandwiched between two of they boy’s and dealing with their late night shenanigans that typically resulted in a large check being written to the hotel…

She grabbed the bedside phone, dialing the corresponding number on the paper below it. She couldn’t deal with being sad sober or on an empty stomach. “Yes, room service? Can I have a bottle of wine and the chef’s special delivered to room 502? Thank you.”

It was going to be a long night.

——————

The next morning, Y/n took advantage of getting to sleep in on Friday. The game wasn’t until noon, she set her alarm for ten. She ordered breakfast to the room and ate in bed. Sadness went well with pancakes, she found.

Eventually, she got dressed for the match. She smiled to herself as she slipped the ‘#9’ jersey over her tank top. It would be the first, and most likely only opportunity she’d have to wear it.

Wembley was close enough to the hotel that she didn’t bother ordering an Uber, choosing instead to join the crowds and walk. She’d forgotten just how massive the stadium was when she arrived at the ticket booth.

“Hi,” she greeted the guy working will call, “There should be a ticket under the name ‘Y/l/n.’”

The man fished through a few envelopes before reaching into one and slipping a ticket under the glass window. “Enjoy the match, love.”

“Thank you,” she smiled.

It had been years since Y/n had been to Wembley, the last time for a concert fresh off of graduation. She couldn’t remember the section numbers and locations to save her life.

Once she got inside, she found a security guard. “Excuse me? Could you point me towards section…” she read her ticket once more, “120?”

The guard glanced at her ticket before pointing her towards a massive staircase. “All the way down, midfield.”

“Okay,” Y/n headed off, calling back to him, “Thank you.”

She melted into the crowd and followed them down the stairs. She kept looking between her ticket and the descending rows of seats, realizing when she hit the ground that Jamie hadn’t just gotten her a seat…he’d gotten her one in the front row.

Y/n made her way down, past families and groups of friends, finding her seat was on the aisle. It allowed her a perfect view of the field, Jamie would most certainly be able to spot her.

The atmosphere before the match was a welcome cheeriness, Y/n couldn’t help but get caught up in the excitement of it. It was hard to be depressed with 90,000 people around you cheering and singing.

The teams marched out onto the pitch, their respective fans standing and screaming. Y/n was on her feet as soon as England was out, spotting Jamie towards the back. He was on the reserve squad and came out near last. She hoped he would get at least a few minutes on the field.

Jamie was caught up in the moment enough that he didn’t search for Y/n. Knowing she was there was enough.

By the second half of the match, England was up by a point, but Jamie still had yet to get on the pitch. Y/n was fidgeting more with each minute that passed, hoping that this would be the point that #9 would tire out enough and Jamie could sub in.

Finally, it happened. Jamie came off the bench as one of the refs held up the board, announcing Jamie’s arrival and his number. #24.

Y/n pressed a hand to her heart, her lips falling open in a loose smile. It was a hell of statement after their #24 had been passed over for the Nigerian league. But more importantly, it was an incredibly touching gesture. Sam had to have been beaming shyly, wherever he was watching from.

Jamie got onto the pitch and first ended up assisting in one goal. When the clock came down to the last five minutes, he shot across the field, catching the ball from one of his teammates and running it down the pitch.

“Come on, Jamie,” Y/n muttered under her breath, her eyes glued to him. He could make it.

Faking left and spinning around to the right, Jamie power kicked the ball toward the net, evading the goalie and landing a perfect shot.

Y/n shot out of her seat with the rest of the crowd, screaming as loud as she could.

Jamie looked pleased, his nearest teammates slapping him across the back in congratulations. He turned to the crowd and grinned, soaking in the moment he’d been waiting for since he was a kid. The whole stadium was cheering for him.

His eyes floated to section 120, finding the furthest seat and the woman occupying it. Their eyes met and Jamie caught the unmistakable Greyhound blue underneath her coat, his chest suddenly swelling with something deeper than pride. She’d worn the fucking shirt.

Y/n grinned at him, raising her fists above her head. Jamie patted his chest, just above his heart, smiling right back at her.

England ended up winning, of course, and Y/n felt like she was floating. She couldn’t get up the stairs fast enough, hurrying through the concourses till she found two doors with ample security stood outside.

“Hi,” she said, nearly out of breath, “I work at AFC Richmond. I need to see Jamie Tartt,” Y/n pulled out her phone as she saw the guard inhaling to turn her away, “I have proof of employment.”

She pulled up an email exchange with Higgins and held up her employee ID, matching the signature to the card. The guard nodded, “Come with me.”

Y/n followed down the hall, stopping outside the locker room as the guard instructed her to wait. The commotion inside could be heard all down the hall, chants and cheers from the boys echoing off the walls.

A few seconds later, Jamie emerged, soaked in champagne and sweat.

Neither of them hesitated to launch into one another’s arms, Jamie full on lifting and spinning her around. They were a mess of laughs and squeals and smiles.

“You did it,” Y/n grinned, her arms tight around Jamie’s neck.

“We fucking did it,” he growled happily, still twirling her in the air.

“Jamie,” Y/n laughed as he finally dropped her. She held his face in her hands, “You were incredible. You were fucking amazing.”

Jamie beamed, finally feeling whole. He’d been waiting all day to hug her.

“My gosh,” Y/n smiled, on the verge of tears.

“Not a bad seat either, yeah?” Jamie smiled.

“You just fucking played for England and that’s what you wanna talk about?” Y/n exclaimed as she lightly shoved his chest.

Jamie’s hands fiddled agaisnt Y/n’s waist, the adrenaline from the game still pulsing through. He rubbed the extra material of the shirt, his shirt, between his fingers.

He cocked a brow, “Thought you said you’d never wear this.”

Y/n shrugged playfully, “I had a compelling reason.”

There was enough electricity running through them both without the added crackling of their hands, the pure lightning that was striking between their eyes. It was a moment so full of emotion, if it lasted much longer, it stood the chance to naturally lead to something…

“Oi! Tartt!”

Jamie and Y/n dropped their hands, the outside presence causing embarrassment they didn’t know they felt. Jamie nodded back at one of his teammates, “Yeah?”

“Get the fuck back in here,” he gestured back to the room. The celebration hadn’t stopped in Jamie’s absence.

“Yeah, be in a minute,” Jamie distractedly smiled before turning back to Y/n, “Right-“

“Jamie,” Y/n shook her head, smiling knowingly, “Go. Go celebrate your moment.

He hesitated, truthfully, he didn’t want her to be so encouraging. “Yeah, but we gotta celebrate too,” Jamie reached out for her hands.

“And we will,” Y/n replied, squeezing his palms, “But now, you’re gonna go in there, you’re going to get absolutely shit-faced and create a million horrible headlines for me to issue a million and one apologies for.”

Jamie snorted and stared down at their intwined hands. Half of him was itching to get back in the locker room, the other stayed right where he was.

“Go,” Y/n repeated.

Jamie tugged her back to his chest, the two of them fitting together as perfectly as ever. He was so unbelievably glad she’d said yes to coming. Looking out into the stands, seeing her cheering for him had boosted his spirits in a way nothing else could.

Even as he broke away, he left backwards. “I mean it,” Jamie pointed at her, “We’re fucking celebrating.”

Y/n just laughed and shoved the air, staying till he disappeared back into the locker room. Jamie’s ecstasy was feeding her, the victory lifting them both up sky high. She was so glad she hadn’t turned him down.

The security guard escorted her out to the concourse and she found her way back to the hotel. Each street was echoing with chants and cheers for England, the whole of London was buzzing. It was beautiful.

Y/n got back to her room, turning on the TV to Sky Sports and watching the recap. Jamie, of course, made the conversation, both his goal and his kit number were heavily discussed.

Y/n smiled when Sam’s name came up, pulling her phone out and sending an array of appropriate emojis to the young Nigerian along with his number. He fired back a few red hearts in reply.

Roughly an hour had passed when there was a knock at the door. Y/n slid out of bed confused. She hadn’t ordered dinner yet.

She opened the door to find Jamie, hair combed, showered and out of his kit, leaning against her door frame.

“I thought I told you to go spend time with the team,” Y/n chuckled in surprise.

“I did,” he shrugged, “Now it’s our turn.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t kill the growing grin. She wanted the day to be everything Jamie wanted, but she couldn’t deny the ever-present desire to stay in his field of gravity. If he was here willingly, she wasn’t going to fight him.

She matched his posture and leaned against the frame, “What’d you have in mind?”

“Dinner, club,” Jamie listed off the options, “Go to the top of the Shard, scream as loud as we can.”

Y/n laughed, “I can do that.”

“Good,” Jamie smiled, looking down at his watch, “You got twenty minutes.”

“Clearly you learned nothing dating Keeley,” Y/n scoffed, “Put thirty on the clock.”

“Fine,” Jamie relented, “I’ll be back in thirty minutes exactly. That’s it. Not waitin’.” He couldn’t even pretend to be that strict, a smile contradicting his words.

Y/n gave a two fingered salute, “I’ll be ready.”

She shut the door, hearing him shuffling down the hall. In her suitcase, she’d packed a dress, knowing the chances of Jamie and her going out after was a distinct possibility. She also thought she was crazy to assume that at all. Yet still, she’d gone to the trouble of picking one out, laboring over the choice far longer than it should have taken.

Within thirty minutes, Y/n managed to shower, do her hair and light makeup, slipping into the dress and her sneakers at the twenty-nine minute mark. She gave herself a once over in the mirror, giving herself a pat on the back for exceptional work in such a short time frame.

On cue, there were three knocks at the door.

Y/n grabbed her purse and unlocked the door, Jamie once again stood in waiting.

He wasn’t quite sure what he’d expected when he’d told Y/n they were going out for a night on the town, but whatever it was…wasn’t what he got. Y/n was stunning, gorgeous, in a strappy pink dress, her hair tied up. It was all in stark contrast to how she usually dressed around Nelson Road, all business attire or jeans on a casual day. This was…this was something.

“Wow,” Jamie managed, his eyes running up and down her form.

Y/n took an honest look at Jamie for the first time of the night. His usual floppy hairstyle and headband had been swapped for a blow dry and a neat side swoop. A deep blue dress shirt was unbuttoned a bit further than other men’s and a dark textured blazer layered it, finished with dress pants, actual shoes and a gold chain. He looked good.

“No trainers,” Y/n was lost for anything else to say, “It really is a special occasion.”

Jamie chuckled, still unable to tear his eyes off of her. It was going to get awkward if he didn’t stop soon.

He offered his arm, “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Y/n slipped her arm through Jamie’s and they strolled down the hall.

Once they’d slipped out the lobby, they hailed a cab and Jamie gave the driver an address. They arrived at a five star rooftop restaurant and bar and made their way to a table, the thumping music and chatter of the weekend crowd enveloping them. A fair amount of the other patrons were celebrating England’s victory heartily.

“Look at this,” Y/n smiled, a group of people excitedly describing the game as they passed their table, “You did this.”

“Wasn’t just me,” Jamie replied.

“Yeah, but you were part of it,” Y/n corrected, shaking her head, “Jeez, Jamie…you scored a fucking goal.”

“I did, yeah,” Jamie grinned and admitted, walking the line between humility and cockiness as only he could.

Y/n waited a moment, admiring the joy in Jamie’s eyes as his eyes followed the fans. It was childlike, pure and wild.

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna wear #24,” she eventually said.

Jamie nodded, “Just felt right. It’s mad they didn’t pick him.”

“It is,” Y/n agreed, looking out at the darkening London sky, wondering how Sam was actually holding up. “But that was brave, wearing it. Like you were giving whoever didn’t choose him the middle finger.”

He chortled, his eyes lingering on her longer and longer each time they found her. Jamie was losing the battle to look away.

Y/n was the first to drop her gaze. Like always, there were ghosts dining with them. She’d been itching with concern for Jamie all day, but hadn’t said anything.

“So…how was it being back? At Wembley?”

Jamie caught the meaning instantly, it wasn’t exactly far from his mind. As much fun as he’d had, being back in the locker room had inevitably triggered unpleasant memories.

“Bit weird,” Jamie admitted, “But…I don’t know. I think I was too distracted to think about it too much.”

“That’s good,” Y/n gently smiled, “Of course, now I’ve brought it up and…”

Jamie reached out and took her hand reassuringly, “And nothing.”

Y/n’s lips tugged upwards slightly, squeezing Jamie’s palm.

A horribly timed interruption caused them both to have to tear his gaze away, the waiter returning with their drinks. He took them both and handed Y/n hers.

“Alright,” she scooted forward in her seat, “What’re we drinking to?”

Jamie sighed, thinking a moment, “Well, to me, obviously,” he got a laugh out of Y/n, “To the team. To England. To Richmond,” he swallowed, “To you.”

Y/n raised a brow, “To me?”

“Yeah,” Jamie smiled coyly, “You comin’ here, cheering me on. Knowing you were there…”

The humor of the moment was gone entirely, replaced by sweet sentiment. Jamie and Y/n’s friendship had come to mean more to them than they could have guessed that first night in Sam’s restaurant. Or the time they’d run into each other at the Crown and Anchor, spending an hour pouring over apartments for Y/n. They had become each other’s north star. They were a part of one another, reflecting the best of each other back.

“To having a good night,” Jamie continued, unable to finish his last thought, “And not worrying about anything. Not thinking about anything. Just celebrating.”

Not all of the time they spent together was so serious, but one of the basis of Y/n and Jamie’s bond was their mutual pain. So many of their conversations somehow traced back to her parents, his dad, how they were the way they were because of their failures. Not to mention, Y/n had the news of KJPR’s shutdown weighing on her back. She’d have to break the news to Jamie come morning.

But tonight, tonight was a night for none of it. They would drink, they would laugh, and they would revel in Jamie’s accomplishment.

Y/n clinked her glass against Jamie’s. “To not thinking.”

And that’s exactly what they did. They didn’t think as they ordered a second round of drinks.

Or a third.

They didn’t think as they went to a club, pulling one another close to dance.

They didn’t think as they giggled their way back to their hotel.

And they certainly didn’t think as they stumbled into Y/n’s room, a collision of roaming hands and eager lips.

—————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

[lildashofheaven1]

Dating Him Head canons

Joseph Quinn x y/n

- The most level headed person you will meet… until someone screws you over, he’s pissed and lets that be known if that happens!

- Treats you SO WELL!! His momma raised him so right!

- Will do anything to make you happy, your hungry at 2am? Well get your hoodie on and he’ll get his car keys bc he’s driving you both to McDonalds

- You becoming BEST FRIENDS with jamie due to how often they meet up

- Joseph always having his hands on you, in interviews? His hands around your waist. Walking down the street? He’s holding your hand the whole way. Also definitely follows the sidewalk rule and will never let you walk on the roadside

- You meeting his family and them LOVING YOU!

- When you move into your own place he 100% follows the rule of ‘happy wife,happy life’

- Omfg y’all’s favourite holiday is Christmas for sure! He loves having his family around and the fact you enjoy spending time with them too!!

- Also Joseph loves summer time!! Having a BBQ in the back garden, couple drinks, and omg if Jamie comes round he definitely takes the piss out of joseph saying things as such ‘ we need to get you a kiss the cook apron mate’ to which joseph raises his middle finger at him and laughs

- Also joseph is always nominated head chef on BBQ days and you either lounge in the pool or sit and natter to him

- Being such a power couple to where fans cant eve be jealous they love you both so much

- BIG SPOON!! BIG SPOON!! And if you ever wanna be big spoon he gets jokingly offended

- Him calling you ‘babe,sweetheart,Darling, love’

- You never feeling alone with him

- He always makes a point to stop conversations if someone interrupts you when talking so you feel seen and heard

- You both always go to local theatres to watch plays and support the arts

- People always clipping the way he looks at you in interviews, a look of pure love and admiration

- Always bring you up in interviews if you aren’t there

- If you met on set of stranger things he always thanks eddie munson for getting you

- No matter what you do as a career he supports you 10000%

- When you have been together for around 2-3 years you discuss the idea of having kids, he obviously does bc he’s SO GOOD with kids whereas your a little more reserved

- However at a specific comic con where joseph interacted with a child it made your heart melt and you knew in that moment that if you both have a kid he’ll be with you for the long run

[smashing-teacups]

Atonement Chapter 45: The Battles We Choose

A/N: I have no idea why this didn't upload when I added it at 4 PM today, womp womp. But let's try this again, my tumblr folk! One last chapter to hold you over until the rest of the story is complete! 😘

A thousand pounds of horseflesh thundered beneath him, urged to a gallop as the weather began to turn. Eyes darting uneasily to the horizon, Jamie watched the clouds roll in from the west and counted his odds that he could get Donas back to the stable before man and beast alike were soaked through.

He could only thank his lucky stars that Claire wasn’t with them this time.

He’d left her safe and dry back at the mill, contentedly toggling between spreadsheets on her mobile. Her mission for the next hour was to finish compiling a list of essentials they’d need to purchase in a brick-and-mortar store that evening, then shop online for whatever items could wait a few days for delivery. Jamie’s was to return the horse, get the car, check out of their hotel, and bring their suitcases back home. 

A series of tasks that would be significantly less pleasant if he was soaked to the skin and freezing, forbye.

As fate would have it, though — or, rather, an impressively fast horse — he’d just managed to rein Donas to a halt outside the barn door as the first scattered, heavy raindrops began to plop into the dirt. Beaming and breathless, he gave the stallion a sound pat on the neck as he dismounted, murmuring praise in the Gàidhlig.

Several feet behind him, the kitchen door burst open on squeaking hinges. He didn’t need to look to know who had followed him out into the stableyard.

“I’m just returning the horse,” he called gruffly, eyes fixed straight ahead as he led Donas into the barn. “Ye dinna need to make a scene of it.”

“What happened?” his sister demanded, clipped wee footfalls trailing after him as though he hadn’t spoken at all. Like arguin’ wi’ a brick wall, Da used to say. Though I’m no’ sure that’s entirely fair to the wall.

Keep reading...

[its-time-to-write]

perhaps some angst?? reader and jamie break up but fluff at the end because he wins her back 🥹

I’m sorry this took me so long 😭 Not always the best at writing angst. Thanks for requesting!

can’t really say i’m enjoying it now

“What the fuck, Jamie,” you say. “What the actual fuck.”

You’re in Richmond’s boot room after training. You’d been upstairs with Rebecca which is a bit of why you’re even in this mess. 

After all, she’s the one who told you he’d changed.

She’s the one who told him to just go for it.

She’s the one who showed you the interview clip.

You might be on the offensive, but Jamie’s on the defensive.

“I don’t get why you’re so fuckin upset, babe,” he shrugs, attempting nonchalance. His eyes, however, are just as fiery as yours. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Not that big-not that big a deal? Then what is a big deal, Jamie? And don’t ‘babe’ me, you are in absolutely no place to pull that shit after that shit you pulled.”

In another circumstance, that turn of phrase would have made Jamie laugh. Would have made him comment on your command of the English language.

Would have made him kiss you.

Now however, he just throws his hands in the air and says, “It was just an interview. Those are things you say in an interview. ‘Case you forgot, I’m a fucking famous footballer.”

“How can I forget?” you shoot back, arms crossed, “it’s all you ever fucking talk about.”

“At least I’m not a self-absorbed grad student who thinks she’s all that because she ‘makes her own money,’ and ‘has a real job.’” Here Jamie mocks your voice, high pitched and whiny.

All you can see is red. “Damnit Jamie, that is a far cry from telling the entire world about how grateful I am that you decided to date me, and then bragging about how fucking out-of-my-league you are. I’m not some goddamn charity case! And then you had the audacity to make jokes about our private life on live television. Live television, Jamie. Do you know how many people saw that? And are going to see that? It’s not just a joke about yourself anymore. It involves me too.” 

Jamie looks at you, eyes narrowed. He knows he should back down, but he won’t. It’s not in his nature to surrender a fight. “It’s not like anyone’s going to fuckin care, anyway. You’re not even famous, so who gives a shit?”

That catches you off guard. You weren’t famous, that was true, but there were a few more results in a google search of your name these days. Because of Jamie. Some were kind, some were not. 

You knew you had been prickly about it, because you wanted people to know you for you, not as some footballer’s girlfriend. You wanted to be known for your graduate research, for helping people, for something that mattered. 

You had been lashing out as a result, flexing your presumed intelligence in a less-than-graceful manner.

You had seen Jamie bottle up every retort, but now it was all coming out.

He was wrong, but so were you. You know you should back down, but you won’t. It’s not in your nature.

You whisper, “I give a shit, Jamie Tartt. I do. It’s my name but it doesn’t even belong to me anymore. It’s always tied to yours and I can’t get it back.”

You glare at each other in silent anger. The air feels so thick that you could reach out and put a piece in your pocket. There are hot, angry tears in your eyes, and Jamie’s face is red, eyebrows knit together. Your arms are in fists at your sides, and Jamie’s are tightly crossed. Each of you sending the message, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

Finally Jamie speaks up. “You want your fucking name back?” he asks, far too calmly. “You can have it. We’re done.”

For a moment, all you can hear is roaring in your ears. Then- “Fuck you. Fine. You think I’m a self-righteous bitch? At least I know who I am, and I’m working on it instead of pretending to be something I’m not. Have a nice life, Jamie,” you reply, icy voice cooling the fire in your veins. You turn sharply on your heel and walk out of the boot room. You don’t slam the door. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

Jamie kicks a bench and lets out a single, “Fuck!”

—

That was three months ago. You booked the first flight you could find back to your parents’ house before you even told them you were coming home for a visit. They were overjoyed to have you, despite the circumstances of your return. 

You managed to keep it together right until the moment you saw your dad’s face at baggage claim, and then you felt everything fall apart. He hugged you as though it was the only thing keeping you from shattering into a million pieces, and you just sobbed.

You spend a month on their couch, slogging through schoolwork and binge-watching tv. Your mom walks with you every morning, claiming she needs someone to keep her from cutting corners. In reality, the fresh air is good for you. She lets you walk in silence, and squeezes your hand the exact moment before a tear falls from your eye.

“He’s just a young man,” she says, “They do dumb things. He’ll learn. I’m sorry he had to learn through you, but you won’t feel this way forever.” 

You tell her once this feels like taking his side. She laughs and says, “Having grace for someone is not the same as taking their side. And anyway, which one of you have I let live in my house for the past three weeks?”

Your dad is less forgiving. You hear your mom talking him out of buying a plane ticket to London. “Violence is not the answer for this,” she says.

You can’t hear your dad’s reply, but it’s something along the lines of “Just wanted to talk to him.”

Your mom laughs. Your dad is downright frightening when he wants to be, violence or no. You catch a snip of “Poor boy, his father- can’t be expected- not excusing-” before you put in some earbuds and slip off to sleep.

Your mom is on your side. She just has the unnerving tendency to understand both sides of an argument. You’re grateful that she doesn’t make any snide comments about Jamie like your sister does, because there’s a part of you that just hurts because that part still loves him, and it feels like slander on his name is slander on yours. 

You try not to note that your name is still inextricably intertwined with his.

— 

Back in Richmond, Jamie is throwing himself fully into football. He doesn’t talk or joke so much anymore, just silently goes through training. He plays better, if anything. He kicks the ball with such precision during matches that the game is won if he’s even remotely near the goal. He is vicious, unforgiving, vengeful toward himself. The team leaves him alone, except Roy and Ted.

Roy still takes him for training every morning and Ted comes over to Jamie’s house with lunch every weekend.

Jamie is still silent.

—

You spend the next two months in Richmond, trying to make new memories in the places that only remind you of Jamie. It’s almost impossible, because all you can think about is his smile, and how his sharp canines glinted in the light. How his hands would catch your waist and thumbs would draw circles on your hipbones. How he could bring you to tears of laughter in a single sentence or well-timed look.

You’re almost at a point of forgiveness when you see a tabloid. You don’t even register the picture because all you can focus on is the bolded name in the headline. It’s Jamie’s name.

You’re sure it’s about some girl he’s with, because what else would be in a tabloid? You roll your eyes and scoff. Typical. Leave it to him to bounce back. You suppose long-term relationships mean nothing to him.

After that, you stay in your flat. You only leave during times you know are impossible to bump into him. 

Things start to get better. If Jamie’s moved on, so can you. You begin going on runs again. You stop by Mae’s now and again to chat with the regulars. She slips you free chips with a wink and a pat on the hand.

You still think about Jamie. He’s on your mind and you wonder if you’re on his. You remember the tabloid and shake your head.

You’re one semester away from graduating, and your research has started to mean something. You google your name once and see your name in a singular footnote in a research paper you helped write. It’s the first result. You smile. 

—

You are so close to having your first Jamie-free day. He hasn’t been the first thing on your mind for two days. You don’t have that feeling of falling, or of guilt. It is a beautiful Thursday morning, so you get up, put on your jogging clothes, then head out the door for a run. It’s a little cloudy but you swear that’s the best weather to exercise in. Less sweaty. You are three months out from your breakup and you are beginning to feel joy again. You turn a corner, thinking about a nice coffee, when you ram straight into something warm and solid. You lose your balance, but strong arms reach out to catch you.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” you cry. “I should have looked where I was-”

Words escape you as you look up into the blue eyes of your rescuer. 

“Hi,” he breathes. “I’ve missed you.”

You’re trapped in his gaze for a minute before-

“Ow!”

You’ve stomped on Jamie’s foot. 

“What was that for?” he asks indignantly. 

“Oh I don’t know,” you reply, “maybe for being a complete asshole? It also could be for snogging whatever model you were with in that tabloid? Real stellar move, showing that much remorse. I’m glad it didn’t take long to get over me. Guess the phrase ‘long-term relationship’ means something different to footballers than it does to us little people.”

Jamie opens his mouth, shuts it, then opens it again. 

“Look, you’re right, I’m a fuckin’ arsehole, but what are you talking about? What model?”

You’re a little thrown off by his admission to being an asshole. “What do you mean, ‘what am I talking about?’ I saw your name show up in some headline and you’re only ever in there for some girl, and I get it, it’s fine that you’ve moved on, it just feels really fucking quick.”

Jamie has the audacity to chuckle. “It weren’t about some model. It was about you.”

You go cold. This can’t be happening again. Jamie Tartt, spilling his guts in some sleazy interview, painting you in the worst light.

He sees the look of absolute horror on your face so he hurries on, “Look. You were right. I shouldn’t’ve said what I did. But I did, and I can’t take it back. So I’m doing me best to make it right. It were about a tv interview where they asked about you, and I said we’d broken up. Told them I was a complete prick about everything and I let you slip through my fingers.” For the first time, you take a good look at Jamie’s face. He looks truly awful. Hair floppy (and not in a good way), bloodshot eyes, dark circles. 

He continues, “I know I shouldn’t have been a prick about being famous. It’s just, I get in me fuckin’ head about shit like this. Did the same thing with Keeley. Got scared of something real and knew I’d fuck it up eventually, so I thought I might as well get it over with. And anyway, you’re way out of my league. Figured I might as well let you go before you figured it out. I’ve been- I’ve been getting better. Less dick-like. You can ask anyone, Roy, Coach, whoever. I’m really trying, here. And I know I fucked things between us, and you don’t have to forgive me, but I’m just trying to be better for me and whoever fucking has to put up with me next.” 

You have no words. All you can do is stare at him. You hear your mom’s voice saying, “He’s just a young man. He’ll figure himself out.”

You hear Keeley saying, “he’s grown so much, really, he almost isn’t even the same person anymore.”

You hear Rebecca, as you sat in her office right before Jamie asked you out, telling you, “He’s a shockingly fast learner. Only has to be told something once, and it’s in his head forever. Give him a chance.”

You open your mouth and what comes out is: “I’m sorry too.”

Jamie looks just as shocked that you said that as you are, but you keep going. “My mom talked to me a lot about- about deciding what you can forgive. And I guess, I know I wasn’t blameless. I pushed you away on purpose, and I was aware of every single word that I said that hurt you. She also talked about ‘age-appropriate mistakes.’ She said both you and I made them, and that doesn’t mean I should take you back but that I should at least consider forgiveness. It’s easy to forget that we’re really young, you know? We both have a lot of responsibility, and I forget that it’s ok if we make mistakes. And you being you, your mistakes are more public. I- I needed to figure out if I could deal with it or not. I’m still not sure if I can. I don’t want my life to be on display.”

Jamie nods, expression intent. You take a breath and then continue. “But I guess that I need to figure out which I want more. Privacy, or you. I mean, if that’s even something you want.”

Jamie’s eyes have never left your face. He says, “Always knew I liked your mum,” and then he’s pushing a strand of hair our of your eyes, hesitantly, giving you time to pull away.  

You don’t.

You let him run his fingers through your hair.

You let him kiss you, softly.

You let him back into your life.

I missed you, he had said.

You pull back, smiling. “By the way, I missed you too.”

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Seventeen

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: Okay! Hi!:) Just have to say thank you for all the love you lot keep showing this series, it’s so mad and so very appreciated. Honestly makes me want to carry on writing. But I also wanted to add a quick warning to this update.. There is a lot going on, we finally get what we’ve been waiting for!! But there are other topics that also come into play. SO that being said please read the warnings below.

Warnings: Mentions of drug and alcohol abuse (past tense), as well as sobriety, also a previous death, bit gruesome but needed- this relates back to a conversation held between Matty and Jamie in Part Eight.

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

She never did call.

Matty waited, and then waited some more. He fidgeted the rest of the day, smoked his way through a pack of fags when they’d been down at the studio, and then nursed a single pint after having allowed the guys to bully him into one of the local pubs.

It wasn’t until much later that night that he heard anything from her at all, and it hadn’t been a call, but instead a text.

Messages now Squeaks xx I listened to it 

He’d been cooped up in his office since the second he’d gotten home, looking through a couple of older demos and other sound clips in hopes that he’d find something that would fit with the current sound of their new album. George had been on his case about it all, claiming he’d been too spaced out as of late, so Matty had huffed but ultimately followed through.

Songbooks from years before were piled up high on his desk and on the floor, pages full of chords and scribbled lyrics cluttered the rest of the space, but he continued on, using it to distract him from the torturous wait.

When his phone finally did buzz, Matty had almost decided not to answer it, figuring that it would just be a message from Jamie, or maybe his mum. He was still waiting for that ring. But fuck was he glad that he’d taken a glance. Otherwise he might’ve missed it.

Are you busy?

The next text had come through almost a minute after the first, as though she’d been debating sending it. Matty frowned down at the screen, pushing away from his desk slightly.

She’d heard it.

She’d heard the demo. 

He didn’t quite know how to feel about that, or what to take from her clipped response. It was why he had essentially asked her to call him, because at least then he would’ve been able to somewhat determine what she’d thought about it, how she might’ve felt.

His tongue slid between the row of his front teeth in thought, staring down at the messages he’d received whilst his thumbs hovered over the keyboard looking for something to say.

Can you come over?

His fucking breath got caught in his throat just reading that, his tongue suddenly too big for his mouth. Matty didn't even think before he hastily answered her, worried she might take it all back.

Give me ten minutes.

He could do ten minutes. 

Fuck it. He’d fucking speedtail it out of here and try for five if it meant that she’d just let him in again. The last week had been painful enough, no need to fucking prolong it.

So that was what he did, throwing on the first pair of trainers he’d found in the hallway and grabbing at the car keys he’d tossed down on the counter months earlier. Forgetting about the album and the work he’d planned to do, along with whatever else that had seemed so important just a second ago.

She called and he would come running.

…

It was pissing down by the time he made it to her place.

Headlights on and ignition still running, Matty went to make his escape from the driver's seat, practically vibrating with the anticipation of it all. But he did momentarily pause to yank the keys from beneath the wheel before eventually scrabbling his way out of the sidedoor, feet immediately dropping into the murky puddle sat beneath. 

He’d parked like a fucking dickhead, halfway onto the curb and his boot sticking out into the empty street, but he could care less about it as he jogged around the front of the car and up the first few steps to her door.

There was blood rushing in his ears, filling up his head and making him dizzy with it all. He raised a fist to knock, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

He’d gotten there in just under seven minutes. 

His heart was pounding like mad. 

He knocked. 

It was minutes or maybe seconds before he heard a slight scuffle on the other side. Before the hallway light turned on and peered through the painted window pane sat atop the familiar front door. 

The chain fell with a clang and Matty swallowed, watching on as the hinges creaked, revealing her face.

She stared up at him, standing in a pair of pyjamas he remembered seeing on a late night call of theirs, her hair all tied up in one of those pretty buns, soft curls escaping at the sides.

Her lips parted with her next breath, the sound of it jumped out at him and Matty couldn’t really hold back anymore. It had been six months. Six whole months. Almost to the day they’d met... Back when he’d been cocksure and arrogant. When he’d still been reeling from another stint in rehab, and from the stunt before the summer, and from Luke’s death.

Matty paused. 

He hadn’t really thought about Luke so easily. Not ever. Not since that night. Not in passing.

But she was currently staring back at him. Her eyes wide and tired. Shining in the light of the street lamps that crowded the street outside. 

Matty stepped forward, reaching for her. 

“Tell me to stop.” He muttered. 

She didn’t. 

And so his hand found the edge of her jaw, fingers nestling into a place at her hairline, skimming the tip of her ear.

“I can’t.” She answered him. Always so full of truth. 

And Matty, Matty was a selfish man. He’d been a selfish kid, too. A bratty teenager. A hellish son and an even worse boyfriend. Always so egotistical, so bold, so brazen. But even more so, selfish. 

He would take and take. And this moment was no different. He took.

Her mouth met his with an agonising fever, and there was an eager sigh that escaped in the breath shared between them that Matty couldn’t really determine if was his or hers.

She let him in so easily, let his tongue roam. She let him pull her close, let his hand find purchase on her hip and hear her moan. 

It was a whimper of a thing, a sound that was swallowed up by his mouth as he consumed her again. But it fuelled that fire within him, that heat which had been simmering so close to the surface of his skin for weeks, months now. 

“Mouse.” Matty said shakily, walking her backwards, further into the flat, where their feet shuffled over the hardwood floors. The door swung shut behind them and rattled in the silence before he was spinning and pressing her shoulders up against its cold wood. 

“Matty.” She breathed back to him, fingers catching on his neck, then his jaw, winding their way up into his hair. Tugging. 

A grunt escaped him and he pressed harder with it, teeth catching on her teeth, hands moulding into her skin. 

She tasted of something sweet, it coated the length of her tongue and melded well with the cigarette he’d lit on his way over. He wanted to taste more of it, found his nose pressing against the skin of her cheek in an attempt to do so. 

It was a second later that he felt himself rut up against her, accidentally mind, but the zip of his jeans tugged at the band of her bottoms and the movement made him realise he was hard. Had been half-way there from the moment she had texted him, but now, in her hallway, with her grinding up against him, and with those pretty little sounds she let slip, it was almost painful.

“Squeaks.” He managed to force out and she swallowed her own name right up, one arm wrapping around the length of his shoulders whilst the other tugged at the nape of his neck. 

Matty followed her demands effortlessly, a hand slipping under the hem of her shirt to feel at the warm skin hidden beneath, a calloused thumb brushing against the jut of her hip.

He explored, felt the edges of rigid flesh she kept hidden and out of sight, the freckles that lingered and dotted her torso, then wedged his knee between her legs. Hands grabbing at the backs of her thighs. 

One of her knees rode up higher on his side as he shifted even closer, letting her use him like a makeshift ladder to lift herself further up in the little space which stood between him and the door. 

He rutted again and the joint of her knee tightened by his hip, the heel of her foot digging into the back of his leg, forcing him even nearer. He grabbed at the swell of her arse, noting the way she arched into him at the touch. How her stomach tensed. 

It had just been pissing it down outside, he recalled belatedly, but her warmth in that moment seemed to dry up the remaining raindrops caught in his hair and along the shoulders of his coat. His fingertips pressed harder into her thighs at the thought, feeling the bottom of her shirt ride up higher between them upon catching on the zip of his jacket. 

She nipped at his lip, then his jaw, hands all but clawing at his neck and his back.

“Squeaks.” He tried again, brain hazy with want but needing to do this right. He had to do this right. “Squeaks.” Again he said, a plea within a shared breath between them, “Baby, please.”

She retreated all too quickly, letting him go with a sharp inhale. Lids heavy with avidity as she blinked back at him. 

Matty realised then that he’d had her pinned to the door, crowded against the wood and practically having lifted her up off of her feet. He swallowed thickly at the sight and willed his dick to calm the fuck down. But it had been way too fucking long. 

He was unhurried in the way he shifted beneath her before carefully letting her go, unwinding the leg he held at his hip before she slid slowly down his front. Feet hitting the cold wood floors with a soft thud.

He blinked and gone was that selfishness they had just shared, that immediate heat, and suddenly she was all wary, shy almost. Matty reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, before he steeled himself and finally took a step back.

“You came.” She murmured after a breath, and had his mind been in better shape he’d have been quicker with his quip.

But yet, he was left drifting in between the heady thrill and the uneventful come down they’d shared. 

He blinked slowly at her. Could see that the hallway light was the only one on, but somewhere, further down the hall, a soft glow from one of her many lamps crept its way past a door. 

“You said you’d call.” He found himself saying in reply, though it wasn’t the reprimand he’d thought it was. 

Her smile was soft then. Fond. 

His breath caught at the sight of her, still laboured from the minute before.

“After.” Squeaks whispered in recall. And Matty heard himself repeat it, “After, you said.”

She took a small step closer to him, the padding of her feet echoed in the narrow walkway. Matty’s hands twitched at his sides.

He saw her throat bob. 

“Tea?” She questioned, and Matty was both thankful and resentful for the quiet offer. 

He nodded, blinking owlishly at her. 

They stood there, not moving, for a long moment. The sound of a car passed, then the scuffle of a person or two outside, as well as the far off yap of a neighbouring dog. And still they just stood there, staring.

She took another step nearer and Matty attempted not to react to the way her fingers caught on the front of his coat, memorising the careful way she started to peel it off of him, turning so that she could claim it and then hang it off some place to the side. He looked at her the whole while, scared to take his eyes off her, in truth.

He licked at his lower lip when he caught her staring too and captured her hand in his when she went to step around him. 

“Tea.” He reminded himself and she smiled, eyes flickering across the length of his face. As though she was seeing him for the first time.

“Tea.”

…

Her kitchen always felt so homely. 

She had spices fixed to a rack on the wall, wound in growing ivy attached to the potted plant that sat on the windowsill beside it. Her fridge was dotted in magnets and polaroids, and a drawing of Teddy’s hung front and centre. The table was always so neat, though still cluttered with the odd crayon and lego piece, a bowl of fruit was perched in the very middle. She had one of those kettle cosy’s too, a knitted one that reminded Matty of days spent at his nana’s house when he was just a boy. 

His favourite part of all of it though, had to be her. 

He stood in the doorway and just watched as she puttered about the space, flashbacks of previous visits coming back to him. She had this easy grace about her, an elegance he always seen but could never quite make out. She was a piece to many puzzles in the way she typically held herself, so ready to fight and so willing to wilt, but in that moment she just was.

And Matty could hardly tear his eyes away from her, from the length of her back to the curve of her waist. The taste, the memory of her still coating his tongue.

He’d kicked off his shoes before he could trail a messy track throughout her home, so his footsteps were quiet when he finally crossed the kitchen tiles. He paused just behind her, his hands falling to her hips whilst his chin dropped to rest on her shoulder.

She allowed it. Picking up the kettle to pour over two mismatched mugs, he simply watched her work.

It was a difficult task not allowing his hands to wander, or to keep his mouth from pressing against the pulse in her neck, but he withheld, content to just hold her. Humming when she picked up the milk and thinking over the last day they’d spent together. That night at his.

They moved over to the table not long after, her kitchen blinds were still open so the moon gifted them all the light they needed. Matty kept close, knocking his knees against hers at the very corner of the table, unwilling to go without.

She was quiet still whilst she danced a finger around the rim of her steaming brew, Matty was mesmerised by the delicate motion.

A hum of hers broke the silence they had since settled in, the softness of it causing him to blink and look up, immediately recognising the faint tune of the demo he’d sent her.

He smiled, his eyes caught on to the one she wore too. Practically conspiratorial.

His legs reached outwards to capture one of her ankles between his feet, her gaze flickered back and forth between both his eyes. He wondered what she saw in them, what she made of him.

“I’m guessing you liked it then.” Matty spoke, voice ever so low, still scared to break their languid solitude.

Mouse dipped her chin in a nod, peering up at him through dark lashes that made him want to catch her by the neck and pull her in again. He knew what she tasted like now, he felt as though it would forever haunt him.

“Thank you,” She whispered after, fingers cupped around the bottom of her mug. His brow furrowed.

“For what?”

She smiled again, blinking at him sweetly, “For my gifts, for always being so lovely, for sending me that song.”

Matty snorted, knowing that the last thing he could possibly be was lovely.

Fingertips touched his chin then and she guided his face back up to meet hers, he hadn’t realised he’d even looked away. But it was then that he was reminded of that night in his own kitchen, crowded between her legs and the counter, her kind eyes. You’re enough.

“Was it for me?” She questioned, watching him closely again. Something she tended to always do. “‘Cause that kiss, it sort of made it feel like it was for me.”

Matty grinned, eyes squinting with the strength of it. 

It was so easy- too easy, even- for her to make him smile like that, and he couldn’t even begin to decide whether he loved or hated the fact that she had the ability. 

“Yeah, Squeaks. It was for you.”

Her cheeks dimpled in an attempt to dim the smile she then wore, elbows pressing against the table’s edge, her foot resting on top of his own. “Good.” She murmured, leaning in closer now.

“Good?” He chuckled, following the motion. Eyes caught on the curve of her mouth.

“Uhuh,” She breathed into the small space between them, nose brushing against the side of Matty’s own. “Really good.”

He laughed again, low and breathy this time around, before he finally closed the distance and kissed her for a second time.

She laughed too, smiling against his lips.

–

For an insomniac, the dark was a place full of many contradictions.

Matty had spent countless hours staring up at all types of ceilings, in all sorts of places, and in all kinds of countries. But hers, he reckoned, was possibly his favourite. As most things had come to be in the short time he’d spent with Mouse.

Because even as she slept on beside him, bundled in the duvet and a blanket that smelt of her, he didn’t stress over the fact that he was still wide awake. 

His mind was too preoccupied to stress. Just thinking back to the expression she’d worn when she’d first opened the front door. To the breathy gasps that had escaped her in the hallway. The way she’d gently carded her fingers through his hair after she’d lured him into bed. Promising to talk more tomorrow.

He thought of Luke then, as well. As he often did whenever the darkness plagued him.

The fucker would be laughing if he could just see him now, obsessing and all soppy over some bird. Smiling away to himself in the dark.

But Matty knew that he’d be happy too. Glad that he was finally getting back on the right track. Actually trying this time around. Because Luke had known the hardships of addiction just as well as Matty had- it was what had killed him in the end, wasn't it.

He could still picture his face, both before and after the fall. One second they’d all been grinning on that roof, high as kites and drunk out of their minds, having the time of their lives, and then his had hit the concrete.

Matty’s stomach rolled at the thought.

At the eerie silence that had followed.

He’d been struggling that night, trying to get clean, to stay clean. And they’d only gone to the party, Luke and Danny, to appease him. Luke, having tagged along wanting to look out for him, to make sure that he didn’t get too caught up in anything he couldn’t get himself out of.

Luke had been sober three months at that point. Clean of the drugs and the drink. All of it. He’d drank that night though, the party had been at one of his dodgier mates places and he wouldn’t have been able to have stayed in the clear.

Matty remembered egging him on, telling him to live a little. To have a beer. A shot. And then another. And another. Someone else had offered him that line though.

He’d been hammered by the time some idiot had come up with that dare and they’d all thought it had been a sick idea to try and walk the length of the roof. Like they were at Zippo’s sodding circus.

Luke had been doing so good. Matty had known it too. What with his first EP coming out that September, something which Jamie had made happen, and his new flat that he’d not long moved into. Away from the familiarity of street corners he knew far too well and faces of dealers that he’d seen time and time again before.

He’d been good. Been going steady.

Then he was just dead.

Matty didn’t close his eyes then, even as they began to water. Didn’t want to see him like that. Knew that he would if only he shut his eyes. Because he couldn't stand to see the reminder, the life that had left him too quickly.

A slight sniff broke him from his thoughts then and he stilled as Mouse moved and turned in her sleep.

He let himself breathe a little easier once she’d settled again, tucking her face into the crook of his shoulder and nestling further into his side. He wrapped an arm around her, needing her close, and then finally allowed his eyes to fall shut, burying his face in the top of her hair.

He wondered if she’d let him stay from now on and pressed a long kiss to her forehead.

He hoped that she would, listening to the quiet that hummed throughout the rest of her flat as his mind began to let go of what consciousness it had once clung on to.

‘Tomorrow’ was his final thought before he eventually drifted off. It had been a long time since he’d thought that he’d ever make it to a tomorrow.

–

It was a grunt I woke up to. The heavy and unfavoured kind, the type that was only ever forced out of you when you received a hefty blow to the stomach.

I felt my face wrinkle as I pressed in closer to the warmth beside me, unhappy to have been woken. But then I heard a whisper, followed by a giggle, which had me blinking blearily and peering up at the toddler now towering over me.

“Wake now?”

“Teddy.” I heard someone else laugh right above my head, and I was quick in the way I looked up, recognising that the warmth I’d been clinging to had been Matty all along. “You’re an actual monster, you know that?”

Teddy squealed happily when Matty tickled his sides, but seemed content with his place on the man’s stomach and the fact that Matty was here at all. 

I wanted to groan at the very idea, I hadn't much thought this through. Not when I’d heard the song, thinking back to the night I’d spent at his, the fight we’d had, the way he’d held Teddy and promised him that things would soon be alright.

It hadn’t felt real. It still didn’t.

“Wake?” Teddy said to me again and I had to give a soft laugh when I felt his finger prod at my cheek, which was probably marked with the line of Matty’s t-shirt now. “Yeah?”

I chuckled again, peering up at him. “Yeah, I’m awake.” I replied, smiling before I rubbed at my eyes.

Matty’s arm seemed to be tucked up under me because it twitched a tad when I moved. I grimaced at the loss of feeling he must have experienced and murmured a quiet “Sorry,” shuffling over slightly so that I could free the limb. But he merely laughed to himself before his hand came up to rub at my arm, keeping me close. 

“It’s fine.” Matty replied, his voice tinged with sleep and grainy from lack of use, but then he winced and flexed his fingers, “Oh.”

I snorted softly and glanced up at him, “Pins and needles?”

His nose wrinkled further, as did his lips when he tilted his head back and tried to shake loose the feeling from his wrist. I let him have his arm back, turning over onto my stomach to simply watch him, drinking in the sight of him whilst I still could.

“Yeah.” He hissed out and Teddy, who was watching too, started to shake his arm alongside Matty.

Matty only noticed the mimicking movement when he felt the toddler shift on his torso and opened his eyes up only to laugh at the way that Teddy was now copying him.

“Oi,” He admonished, using his other hand to playfully pinch at the boy’s side, “What you think you’re doin’?”

Teddy giggled, hair a mess from having just woken but grinning all the while. “Dancin’! Like you!”

I shook my head and bit back my sudden amusement before dropping it down into my hands when I couldn’t quite manage to hide my growing smile.

“Oh, we’re dancing are we?” I heard Matty say, and could feel the grin he probably wore. Then Teddy was laughing again and squirming beside me once more, sounding so happy, before the bed tilted more so to one side and a soft thud was heard. “Oi, where you off to!” Matty asked him whilst Teddy’s giggles still echoed around the space.

“Tele!” Was the only response he got and I listened to the way Teddy’s feet hurried out of the room, having escaped Matty’s merciless tickles.

There was a quiet for a moment before I felt a hand come to cradle my head and fingers card their way through my hair.

I leaned into the touch, savouring it. I didn’t think anyone had ever touched me with such a softness before, like I was something to be treasured, to be held and kept close.

It was a long while before I finally raised my head again, blinking at the sweet sight I was met with. I smiled at the mess his curls were in and the way his eyes squinted in the dim light of the room.

“Hi.” I whispered and his fingers stilled in my hair when he looked back at me. 

Matty didn’t say a thing though, merely shuffled further down the bed, the duvet being kicked somewhere to the bottom before he finally settled in beside me, both our heads now resting on a single pillow.

His fingertips skirted along the edge of my jaw and trailed across the bottom of my lip before his thumb reached out to catch it too, pinching the flesh ever so slightly.

“You snore.” Matty said to me then and my mouth dropped open slightly in offence.

“I do not.”

He snorted to himself, grin widening, “You do.”

I shoved him but his hands were quick to grab at my arms, wrapping them up and moving to press them against his chest. “It’s cool though, they’re cute snores.”

“How the fuck can they be cute, Matty?”

He rolled his eyes at the ask, still grinning away. “Like, just soft and stuff. Don’t stress, I’ve roomed with George and he’s got the lungs of a whale or summat. I could probably sleep next to a fog horn and feel at home.”

A bright laugh escaped me at that, before I was shaking my head gently and looking back at his sleepy smile. “That makes me feel so much better.”

Matty smacked his lips around another grin, shrugging the shoulder that wasn’t pressed to the mattress. He reached out then, brushing a loose strand from out of my face and let his thumb linger on a freckle.

“Your breath stinks as well.”

I bit into my bottom lip at that, narrowing my eyes at him. “Well yours is no better! And besides, you didn’t seem to mind it much last night.”

I went to turn over then but he was hasty in his movements to grab at me, tugging me back towards him, closer this time. I laughed joyfully, “Hey!”

“Hi.” Matty grinned smugly once we'd settled, his hand falling to the small of my back.

I was gripping one of his shoulders now whilst my other arm laid in the little space between us. “I said that already.” I told him, feeling each soft exhale that escaped him. 

He hummed, thumb rubbing circles into my skin. “I missed you, you know.”

My brow furrowed, “You slept right beside me, you muppet.”

He pinched my hip in retaliation and so I chuckled. “You know what I meant.”

I did know.

“Missed you, too.” I murmured, letting my fingertips trail up over the side of his neck, liking the feel of his barely there stubble. “But-”

He stopped me then, nudging my cheek with the tip of his nose, “I know. Later, yeah?”

My eyes fell closed and I hummed in agreement, later was fine. We could talk later.

His hand pressed against the curve of my back, forcing me even closer, and so my fingers worked themselves into his hair. I exhaled softly and tilted my head forward just a touch. He closed the distance between us in a single heartbeat.

Kissing Matty was different, everything about it just felt right in a way that no other kisses ever quite had. Things appeared to click. Fall into place around me. 

But don't get me wrong, it was painful too, because there was that ache in my chest again, the hole that hollowed out my unforgiving heart. I wanted him but at the same time, I was too terrified to reach out and touch.

Our lips brushed, once, twice, then a third time, hesitant and careful, before something shifted and I was taken back to the previous night. To the way his fingers had dug deep into my thighs, to the front door pressing against my spine, to the way he’d held me so weightlessly.

Talking could wait til later, I reminded myself.

Now, all I wanted was for Matty to consume me and I immediately gasped at the cold hand that dragged its way up my side to tease me, thumb brushing against the nipple that hardened beneath it. 

I wouldn’t let him have all the fun though, so without a second thought I rolled him over and settled on his hips. He was surprised by the change but adapted seamlessly, rutting up off the mattress to meet me, one hand still toying with me, taunting, whilst the other cupped the back of my head.

It was back and forth for a short while, mouth chasing mouth, chests heaving with the force of it.

But then, a bang hollowed out the flat.

I jumped at the sudden noise and shot my head over towards the door, listening in closer.

“Okay?” I called out, noting the breathless quality my voice now had. I waited and didn’t move even when Matty’s hands came to just sit on my waist. 

“‘Kay!” I heard Teddy shout back and I released a semi-amused huff before turning back to face the man beneath me, “Sorry.”

And I was. I really was, especially when I forced myself to drop back down onto the bed sheets next to him.

Matty simply chuckled and I glanced over at him, smiling slightly when he reached out to swipe a gentle thumb over the scar on my jaw. “You’re good." I wondered if he was just saying that, but then, "What do you think he’s actually done though? Sounded like the bike to me.”

I sighed at the very thought. The bike had been one of my mum’s many Christmas gifts to Teddy, one which I hardly had any room for in the flat. I silently hoped that it wasn't the bike, but was caught on the way Matty had so easily adapted, moving on without complaint.

Was that normal?

Matty’s hand coaxed me back into looking at him again and I softened when I saw the smile he wore. “Later,” He reminded me, knocking a knuckle against my chin before he withdrew completely, sitting up on the edge of the bed. “How about a fry up then? There's that bakery by the studio or the cafe up near mine, choice is yours but it’s on me.”

“Matty.” I huffed, not a whine but near enough, extending an arm out in hopes that it would call him back to bed.

He smirked, glancing at me from over his shoulder once he'd stood. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Come on, got a growing boy to feed- Teddy too, I 'spose.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help my grin. “You’re an idiot.”

“So you’ve said.” He quipped and I could hear how his laughter filled the flat even as he headed for the bathroom, “Teds get ready, mate! We're getting bacon!”

I fell back onto the mattress with a smile, staring up at the ceiling above me with a little bit of hope.

[mamaestapa]

California Love

“California knows how to party in the city of LA…we keep it rockin’”

• pairing: Jamie Drysdale x Hughes!reader||Trevor Zegras x Hughes!reader

• series summary: Y/n Hughes, twin sister of Jack Hughes, accepts an invitation to move in with Trevor and Jamie after she’s forced to move to Anaheim for a job. Despite her older brother’s opinions, the young woman finds herself falling for both of her roommates…but which one does she fall for the hardest?

• chapter summary: You, Trevor and Jamie have a beach day in Malibu and the day ends with a tense situation between you and Trevor

• word count: 4k

• warnings: language, fluff, sexual tension, suggestive language, wardrobe malfunctions, reader walks in on Trevor ;)

series masterlist

August 25, 2023

"Oh Y/n/n," Trevor called out to you in a sing song tone, "you ready?"

You put on a pair of denim shorts before leaving your room and heading downstairs where Trevor and Jamie were waiting. You threw your hair up in a claw clip as you walked down the stairs. You shoved your phone into your back pocket as you walked into the kitchen. Trevor was texting on his phone as Jamie was packing the beach bag and cooler full of snacks and drinks. Today, you Trevor and Jamie were headed to Malibu for a beach day. You mentioned a few nights ago that you'd been to California many times, but you'd never been to Malibu. Upon hearing that, Trevor insisted that the three of you have a beach day there.

"You're such great help, Trev." You said, making your presence in the kitchen known. Trevor perked his head up, turning his attention to you. His lips pulled up in a smirk as he replied, "Would've helped if you were down here sooner."

"Shut up, Zegras."

You walked further into the kitchen, smiling softly at Jamie as you reached for the bottles of water. You put them into the small blue cooler as Jamie zipped up the beach bag.

"Thanks, Y/n." Jamie said as he smiled sheepishly at you. You looked up at him, your smile growing as you nodded. "You're welcome, I'm used to filling in for Trevor all the time."

It was Trevor's turn to playfully tell you to shut up. "Shut up, Hughes." You rolled your eyes in response as you grabbed the handle of the cooler. Jamie grabbed the navy blue and white striped beach bag as Trevor slid his slides on. He clapped his hands together as he looked at you and Jamie.

"Ready?"

"Been ready for the past twenty minutes Z."

"Okay Jimmy," Trevor scoffed, "Y/n wasn't ready."

You just shook your head at the brunette as you pushed your way past him. You started walking out of the kitchen and out to the entryway. You turned over your shoulder, calling out to Trevor and Jamie just like Trevor did earlier.

"Oh Trevor, Jamie," you called in a sing song tone, "you ready?"

Both boys left the kitchen, joining you in the entryway. Jamie was chuckling at your teasing tone as Trevor just shook his head. You always loved teasing Trevor, especially if he did it to you first. That's how your relationship with Trevor has always been since the moment Jack introduced you for the first time. Lots of flirting, lots of teasing, but no meaning behind it. It's just how the dynamic between you two worked out.

Trevor slipped past you and opened the front door of the apartment. He practically sprinted out the door and down the couple concrete slabs to get to his car first. You and Jamie watched with raised eyebrows and looks of amusement as Trevor held up his keys.

"We're taking the Bronco. Come on." He jingled his keys before popping open the trunk for you and Jamie to put the beach bag and cooler into. Trevor hopped into the drivers seat as you and Jamie packed the bags into the trunk. Jamie put the beach bag in first before he grabbed the cooler from your hands. You muttered a soft "thank you" to the sweet ducks player. A slight blush appeared on Jamie's freckled cheeks as his hand brushed against yours. Jamie was always more on the shy side. You found how easily he got flustered to be super cute. Jamie could feel your gaze on him, which only made him grow even more flustered. He cleared his throat as he shut the trunk and snapped his thoughts away from you staring at him.

"I call shotgun." He said with a playful smile on his face as he looked down at you. You brought a hand up to his back, patting Jamie's shoulder as you spoke, "All yours Jamie, I'll let you deal with Trevor the whole ride."

"Actually you can-."

"Nope," you said, cutting him off as you opened the door to the backseat passenger side of Trevor's Bronco. "You already called it."

Jamie shook his head at you as you just smiled at him and shut the door. Once Jamie was settled in the passenger seat and the two of you were buckled, Trevor pulled out of the driveway and rolled all the windows down.

"Malibu here we come!" He yelled, "WOOOO!"

You and Jamie just laughed at him as he whooped and hollered excitedly. Trevor picked his phone up and handed it to Jamie. "All yours bud, play something good."

"Rooftop playlist?"

Trevor glanced over at Jamie, shaking his head no, "That's reserved for the rooftop, you know that dude."

"Fine, uhhhh..." Jamie trailed off as he scrolled through Trevor's Spotify. Trevor reached out and snatched the phone from Jamie, "I got one, I got one."

California Love by 2pac began playing. Trevor started bopping his head to the beat as he reached out and turned the volume up. You laughed happily as Trevor sped up. The wind blowing through your hair and the obnoxious singing from Trevor and Jamie had you feeling like you were living a dream.

~time skip~

"Y/n, you got it?" Jamie called as he stepped back to throw a pass. You held your hands up, nodding as you called back, "Throw it!"

Jamie threw the football in your direction, and just as you were about to catch it Trevor jumped in front of you and intercepted it. You gasped softly, reaching out to tug on his tatted arm. He was belly laughing as you tugged at his arm to pull him back toward you. Trevor's grip on the football stayed firm as you tried your best to take it from him. You were about to rip it from his grasp when Trevor dropped the ball and quickly scooped you up into his arms instead. You erupted into a fit of giggles as he spun you around. He put you back down and as soon as your feet hit the sand Trevor unwrapped his arms from around you and let you go. As soon as his arm fell from your body, you noticed your swim top felt looser than normal. With brows furrowed in confusion, you looked down. Your eyes widened in horror as you noticed your top had come undone and was this close to slipping down your chest.

"Trevor!" You gasped as you held the cups of your bikini close to your chest, making sure you didn't expose yourself to Trevor or Jamie and the rest of Malibu. Trevor's blue-green eyes widened as he saw the back of your swimsuit top had somehow come untied while he was holding onto you. He chuckled softly as he pressed his chest against your back, "I got you."

Trevor stepped back as he grabbed the strings of your bikini with his tanned veiny hands. His long skilled fingers carefully tied the red strings, making sure it was tight enough so it wouldn't come loose again. You were about to step away when you felt the top tighten, but Trevor moved closer to you, causing you to halt your movements. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you felt Trevor's fingers gingerly trail down your back, stopping at the side of your waist where your bottoms hugged your hips. His breath was hot on your neck as he played with the stings of your bottoms like he would on the boat during the summer. You felt your heart skip a beat and the butterflies swarm in your belly, something that happens a lot when Trevor would do stuff like this.

No Y/n. You can't feel this way.

You turned your head to the side, craning your neck up to look at the hockey player. His light brown hair was messy on the top of his head, almost looking golden in the California sunshine. Trevor looked into your eyes as the corners of his mouth turned up in a small smirk. Your lips were only inches from his. But you couldn't...

You sighed softly before you stepped away from Trevor. You decided to ease the tension, the sexual tension, by making a joke. It was something you and Jack always did in awkward situations, especially with your friends.

"If you wanted to see me naked so bad, you could've just asked." You teased, laughing softly. Trevor gave your shoulder a light smack before he stepped away to stand in front of you as you adjusted your top.

"I'll remember that for next time."

The two of you looked at each other and let out a laugh at the exchanged teasing words. That's all it would ever be. Just playful teasing.

"Come on, Jimmy's getting the food out. Im starving." Trevor motioned for you to follow him back to the blanket laid out a couple yards away where you had set everything up for the day. You let out a laugh as you caught up to him.

"You're always starving."

"I'm a growing boy, Y/n."

You let out a sigh that turned into a laugh as you sat down on the blanket next to Jamie. He handed you a bottled water and a sandwich upon sitting down. You smiled softly at the boy, leaning your head on his shoulder as you thanked him. You lifted your head from his bare shoulder and opened your water, bringing it up to your lips and taking a generous swig of the cold liquid.

Trevor sat down beside you as Jamie handed him a water and sandwich too. The three of you ate your lunch and made some small talk, happily laughing as Trevor told some random story. The beach day was good for all three of you. Your mind was only focused on having fun with your roommates today and not on your first day of work in a few days. Trevor and Jamie were having issues with contract disputes and working out extensions, so it was nice for them to have a break from worrying about their jobs too.

The rest of the afternoon on the beach was spent with Trevor throwing you in the water, Trevor and Jamie playing their own game of dogfight football like they do in Top Gun, and the three of you laying out in the sun just enjoying each others company.

A couple hours after your wardrobe malfunction and lunch, you were laying out on the blanket with eyes closed. You were soaking in the suns rays as the sounds of Trevor’s loud music filled your ears. You heard Jamie groan softly beside you as she got up and stretched. He grabbed his Ducks baseball hat from the top of Trevor’s chair and put it on after he smoothed out his dark hair.

“You want to go on a walk with me?” Jamie asked as he glanced over at you. You took your sunglasses off your face, smiling softly at Jamie as you nodded.

“Sure.”

He held his hand out for you to grab, helping you up from your spot in the sand. You thanked him softly as you brushed the sand off your thighs. You and Jamie started to walk along the beach, making small talk as you walked through the water and sand of Malibu.

"So how do you like California?" Jamie asked. You nodded, smiling softly as you spoke, "I love it so far. The sun, the beaches, the palm trees." You looked over at Jamie as you continued, "The people here are pretty great too."

Jamie smiled sheepishly as a blush creeped up his neck. Or maybe it was just from the heat and harsh sun, either way Jamie grew red.

"I don't know about that, Z is pretty crazy."

You laughed, "You're not wrong about that one. He keeps life interesting." Jamie nodded, "That he does. I love the guy, makes being far from home not too bad."

"Do you ever miss Canada?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest as you continued to walk along the beach. Jamie nodded his head yes.

"Sometimes," he looked over at you as he spoke, "My family mostly, I'll visit during the off-season or when we get some time off. I do love it here in Anaheim though. The weather, the people, its great."

You nodded as Jamie spoke. His face lit up as he talked about Toronto and all the things he missed the most. You could tell Jamie was a big family guy by the way he talked about his parents and brother. You and Jamie had that in common, you were both very family oriented.

"I get that," you said smiling softly as you thought about your family, "I already miss my brothers. Especially Jack."

"I'm sure they miss you too, but we've got plenty of room..." Jamie laughed, "If Jack bunks with Trevor and the others take the couch."

You laughed along with Jamie. You could already hear Jack complain about having to bunk with Trevor.

"I think he'd absolutely hate that. And I love it."

Jamies laughter made your smile wider. He had a cute laugh.

"You've got a cute laugh Jamie."

"Thanks, you're the first one that's said that."

You cocked your head to the side as you looked at him in shock, "There's no way. Im sure it makes the girls swoon." Jamie shook his head, "Nope, I don't know if you've noticed. I don't have the best luck with girls."

"Awe," you said, frowning softly, "I'll help you out. You can practice on me."

You didn't mind giving Jamie a little help when it came to picking up girls. Besides, your advice would be much better than the advice his best friend was giving him. You and Jamie both laugh together as you walk back to your set up. Trevor is looking at both of you with raised eyebrows as you stand in front of him.

"What?" Jamie asks as he plops down on the blanket. Trevor smirks as he narrowed his eyes at you, "I saw you walking along the beach together being all giggly and shit."

"You jealous Trevor?" You asked with raised eyebrows, teasing the boy once again.

"Yeah, yeah I am. Jimmy is mine."

The three of you laughed at Trevors words as you sat down. You decided to enjoy the next couple hours at the beach laying out in the sun and covering your feet in the warm sand. Around five, you all decided to pack up and head back home to Anaheim. On the way back home, Jamie let you have the passenger seat this time. Not only did you get control of the aux, but you had to deal with Trevor too. You didn't mind one bit. You'd always sit up front with Trevor if you could.

~time skip~

"Showers mine!" Trevor yelled, pushing past you and Jamie as soon as the three of you were inside. You just got back to the condo from a long day at the beach with the boys and Trevor called dibs on the first shower.

It wasn't an issue for you, you had your own bathroom. But poor Jamie had to share one with Trevor.

"Oh come on Z," Jamie groaned as he crossed his arms, "I'm covered in sunscreen dude. I feel disgusting."

"Maybe don't put so much on next time?" Trevor shouted from the top of the stairs, feeling no remorse for taking the shower from his best friend.

Jamie rolled his eyes at the sound of the bathroom door upstairs clicking shut. You frowned softly at the boy next to you. You and Trevor could get away with going without a large amount of sunscreen. You both practically grew up out in the sun and on the lake, so you really only had to apply it once. Jamie on the other hand was re-applying sunscreen every couple hours. He was so pale that if he didn't constantly re-apply he'd be burnt for days. You could tell he was uncomfortable with the amount of oily sunscreen on his skin that accumulated throughout the day. Jamie was also extremely irritated with his best friend because Trevor didn't know how to take a quick shower either.

"Jamie," you said softly, causing him to turn and look at you. A soft smile pulled at your lips as you spoke, "You can take my bathroom. I can wait."

"You don't have to do that." Jamie said, shaking his head no. You shrugged, "It's no big deal, you need it more than me."

"Are you sure?"

"I mean as long as you don't mind smelling like coconut and roses." Jamie chuckled softly, "I think it'll make Trevor jealous."

"Good, let him be jealous." You laughed, "Now go shower, get that nasty stuff off of you."

"Thank you, Y/n." Jamie said softly, a warm smile on his lips as he looked at you. You noticed the pink blush on his freckled cheeks that grew darker the second you looked into his soft blue eyes. Jamie's blush was the cutest thing you'd ever seen. You couldn't help but smile at the redness on his cheeks.

"You're welcome Jamie." You replied sweetly as he started to head toward your bathroom.

As both boys were showering, you decided to sit down at the island and scroll through your phone. You replied to some friends, scrolled through tik tok, and checked your email. You were supposed to start your new job in a few days, so you had to make sure nobody from the company was trying to get a hold of you while you were gone.

About twenty minutes had passed and you really needed pee. Both bathrooms were occupied, with the showers still sounding like they were running. You definitely weren't going to have any hot water. You got up from the barstool and walked through the living room and down the hallway where your bedroom and bathroom were. You knocked on the door, hearing Jamie call out softly to you as his voice was muffled by the shower curtain and sound of running water.

"Sorry Jamie, but I really have to pee. Can I come in real quick?"

"Shit," you heard the shower curtain pull back, his voice louder as he spoke, "I locked the door and I just put shampoo in. Give me a couple minutes?"

"No it's fine, I'll just go upstairs."

You thanked Jamie anyways before heading upstairs, silently hoping that Trevor was either out of the shower or that he left the door unlocked. As you got closer to the boys bathroom, you noticed that the shower wasn't on anymore.

Thank god...

Folding your hand into a first, you reached out and knocked on the bathroom door. You told Trevor it was you and that you really needed to pee. He told you to come in, so you opened the door. Not really paying much attention to the scene in front of you as you opened and shut the bathroom door. After closing the door, you turned around and froze in your spot. You couldn't believe what you were seeing. You felt like you were in a dream.

Trevor was in the shower with the curtain pulled wide open. His whole body was exposed. He was drying his brown hair off with the white towel, meaning there was nothing covering his wet, naked body. Water droplets were trickling down his toned golden skin as the muscles in his tatted arm flexed with each shake of the towel. Your heart felt like it was in your throat as you stared at the boy in front of you. Your breathing was heavy and you couldn’t help but trail your eyes down his body before you realized what you were looking at. You quickly covered them as you let out a soft gasp.

"Oh my god-"

“Shit!” Trevor yelped, as quickly tied the towel around his waist. He hadn't even thought about covering his exposed body until he heard your soft gasp.

“I’m so sorry, Z!” You said sincerely, almost sounding mortified at the sight of seeing your best friend naked. Trevor shook his head, laughing softly as he spoke, "It's fine, it's my fault. Sorry."

You kept your hands over your eyes. Trevor chuckled as he reached out and took your hands away.

"You can open your eyes angel, I promise I'm covered."

You opened your eyes, gulping as you made eye contact with Trevor. The towel was now hanging low around his waist. You could see the outline of his v-line and the light happy trail leading down from his belly button to his most intimate area. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you looked into Trevors eyes. He was smirking softly at you as his eyes trailed down your body too. He wet his lips as hie eyes landed on the top of your boobs sticking out from your bikini. His smirk only grew as his eyes trailed down your torso. He reached out and touched the jewelry adorning your belly button, something he'd always do whenever you wore a swimsuit. It was no secret that Trevor loved your piercing.

The steam from the shower and the intense gaze Trevor was throwing your way made the bathroom feel extremely hot and suddenly you didn't know if you had to pee anymore or if there was another issue that needed taken care of now. No words were shared between you and Trevor as the two of you just stared at each other in a tense silence.

That messy light brown hair, all you wanted to do was run your finger through those waves…

That tanned toned body, all you wanted to do was run your hands down his torso and feel every ab muscle on your fingertips...

Those muscular arms that Trevor worked so hard to grow during the off-season, all you wanted to do was run your fingers over every bulging muscle, every prominent vein, and every dark inked tattoo…

And those soft, veiny hands, all you wanted was for his skilled fingers to touch your most intimate places…

Trevor smirked as he watched you squirm under his gaze. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't you have to piss?"

Way to ruin the moment.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and took a breath to compose yourself. You laughed softly, "Yeah, I just uh got distracted."

"You're welcome."

"Shut up."

Trevor chuckled as he stepped out of the shower and walked towards the door. He looked over his shoulder as he spoke, "I'll give you some privacy. If Jamie is still in your bathroom, you can shower up here."

"Thanks Trev." You said softly as you kept your eyes locked on his back muscles. He nodded and left the bathroom, "Of course baby."

Once the door clicked shut you let out a soft whine. You put your head in your hands and rubbed them down your face as you groaned softly.

Baby.

Trevor had always called you that pet name, but something about the way he said it just know made the butterflies in your tummy swarm wildly and the longing ache between your thighs worsen. The sexual tension was only growing between the two of you and you didn't know how to fix it.

Well, you knew how to fix it. You definitely knew how to fix it. However, if you fixed that issue solved that tension, more problems would be created. More problems that you didn't want to deal with. Your body didn't seem to care about that though...

Living with Trevor was going to be the death of you.

hi loves!!

i have not updated this series in MONTHS. it feels so good to write chapters again lol.

ive been answering lots of au asks though, which has given me so many ideas for this story. im very excited to get further into the series and write out some of these asks that you've all sent in! speaking of the au asks, KEEP THEM COMING! i love answering them and hearing your thoughts (you've completely changed the direction I was going to take this series originally, and im so excited its changed)

thank you for your patience, love and support. you all mean so much to me!! life has been crazy, college has been crazy and kicking my booty, so i haven't done as much writing as ive wanted to. so thank you for being so patient as you wait for updates🫂🤍 i will try my best to be more consistent!

i love you all so much. i hope you enjoyed this chapter and keep that asks coming lovelies!😚🤍

tags: @34tkachuk @emaanemaa @sammiejane22 @tpwkstiles @kkrenae @grandprixbarzal @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @privatemythss @prettyinsatiable

(if you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments!)

[abubblingcandle]

Jamie Tartt Accent Analysis

Um so yeah, after an anon ask to @withbadhair talking about how Phil is posh and Jamie is Manc, I relistened to Phil Dunster's episode on No Such Thing As A Fish again today and got sucked back into how much I love thinking about the intricacies of regional accents and how much I love thinking about Phil's accent work and how it is great!

So here you go -

A Yorkshire Lass' with an obsession with regional UK accents' take on Jamie Tartt's accent

Phil's Intentions with the accent

Phil has said that it was really his choice what sort of Manchester accent they went for (as Jamie wasn't written specifically to be Mancunian) but he was aiming for New Moston sort of area which is north eastern Manchester suburb (see yellow highlighted area on the image)

But he started by mimicking his agent who is apparently sassy and from Manchester but then listened to people like Aitch (who is from Moston which is probably where the idea for Jamie being from Moston/New Moston came from), Marcus Rashford (who is from Wythenshawe which is south Manchester out of the Outer Ring Road), Jesse Lingard (who is from Warrington which is a town between Manchester and Liverpool to the west) the Gallaghers (who are from Burnage which is south eastern - near Highfield Country Park on the map) which was more season 1 Jamie.

It was mentioned that Aitch was a bit inspiration with the attitude and the sort of swagger as well as the accent itself.

Features of a Mancunian Accent (some things to listen out for)

Research says that the Manchester accent can be characterised by a few distinct features:

The LettER vowel: if there is an ER at the end of a word it is pronounced more like UH. So for example "letter" becomes "let-uh"

The HappY vowel: what Jamie is known for. If there is a Y at the end of a word it is pronounced more like EH. For example "poopy" being "poopeh" or "city" being "cit-eh

H-dropping: this is typically northern but prevalent in Manchester. It is not pronouncing the H at the start of a word so instead of saying "head" pronouncing it "ed".

T-glotallisation: if there is a T in the middle of a word it is sort of dragged over. Like in "better" it can be "beh-uh".

-NG: typically if a word ends in -NG you do not say the G. For example "waiting" is "waitin"

All of these features are more easily noticed in words where more than one of them happens like "happy" becomes "appeh" with both H-dropping and the Y at the end

Analysis of Jamie Tartt's accent from a professional (not me)

Manchester Met have done a study of the different dialects within Greater Manchester and have split it into four categories. Lancashire, Mancs, Wigan, Posh. If Phil was aiming for Moston that would be more Manc but some Lancashire.

Dr Rob Drummond who was the lead on this research was sent clips of Jamie Tartt (edit - as a few people commented on this but he is a friend of No Such Thing As A Fish so was sent it in preparation for Phil being on the podcast but was apparently very complimentary so definitely a Phil Dunster win!) and managed to locate very precisely to just north of central Manchester in the Smedley sort of area which is the blue area on the map. If you compare that with Phil's aim of the red area ... that's damn impressive

So if you are looking for areas of Manchester to set your fics around or ways to make your dialogue feel more Tartt. Then we are looking for the Mancs accent and living somewhere in just north/north west of central Manchester based on his accent.

So yeah thanks for reading my thesis. I was going to go into words and sayings here too but it's after midnight and I have been talking to myself for the last hour just repeating the same words in Queens English, Leeds, and Manc 😂

Disclaimer - this is more based on S3 Jamie as S1 Jamie had a lot more subdued characteristics as Phil was finding his feet with the accent.

Side Plug as I have preordered it - Dr Rob Drummond's book called You're All Talk is coming out soon and it is all about this stuff and also social perceptions of linguistic diversity (which as someone who's accent massively chances based on the situation I am in I am super interested in)

[brian-in-finance]

Shippers should stop emphasizing the skin dipping on that beach, because according to John and Sophie there were only 2 full moons, his and hers, not the others. Starz just posted the clip on their IG. 🏖🌃🌕🌕

Thanks for the messages, Anons. 😃 (I think Jamie was busy elsewhere. 😬)

Let’s listen:

Video 📹 from Instagram

Screenshots account for the final 14 seconds of the video.

This is what I hear:

Sophie: J.B. was like, “Should we go for a swim?"

John: Naked.

Caitríona: And we did.

Sophie: Naked.

Sam: We did a skinny dip, yeah.

Sophie: And on the way to the sea, I remember I was just running and I just face-planted on the floor.

Based on that conversation, I think all four late-night party people went swimming, probably each of them naked. Whether all or some swam, whether some wore underwear, whether two or four bare bottoms were visible, is incidental to me. They enjoyed their time together and have a funny story to tell. (Sorry, Richard 😂)

This isn’t a life-altering or career-sinking or marriage-debunking event. It was a good time had by all. Four creative adults who have worked together for many years, on a TV show that isn’t shy about nudity, went skinny-dipping on a warm summer night. That one of them is married to a man who wasn’t there? Please… 🤦🏻‍♂️

IMO, on the list of things people should stop (Anon’s words) emphasising, skinny dipping barely invites notice. 😉

Remember… if people were meant to be nude, they would have been born this way. — Oscar Wilde

[artstatues]

Just like you. - a.k.g × j.w.h

wc : 388 ( fucking lazy ass ) pairings : avery grambs x jameson hawthorne, from the inheritance games. synopsis : heiress and jamie go on a little picnic date. warnings : fluff!! a/n : kinda short, sorry. taglist : @lxvebelle, @sophiesonlinediary, @urbanflorals @reyna-obsessed, @kozumesphone, @ilyiwdtpyiwmyhmtkys, @reminiscentreader, @never-enough-novels, @pockyyasii, @lanterns-and-daydreams.

“Heiress, you ready yet?” Jameson called out. Avery took a pretty long time getting ready for everything, but Jamie wasn’t going to complain when she looked like a goddess each time she finishes. “Yep, just give me a second!” Avery exclaimed while clipping on her left earring before fixing her eyeliner and finally leaving the bathroom. “Hi.” She smiled. Jameson’s jaw went slack because god- how right he was. Avery stood there like the prettiest being to ever walk on planet Earth. No– scratch that, she looked like a goddess that had just ascended from the heavens. “Jamie?” Avery snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Sorry Heiress, you just look too pretty.” Jameson explained, smirking which caused Avery’s face to turn the brightest shade of pink. “C’mon?” Jameson extended his hand before Avery interlocked hers.

The date blueprint was pretty simple: a picnic. But, there was absolutely no way they could do it in a regular park. There’d be paparazzi left and right, cameras flashing, “Avery, here!” or “Avery, look here!”. The pros and cons of being famous, unfortunately. So, Jameson had set up a small blanket in the estate’s garden, but a bit further than the indoor area, so it’ll feel somewhat closer to being in an actual park. “Close enough, thank you Jamie.” Avery smiled while Jameson leaned down for a quick kiss. Avery took Jameson’s hands and dragged him down to take a seat. “Oooh,” Avery marveled at the food choices. It wasn’t anything heavy, really, just a few pastries and an assortment of desserts. 

Right when the couple finished eating, leaving some leftovers, Jameson got up before reaching out a hand, saying, “Care for a walk, Heiress?” Avery took his hand, pulling herself up. “Of course,” She smiled. The wind made her floral-patterned dress flow around, making it look like the both of them were those perfect couples you’d find in magazines. Jamie’s grip on her hand tightened here and there, scared of letting her go.

Sometime during their walk, Avery found a flower that probably got cut off from its bush. “Hey, look, a flower,” Avery pointed out. Jameson crouched down to get it for her. “Here,” He tucked her hair and placed the flower in it. “Pretty flower.” Avery smiled, her face slowly getting hotter. “Just like you.” Jameson smirked.

[coffeeandacig]

HUGE M*A*S*H NEWS!

Direct of the MASH Matters Facebook Page

M*A*S*H: THE COMEDY THAT CHANGED TELEVISION, AN ALL-NEW TWO-HOUR CELEBRATION OF TELEVISION’S MOST INFLUENTIAL SITCOM

NEW ORIGINAL SPECIAL AIRS MONDAY, JANUARY 1, ON FOX

Featuring New Interviews with Cast Members Alan Alda, Gary Burghoff,

William Christopher, Jamie Farr, Mike Farrell, Wayne Rogers and Loretta Swit,

as well as Original Series Executive Producers Gene Reynolds and Burt Metcalfe

Plus Rarely-Seen Archival Interviews with Writer/Producer Larry Gelbart,

and Stars Larry Linville, Harry Morgan, McLean Stevenson and David Ogden Stiers

In the all-new two-hour special, M*A*S*H: The Comedy That Changed Television, premiering Monday, January 1 (8:00-10:00 PM ET/PT) on FOX, join the men and women who made M*A*S*H as they celebrate one of the most beloved, enduringly popular, often quoted and influential comedies ever created.

As the definitive look at the 14-time Emmy-winning television classic, the special centers around new interviews with original cast members Alan Alda (Capt. Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce), Gary Burghoff (Cpl. Walter "Radar" O'Reilly), William Christopher (Father Francis Mulcahy), Jamie Farr (Cpl./Sgt. Maxwell Q. "Max" Klinger), Mike Farrell (Capt. B.J. Hunnicutt), Wayne Rogers (Capt. "Trapper" John McIntyre) and Loretta Swit (Maj. Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan) and series executive producers Gene Reynolds and Burt Metcalfe. In these intimate, highly personal remembrances, the creation and evolution of the show’s iconic characters are revealed, alongside rare and never-before-seen behind-the-scenes footage, photos and stories.

Writer/producer Larry Gelbart, as well as additional series stars Larry Linville (Maj. Frank Burns), Harry Morgan (Col. Sherman T. Potter), McLean Stevenson (Lt. Col. Henry Blake) and David Ogden Stiers (Maj. Charles Emerson Winchester III) are remembered through a vibrant collection of clips from the series as well as in rarely-seen archival interviews. With unique experiences, observations and memories from 11 seasons of M*A*S*H, this special will make audiences laugh, touch their heartstrings, and leave them on a nostalgic high while celebrating the sustained brilliance of the iconic sitcom.

“M*A*S*H is not only a great television series, it is a cultural phenomenon. It has made multiple generations of viewers laugh, cry and think, often in the same episode,” said Executive Producers John Scheinfeld and Andy Kaplan. “We are excited to team with FOX to create this unprecedented window into an innovative television classic.”

"M*A*S*H is among the most iconic sitcoms in the annals of television history. It's a timeless show that comedically captures the 4077th medical corps and how they managed to maintain their sanity while saving lives on the front lines of the Korean War,” said Dan Harrison, EVP, Program Planning & Content Strategy, FOX Entertainment. “Larry Gelbart, Gene Reynolds and Burt Metcalfe brought this incredible comedy to life thanks to their ensemble cast led by the incomparable Alan Alda. FOX is proud to celebrate the landmark achievements of one of the best comedies ever created."

The M*A*S*H two-and-a-half-hour series finale that first aired on CBS in 1983 remains the highest rated telecast in television history, delivering an incredible 77 audience share and 60.2 rating. To-date, the show has never left the air, continuously running in syndication, on basic cable and now streaming on Hulu. The series was produced by 20th Television.

M*A*S*H: The Comedy That Changed Television is directed by John Scheinfeld (Reinventing Elvis: The ’68 Comeback, The U.S. vs. John Lennon and What The Hell Happened To Blood, Sweat & Tears?) with Scheinfeld and Andy Kaplan as Executive Producers.

Viewers can watch M*A*S*H: The Comedy That Changed Television next day on Hulu, Fox.com, On Demand and FOX Entertainment’s streaming platform, Tubi. On Demand is available for customers of Cox Contour TV, DIRECTV, DISH, fuboTV, Hulu + Live TV, Optimum, Spectrum, Verizon FiOS, XFINITY, YouTube TV and many more.

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

🎶jamie tartt🎶

🌹doo 🌹doo 🌹doo 🌹doo 🌹doo 🌹doo

Thank you my lovely friend! This is from the whump prompt fill for keep your eyes closed and takes place between 2.3 and 2.4.

Sam was unsure if it was the rain or an intentionally bad tackle, but the defender clipped Jamie’s feet from under him, the ball forgotten in his slide. Jamie rolled a few times before coming to rest on his side, clutching his knee with one hand in pain while his bicep pressed against his mouth in an attempt to keep from crying out. Sam had slid to Jamie’s side, rubbing his back as he motioned for the physios. Jamie vehemently opposed the suggestion of a stretcher, and instead, limped off the pitch supported by Sam and Isaac, the sharp intakes of breath at every step tearing through Sam’s soul.

Gently lowering his friend to a seat in the dugout, Sam ignored the voice in his head sounding suspiciously like Roy Kent that reminded him how differently he and Jamie reacted when the other might have been hurt.

In situations like this, Sam preferred to be a goldfish.

[slafkovskys]

i’m not sure if you have anything that plays with the grumpy x sunshine fort f thing but all i can picture is jamie not even being against his sister and mact (because i can’t picture jamie with a bad bone in his body) but rather he’s just worried about how different they are?

like mact is just this confident, kinda stoic man, and his sister is like sunshine (sometimes feisty sunshine) embodied and he’s just concerned

and then he sees them together and he’s like “oooh. maybe this will work.”

-🎪

jamie drysdale has had to see mason mctavish a lot that summer.

don’t get him wrong, mason was a friend. a teammate. he had a lot of respect for the guy and would never utter a bad word about him, but he often wondered why he had to choose his sister.

they wouldn’t tell him when they got together, but he knew it happened some point during the season because by the time they returned to canada for the summer, the two were inseparable. mason had pretty much taken up permanent residence at his parents house (seriously, the guy got mail there the other day) and now had his own mug in the cupboard. jamie wanted to ask if his own mother missed him, but he refrained.

he just doesn’t understand why-

he hears the heavy sound of the wooden gate slamming shut and he watches as- oh? he watches as a smile tugs at the corner of mason’s lips as his younger sister makes his way up the stairs. mason pushes his chair away from the table, eyes twinkling in the fairy lights as she enthusiastically waves her hands, “sorry i’m late. we got slammed right before i was supposed to leave, so i had to take an extra table.”

“not like we were waiting for the birthday girl to be here to blow out the candles on her cake or anything,” carly teases the girl who not-so-subtly flips up her middle finger at her blonde best friend.

she wraps her arms around mason, pushing herself up on her converse clad feet to press a quick kiss to his lips before tucking herself into his chest, “what did i miss?”

“nothing much. like carly said, couldn’t really start without you,” he teases gently. he presses a quick kiss to her temple when she turns to thank someone for coming, still wrapped tightly around his body, “have you eaten?”

“i had lunch and ray made me some cheese fries before i left,” she hums. ray, a cook at her summer waitressing job who was old enough to be her father, always made sure everyone ate no matter what. mason hadn’t been thrilled at the idea of her picking a shift on her birthday, but she insisted on how good her tips would be as she clipped the birthday girl ribbon to the tank top with the restaurant's logo plastered on the front. that tank top was hidden now, covered along with the bike shorts by a too big team canada hoodie that (based on the number on the arm) could only belong to one guy. she pokes at his chest, “plus, i was promised by both my brother and my boyfriend that i would have the cook out of my dreams.”

“food’s in the kitchen, princess gets first dibs,” jamie raises his drink to the girl, “happy birthday.”

“thank you, jay. seriously, but i want to sit down for like five minutes first. everyone else can go ahead, but you better save me a hamburger!” she calls as their friends trample in through the open patio door. she allows herself to be pulled down on mason’s lap with a sigh, “i lied, i don’t know if i can get up now. you’re comfy.”

“guess i’ll just have to carry you around for the rest of the night, hm?” mason’s tone is teasing as his fingers drum at her thigh.

“i definitely wouldn’t object to that.”

and that’s when it clicks for jamie, when it’s just the three of them out there and he’s a silent witness to their conversation. while she loved people and enjoyed being a light, mason just tolerated everyone except for her and it was obvious in his actions. how attentive he was, how he looked for her in every room, how he was always attached to her like a magnet.

they may be opposites, but they were made for each other.