Jamie Tartt X Reader - Tumblr Posts
The character development of Jamie Tartt will always impress me like he is so well written, the difference between s1 and s3 Jamie is so crazy
And Just Like That
summary: five times Jamie Tartt heard of Sasha Adair and the one time he met her
a/n: so i did give reader a name and the reason for this is because i am thinking of turning this into a whole ass series with the characters that are new and mentioned. the series will more or less be revolved around this one-shot. so please comment and give all the feedback/ideas and let me know if turning this into a series is a good idea. and fyi there is no description of sasha so imagine her however you want. thank you and enjoy reading!
warning(s): mature language and implied sexual themes and a +2.6k word count
1.
Jamie Tartt was seven the first time the name Sasha Adair graced his ears. He had just arrived at football training with the older kids, even though he was one of the younger lads on the team he was their star player. As they warmed up, he couldn’t help but overhear the coaches talking amongst themselves.
“I can’t believe Alec Adair is retiring, God never thought I’d see the day,” one coach replied to the other.
“I know, he’s pushing 40 too. It's about time he retired. I mean he's got a kid, Sasha I think the kid's name is. Apparently, that's why he's retiring in the first place. Wants the domestic life, news flash mate, it's not all it's cracked up to be,” the other coach said in disdain.
“Hey, it just means fewer wins for Richmond and hopefully more for Man City,” and at that, the two men started to crack up.
Later that day when Jamie went home, he snuck onto his mother's computer and looked up Alec Adair. Article upon article popped up, photos ranging from the start of Alec's career to the present day flooded said articles. One picture caught his attention more so than the others, Alec standing in the goalie's net with a little girl (Jamie guessed it was Alec's kid Sasha). Alec decked out in his Richmond kit, while his little girl sat on his shoulders decked out in a smaller version of said kit. It seemed the picture caught their mid-laugh and Jamie couldn't help but wonder what that was like, having a laugh with his father. Before Jamie could scroll through any more photos, he heard his mother coming up the stairs.
2.
Years passed and Jamie was eighteen the second time the name Sasha Adair was mentioned in his presence. Freshly turning the legal drinking age in England, he and a couple of his mates decided to hit the pubs. As Jamie threw back shot after shot, beer after beer, it took a toll on his bladder. Desperately needing to relieve himself, Jamie made his way to the back of the pub he currently occupied. He didn’t know if the liquor was getting to him or if he had heard it right, but the name Sasha Adair rang like a church bell in his ear. Stopping just short of the bathroom, he turned to his right. There just across the way from him was a rectangle lighting up with sound and color. Hypnotized by the rectangle, he moved closer to it. It seemed his eyes didn’t want to adjust but thankfully his ears worked just fine.
A woman's voice came out of the lite up box, “It seems Adair strikes again. It wasn’t too long ago that Alec Adair was making his debut as a Mighty Red. Seems only fitting now that Sasha Adair at just the age of sixteen is undergoing the same fate. What’d you say about that Marge?”
Another women’s voice sat in Jamie’s ears, “Alec Adair was an absolute menace out on the pitch. And if Sasha is anything like her father when it comes to football, we are in for a ride.”
A little dazed and confused, and still needing to pee, Jamie started to make his way to his desired destination. As he relived himself, he couldn’t help but replay what he had heard just moments before. He didn’t know what to think of it as he was either too drunk or too tired to care. Still, he scoffed slightly under his breath, nepotism was a real fucking bitch.
3.
Four years later and Jamie was twenty-two and if you asked his teammates, he was the most enormous prick around. That didn’t stop Keeley Jones from dating him and it sure as hell didn’t stop her from having sex with him either. It happened to be that they were at Jamie's house together when he heard the name Sasha Adair for the third time in his life. They had just finished doing the deed, Jamie was in the kitchen grabbing himself a glass of water and a small bite to eat while Keeley sat on the couch just having turned on the telly.
As what was years ago to Jamie a rectangle with lights and sound turned on, Keeley couldn’t help but let out a gasp, “My god”, she exclaimed. Jamie confused as to what Keeley was reacting to, turned around from the fridge to face the telly playing in the living room.
Up on the telly was the local news channel, Keeley having turned it up to get the full story.
“Breaking news just in, Earlier this afternoon Manchester United’s women's team player number 11, Sasha Adair was in a devastating collision. Let's go to Richard Tally, who is currently at the scene of the incident,” the screen changed to an older gentleman out in what looked like the countryside.
“Here out in the middle of Aberdeenshire, Scotland, at approximately one-forty-two this afternoon Sasha Adair crashed into this tree over to my right,” the camera spanned over to the news anchor's right side, and there it was. Said tree was broken, hanging on to its bottom half for dear life. And in front of that tree was broken glass, most of the scene having been cleared away. “According to Police Scotland, Adair was traveling at a speed of around 80 kilometers per hour. And my sources say that she wasn’t the only one in the automobile. We don’t know yet her condition, hopefully, she makes a speedy recovery soon. Back to you Beatrice.”
Jamie couldn’t believe it. Underneath that prick exterior, he felt bad for the poor lass. The crash looked quite severe and Jamie didn’t want to think about the pain she might be in. As a professional footballer himself, he knew an incident like that could be the end of one’s career.
Before he could think on it any further, Keeley interrupted, “That poor girl, I hope she's okay.” Jamie didn’t respond but deep down he wished she was too.
4.
Jamie had just been returned back to Manchester City when he heard Sasha Adair's name come up. Sitting in the locker room, Jamie was tying up his studs, with his fellow teammates when Sasha Adair came up.
“Oi, Tartt. Heard that Richmond got a new coach for the women's team. Alec Adair, right?” O’Gara asked. But before Jamie could answer Hitzemann butted in.
“He shoulda been the one to coach the men, leave Lasso to the girls,” chuckles could be heard around the locker room.
And just like that the Adair train started. Jamie knew as soon as it kicked off with Alec that it was just going to end with Sasha and of course, he was right.
“Wasn’t it just a couple of years ago that you were dating Sasha Adair, Brimblecom?” Jamie didn’t know who had asked the question as he tried to keep his head down and he really wished he didn’t have to hear the response either.
All eyes flew to Brimblecom, and slowly a cocky smile made its way onto his face, “I sure was, all up until she went fucking mental after the accident.”
It seemed none of the men regarded what was just said as jealous whispers could be heard all around ranging from, “The photos of her don’t do her justice” to “What I would do to tap that” and much more crude remarks. Jamie didn’t participate in said conversation, he was utterly disgusted by the men he called his teammates. If someone talked about Keeley the way they were talking about Sasha he’d go absolutely ballistic. Jamie may be a prick to men, but when it came to women and children he knew never to disrespect them. He just hoped that Sasha was doing alright and relieved that twat Brimblecom wasn’t in her life anymore.
5.
Returning to Richmond for the season after getting promoted back into the Premier League, Jamie did not expect to hear Sasha Adair's name. It had happened seconds after Jan Maas had gone on a tangent about statists and teams being promoted. What was really shocking was it was Sam who brought her up. Having just changed into his kit and going to his cubby, Sam picked up his phone only for a notification from a news outlet to pop up. Clinking on it, Sam thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.
“Guys, guys you’ll never guess what I just read”, Sam said with a beaming smile on his face, eyes shining.
“Bruv, please don’t tell me it's another article predicting us to finish last this season”, sighed Isaac.
“No, it’s about Sasha Adair,” At that the whole room quieted down, seeing Alec Adair in the same building was enough to get them starstruck. But Sasha Adair was a whole other kind of emotion for these men. Sam continued, “She's coming out of retirement”.
Whispers now collected in the locker room, none of the men believed what they were hearing. While Jamie stood by himself, wondering what the fuck was going on. These men were acting like they were in secondary school, gossiping about a girl. He didn’t think it could get any worse until it did.
Sam wasn’t done talking, “Wait there's more,” Once again it was silent as Sam scrolled through the article. The men were on the edge of their seats, not thinking it could get better from here. At this point Sam was reading through the article at lightning speed, “It says here that she's going to be playing for A.F.C. Richmond”.
At that chaos followed. Will the kit man had to sit down in fear of fainting. Colin and Isaac were giggling like a bunch of school girls. Dani started speaking to himself in Spanish. Zoreaux at a loss for words hoping he doesn’t make a fool out of himself the way he did with Alec Adair. And Richard singing her high praises. The other players having their own mixed reactions. Jamie in particular.
Over the years he had heard her name from multiple sources, both the good and the bad. And now with her about to be in the same building as him, training on the same pitch as him, he was astonished. But he didn’t have time to think about it as he had to get ready to get on the pitch and still had yet to change into his kit.
1.
It had been about a week since the news of Sasha Adair and her coming back out of retirement, playing for Richmond. And so far there has been no sighting of her at Nelson Road. The guys had been trying to see if they could catch a glimpse of her and to no avail they had no luck. All but one of them, all but Jamie Tartt.
He hadn’t been trying to scout her out, he wasn’t like his teammates in that department. He swears it had just been a chance encounter. It had been weight training day for the men's side of Richmond and Jamie was beyond annoyed. It first started off with him getting barely any sleep due to Roy and his 4 am training schedule. Next, it was the fact that it was weight training day and Bumbercatch almost dropped a dumbbell on Jamies star winning foot. But the icing on top of the already shit cake was Jamie's headband broke, snapped right as he bend down to grab his water bottle.
Releasing a sigh, he grabbed his water bottle and exited the weight training area, hoping and praying he had an extra headband in his cubical. Ravaging through his duffle bag, jacket, and all the places he could think where it might be, he came up empty-handed. There was nobody else on the team that wore headbands, most of the guys had short hair, minus Dani but still he tied his up. Usually, at a time like this, he would ask someone from the women's team of Richmond. It wouldn’t be a bad idea until he realized, he couldn’t just go out onto the middle of the pitch and interrupt their practice for a goddamn headband.
Just as he thought he would have to deal with his hair being in his eyes for the remainder of the day, a woman walked past the locker room. Thinking maybe she had a headband, he couldn’t help to all but sprint out into the hallway and stop that girl.
He called out a couple of times to her, “Excuse me, miss”. There was no response. “Miss! Miss!”. She didn’t even turn around it was almost as if she didn’t hear him or was downright ignoring him. Fed up with calling and not being acknowledged, he ran up to her and tapped her on the shoulder to which she took out an earbud and finally turned around.
The moment she faced him, was the moment that Jamie Tartt forgot why he even bothered her in the first place. He had never seen a woman more beautiful than the one standing before him, from her hair to her lips to her eyes staring into his own. Fuck he could get lost in those eyes forever. And it seemed he almost did just that but thankful he was able to come back to reality in time to hear her voice.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her breath light and airy. One eyebrow was crooked, curious as to what this man could possibly want.
“Yea, um sorry to bother you. But I was just wondering if you had a headband I could borrow. You see mine broke and usually I have a spare, but dumb meh forgot it at home. And I’d ask one of the guys, though they all mostly have short hair and I just don’t like meh hair getting in meh eyes is all,” at this point Jamie was rambling, it had been a while since he talked to a girl that wasn’t either his mother or Keeley.
Before he could continue on, the woman in front of him seemed to pull something out of her A.F.C. Richmond jacket. Lo and behold, Jamie couldn’t believe his luck, there it was a headband the same color as Richmond’s home kit. “Here, seems like you need this more than I do,” she put the headband in Jamie's hand.
For a second Jamie had lost sense of reality again, with her skin touching his he didn’t know how to think. “Th-thank you, I appreciate it yea”, he started to fiddle around with the headband.
A small smirk overtook her face, “Don’t mention it and actually keep it, I won’t be needing it any time soon”. There was a moment of silence between them before she broke it, “Anyways, I have to get on the pitch or Coach is literally going to skin me alive. But hope the headband helps keep the hair out of your eyes. It was lovely chatting”.
With that, she turned around and was just about to start walking to the weight training room which had a door that lead out onto the pitch when Jamie realized he had no clue who she was. “Wait, I never got your name”, he said to her back.
She turned her head to look at him, ear bud just about to enter her ear again, only to put Jamie in an even bigger state of shock. “Sasha. Sasha Adair”. Just like that, she walked off, leaving Jamie flabbergasted and dumbstruck. He couldn’t believe he had just met the women he had grown up hearing about from coaches, pubs, the telly, his teammates.
And as he looked down at his hands, to the headband she had given him. He couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe today wasn’t so poopeh after all.
And Just Like That
summary: five times Jamie Tartt heard of Sasha Adair and the one time he met her
a/n: so i did give reader a name and the reason for this is because i am thinking of turning this into a whole ass series with the characters that are new and mentioned. the series will more or less be revolved around this one-shot. so please comment and give all the feedback/ideas and let me know if turning this into a series is a good idea. and fyi there is no description of sasha so imagine her however you want. thank you and enjoy reading!
warning(s): mature language and implied sexual themes and a +2.6k word count
1.
Jamie Tartt was seven the first time the name Sasha Adair graced his ears. He had just arrived at football training with the older kids, even though he was one of the younger lads on the team he was their star player. As they warmed up, he couldn’t help but overhear the coaches talking amongst themselves.
“I can’t believe Alec Adair is retiring, God never thought I’d see the day,” one coach replied to the other.
“I know, he’s pushing 40 too. It's about time he retired. I mean he's got a kid, Sasha I think the kid's name is. Apparently, that's why he's retiring in the first place. Wants the domestic life, news flash mate, it's not all it's cracked up to be,” the other coach said in disdain.
“Hey, it just means fewer wins for Richmond and hopefully more for Man City,” and at that, the two men started to crack up.
Later that day when Jamie went home, he snuck onto his mother's computer and looked up Alec Adair. Article upon article popped up, photos ranging from the start of Alec's career to the present day flooded said articles. One picture caught his attention more so than the others, Alec standing in the goalie's net with a little girl (Jamie guessed it was Alec's kid Sasha). Alec decked out in his Richmond kit, while his little girl sat on his shoulders decked out in a smaller version of said kit. It seemed the picture caught their mid-laugh and Jamie couldn't help but wonder what that was like, having a laugh with his father. Before Jamie could scroll through any more photos, he heard his mother coming up the stairs.
2.
Years passed and Jamie was eighteen the second time the name Sasha Adair was mentioned in his presence. Freshly turning the legal drinking age in England, he and a couple of his mates decided to hit the pubs. As Jamie threw back shot after shot, beer after beer, it took a toll on his bladder. Desperately needing to relieve himself, Jamie made his way to the back of the pub he currently occupied. He didn’t know if the liquor was getting to him or if he had heard it right, but the name Sasha Adair rang like a church bell in his ear. Stopping just short of the bathroom, he turned to his right. There just across the way from him was a rectangle lighting up with sound and color. Hypnotized by the rectangle, he moved closer to it. It seemed his eyes didn’t want to adjust but thankfully his ears worked just fine.
A woman's voice came out of the lite up box, “It seems Adair strikes again. It wasn’t too long ago that Alec Adair was making his debut as a Mighty Red. Seems only fitting now that Sasha Adair at just the age of sixteen is undergoing the same fate. What’d you say about that Marge?”
Another women’s voice sat in Jamie’s ears, “Alec Adair was an absolute menace out on the pitch. And if Sasha is anything like her father when it comes to football, we are in for a ride.”
A little dazed and confused, and still needing to pee, Jamie started to make his way to his desired destination. As he relived himself, he couldn’t help but replay what he had heard just moments before. He didn’t know what to think of it as he was either too drunk or too tired to care. Still, he scoffed slightly under his breath, nepotism was a real fucking bitch.
3.
Four years later and Jamie was twenty-two and if you asked his teammates, he was the most enormous prick around. That didn’t stop Keeley Jones from dating him and it sure as hell didn’t stop her from having sex with him either. It happened to be that they were at Jamie's house together when he heard the name Sasha Adair for the third time in his life. They had just finished doing the deed, Jamie was in the kitchen grabbing himself a glass of water and a small bite to eat while Keeley sat on the couch just having turned on the telly.
As what was years ago to Jamie a rectangle with lights and sound turned on, Keeley couldn’t help but let out a gasp, “My god”, she exclaimed. Jamie confused as to what Keeley was reacting to, turned around from the fridge to face the telly playing in the living room.
Up on the telly was the local news channel, Keeley having turned it up to get the full story.
“Breaking news just in, Earlier this afternoon Manchester United’s women's team player number 11, Sasha Adair was in a devastating collision. Let's go to Richard Tally, who is currently at the scene of the incident,” the screen changed to an older gentleman out in what looked like the countryside.
“Here out in the middle of Aberdeenshire, Scotland, at approximately one-forty-two this afternoon Sasha Adair crashed into this tree over to my right,” the camera spanned over to the news anchor's right side, and there it was. Said tree was broken, hanging on to its bottom half for dear life. And in front of that tree was broken glass, most of the scene having been cleared away. “According to Police Scotland, Adair was traveling at a speed of around 80 kilometers per hour. And my sources say that she wasn’t the only one in the automobile. We don’t know yet her condition, hopefully, she makes a speedy recovery soon. Back to you Beatrice.”
Jamie couldn’t believe it. Underneath that prick exterior, he felt bad for the poor lass. The crash looked quite severe and Jamie didn’t want to think about the pain she might be in. As a professional footballer himself, he knew an incident like that could be the end of one’s career.
Before he could think on it any further, Keeley interrupted, “That poor girl, I hope she's okay.” Jamie didn’t respond but deep down he wished she was too.
4.
Jamie had just been returned back to Manchester City when he heard Sasha Adair's name come up. Sitting in the locker room, Jamie was tying up his studs, with his fellow teammates when Sasha Adair came up.
“Oi, Tartt. Heard that Richmond got a new coach for the women's team. Alec Adair, right?” O’Gara asked. But before Jamie could answer Hitzemann butted in.
“He shoulda been the one to coach the men, leave Lasso to the girls,” chuckles could be heard around the locker room.
And just like that the Adair train started. Jamie knew as soon as it kicked off with Alec that it was just going to end with Sasha and of course, he was right.
“Wasn’t it just a couple of years ago that you were dating Sasha Adair, Brimblecom?” Jamie didn’t know who had asked the question as he tried to keep his head down and he really wished he didn’t have to hear the response either.
All eyes flew to Brimblecom, and slowly a cocky smile made its way onto his face, “I sure was, all up until she went fucking mental after the accident.”
It seemed none of the men regarded what was just said as jealous whispers could be heard all around ranging from, “The photos of her don’t do her justice” to “What I would do to tap that” and much more crude remarks. Jamie didn’t participate in said conversation, he was utterly disgusted by the men he called his teammates. If someone talked about Keeley the way they were talking about Sasha he’d go absolutely ballistic. Jamie may be a prick to men, but when it came to women and children he knew never to disrespect them. He just hoped that Sasha was doing alright and relieved that twat Brimblecom wasn’t in her life anymore.
5.
Returning to Richmond for the season after getting promoted back into the Premier League, Jamie did not expect to hear Sasha Adair's name. It had happened seconds after Jan Maas had gone on a tangent about statists and teams being promoted. What was really shocking was it was Sam who brought her up. Having just changed into his kit and going to his cubby, Sam picked up his phone only for a notification from a news outlet to pop up. Clinking on it, Sam thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.
“Guys, guys you’ll never guess what I just read”, Sam said with a beaming smile on his face, eyes shining.
“Bruv, please don’t tell me it's another article predicting us to finish last this season”, sighed Isaac.
“No, it’s about Sasha Adair,” At that the whole room quieted down, seeing Alec Adair in the same building was enough to get them starstruck. But Sasha Adair was a whole other kind of emotion for these men. Sam continued, “She's coming out of retirement”.
Whispers now collected in the locker room, none of the men believed what they were hearing. While Jamie stood by himself, wondering what the fuck was going on. These men were acting like they were in secondary school, gossiping about a girl. He didn’t think it could get any worse until it did.
Sam wasn’t done talking, “Wait there's more,” Once again it was silent as Sam scrolled through the article. The men were on the edge of their seats, not thinking it could get better from here. At this point Sam was reading through the article at lightning speed, “It says here that she's going to be playing for A.F.C. Richmond”.
At that chaos followed. Will the kit man had to sit down in fear of fainting. Colin and Isaac were giggling like a bunch of school girls. Dani started speaking to himself in Spanish. Zoreaux at a loss for words hoping he doesn’t make a fool out of himself the way he did with Alec Adair. And Richard singing her high praises. The other players having their own mixed reactions. Jamie in particular.
Over the years he had heard her name from multiple sources, both the good and the bad. And now with her about to be in the same building as him, training on the same pitch as him, he was astonished. But he didn’t have time to think about it as he had to get ready to get on the pitch and still had yet to change into his kit.
1.
It had been about a week since the news of Sasha Adair and her coming back out of retirement, playing for Richmond. And so far there has been no sighting of her at Nelson Road. The guys had been trying to see if they could catch a glimpse of her and to no avail they had no luck. All but one of them, all but Jamie Tartt.
He hadn’t been trying to scout her out, he wasn’t like his teammates in that department. He swears it had just been a chance encounter. It had been weight training day for the men's side of Richmond and Jamie was beyond annoyed. It first started off with him getting barely any sleep due to Roy and his 4 am training schedule. Next, it was the fact that it was weight training day and Bumbercatch almost dropped a dumbbell on Jamies star winning foot. But the icing on top of the already shit cake was Jamie's headband broke, snapped right as he bend down to grab his water bottle.
Releasing a sigh, he grabbed his water bottle and exited the weight training area, hoping and praying he had an extra headband in his cubical. Ravaging through his duffle bag, jacket, and all the places he could think where it might be, he came up empty-handed. There was nobody else on the team that wore headbands, most of the guys had short hair, minus Dani but still he tied his up. Usually, at a time like this, he would ask someone from the women's team of Richmond. It wouldn’t be a bad idea until he realized, he couldn’t just go out onto the middle of the pitch and interrupt their practice for a goddamn headband.
Just as he thought he would have to deal with his hair being in his eyes for the remainder of the day, a woman walked past the locker room. Thinking maybe she had a headband, he couldn’t help to all but sprint out into the hallway and stop that girl.
He called out a couple of times to her, “Excuse me, miss”. There was no response. “Miss! Miss!”. She didn’t even turn around it was almost as if she didn’t hear him or was downright ignoring him. Fed up with calling and not being acknowledged, he ran up to her and tapped her on the shoulder to which she took out an earbud and finally turned around.
The moment she faced him, was the moment that Jamie Tartt forgot why he even bothered her in the first place. He had never seen a woman more beautiful than the one standing before him, from her hair to her lips to her eyes staring into his own. Fuck he could get lost in those eyes forever. And it seemed he almost did just that but thankful he was able to come back to reality in time to hear her voice.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her breath light and airy. One eyebrow was crooked, curious as to what this man could possibly want.
“Yea, um sorry to bother you. But I was just wondering if you had a headband I could borrow. You see mine broke and usually I have a spare, but dumb meh forgot it at home. And I’d ask one of the guys, though they all mostly have short hair and I just don’t like meh hair getting in meh eyes is all,” at this point Jamie was rambling, it had been a while since he talked to a girl that wasn’t either his mother or Keeley.
Before he could continue on, the woman in front of him seemed to pull something out of her A.F.C. Richmond jacket. Lo and behold, Jamie couldn’t believe his luck, there it was a headband the same color as Richmond’s home kit. “Here, seems like you need this more than I do,” she put the headband in Jamie's hand.
For a second Jamie had lost sense of reality again, with her skin touching his he didn’t know how to think. “Th-thank you, I appreciate it yea”, he started to fiddle around with the headband.
A small smirk overtook her face, “Don’t mention it and actually keep it, I won’t be needing it any time soon”. There was a moment of silence between them before she broke it, “Anyways, I have to get on the pitch or Coach is literally going to skin me alive. But hope the headband helps keep the hair out of your eyes. It was lovely chatting”.
With that, she turned around and was just about to start walking to the weight training room which had a door that lead out onto the pitch when Jamie realized he had no clue who she was. “Wait, I never got your name”, he said to her back.
She turned her head to look at him, ear bud just about to enter her ear again, only to put Jamie in an even bigger state of shock. “Sasha. Sasha Adair”. Just like that, she walked off, leaving Jamie flabbergasted and dumbstruck. He couldn’t believe he had just met the women he had grown up hearing about from coaches, pubs, the telly, his teammates.
And as he looked down at his hands, to the headband she had given him. He couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe today wasn’t so poopeh after all.
There’s like no new Ted Lasso series fics and I’m starting to get real sad ☹️
I BEG OF YOU, ANYONE, PLEASE WRITE SOME FICS FOR TED LASSO 😭😭😭
Hey! I know you write for footballers but would you write for the players in ted lasso? Like Jamie Tartt? I love your work!
I'm obsessed with Ted Lasso so yes I'd write for any of the boys, especially Jamie as that man is the loml <3
I have been looking for this fic for months. This has to be one of my favorite Jamie fics on here!!!
hi i love your work.
can i get touch deprived reader with jamie or roy
you totally can! It just comes at the low, low cost of way more words than you bargained for. Fair warning, Jamie isn’t even introduced for a good solid chunk of the first half. I also have been touch deprived so this is based on personal experience lol.
I feel like I let this get away from me in the same way the Vienna fic got away from me😂
sinking into your worn out mattress
It’s the same routine every day.
Wake up, get dressed, go to work, come home, make dinner, fall asleep, repeat.
It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. You’re nothing if not efficient, maximizing your time to the best of your abilities. It’s not the most glamorous thing in the world, but you enjoy it. You’re lucky enough to be working on your supervision hours under a renowned psychologist, Dr. Fieldstone in London, and it’s paid. Over half the people in your cohort are struggling through unpaid internships and juggling a second job just so they can make ends meet. You’re all propelled forward by the promise of better pay as soon as it’s all over, dreaming of the days you can own your own practice.
You’re not even sure how you landed this internship, as Dr. Fieldstone rarely ever takes on interns. (She’d tell you later it’s because she saw the same potential her supervisor saw in her.) But you have it, and you’re now assisting her in her on-location therapy to various sports teams. You’d been at a rugby club for a few months, but now it’s time to move on. Dr. Fieldstone was asked to come back to a previous club and although she’d never admit it, you know it was her favorite group to work with. It’s the only club who’s picture is on her desk. It makes you smile every time you see her surrounded by a rowdy-looking group of footballers and two very American coaches. She had said that the one with the mustache was no longer at the club, but the bearded one still was along with the angry looking man to the side and the short, grey-haired man.
You’ve seen the photo so many times that you have everyone’s faces memorized. You’re secretly excited to meet the team that made Dr. Sharon (in her colleagues’ words,) loosen up.
You weren’t friends, with Dr. Sharon, never once dropping the “doctor,” that preceded her name, but she would occasionally swing by your standard housing with a bottle of wine after a particularly difficult day.
“This job can be emotionally draining,” she’d say. “I always wished I had someone there for me at the beginning.”
She rarely smiled or showed outward affection, but you understood that this was her way of saying she cared.
But now you’re packing up your flat into your car, and headed to your new quarters in Richmond, London.
—
It’s apparent that Dr. Sharon has a strong connection with the players. There are a small few who allow you to run each session, most preferring to stick with who they know. Your days are mostly filled with analyses and treatment plans, with about two real session a week, one with Rojas, D and Maas, J. You don’t even sit in with Dr. Sharon much anymore, as the thought of an observer makes some of the players uncomfortable.
It’s stressing you out.
How are you supposed to fulfill your hours when you can’t even get consistent sessions?
Dr. Sharon, in her limited kindness, refers you to a friend of hers in town.
“She runs a small practice and works mostly with women. You’ll be able to keep your housing and fulfill your hours. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
You look at her. “Right,” you reply, “because you’re going to have so much time to help me out between all the things you’ve got going on.”
She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Listen. Since you’re not my intern, I can become your therapist. I’ll even give you a discounted rate since you’re still interning. We’ll set up weekly sessions. You’ll be fine.”
You’re still not sure. Dr. Sharon can see the apprehension in your face. “Alright,” she says. “If you schedule our sessions in the evening and cook dinner, I’ll do it for free. It’ll be informal, one therapist to another.”
That’s big. She rarely does anything for free. In a moment of boldness, you say that to her face.
She cracks the tiniest smile. “It’s possible that I’ve grown fond of you. And even more possible that I’m addicted to your cooking.”
Huh. You suppose miracles do still happen.
—
Sharon is over for dinner for the third time in a week, and you’re suspicious that she might actually enjoy spending time with you. You’re laughing about some stupid story that happened during a natural environment observation (it involved a slip n slide, an obscene amount of shaving cream, and footballs being thrown at players heads) when out of nowhere you feel tears slipping down your face.
“Oh my gosh” you say while maybe laughing, maybe crying, “I think I’m broken.”
Sharon (she insisted you drop the “doctor,”) asks, “Are you alright?” and you shrug while you begin full-on sobbing.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” you say between gasps. “What the actual heck.”
At that, Sharon grins. You’re retaining some element of your humor, despite actually crying.
“Just go on and fucking swear already,” she says. “I think we’re past a truly professional relationship.”
You shake your head. “No!” you say. “No, my mum wouldn’t like it.” Fresh tears start to fall at the mention of your mum. Sharon is actually concerned now.
“I’m not sure you’re alright,” she says, and you shoot her a no duh look. “Let’s discuss what might be the root of your issue. Have you been feeling differently lately?”
You’re wiping your eyes and trying so hard to get it together. You’re not even sure what your problem is. You were pretty sure you were doing fine, but you think back to your week. It had been pretty standard, nothing out of the ordinary. You shake your head.
“There is nothing too small to mention. Anything out of your usual routine? Physical discomfort, emotionally-draining sessions?” Sharon asks.
“No,” you reply, tears almost under control. “Wait. Yes.”
Sharon looks at you expectantly. “God, this is going to sound dumb.”
She reaches out to pat your hand. “There’s no such thing as too dumb,” she says in her therapist voice.
The gesture is so much like something a sister would do.
“Right,” you say. “Ok. My, um, the insides of my elbows like, hurt? They just feel weird, I don’t know. It started two weeks ago I think and usually I can just pinch them and it’s fine, but that’s the only thing I can think of, I guess.”
Sharon has gone full therapist, and is giving you an analytical look. “Hm,” she says. “Tell me more.”
You shrug. “There’s not much to tell. It’s not like painful, it just feels weird. I hug my pillow when I sleep and that also helps. Um, I push up my sleeves so they go around my elbows and the pressure helps.”
She asks, “When was the last time you saw a friend?” and you can’t think why this is relevant. But you also can’t remember.
“Probably since before I moved,” you say.
“And when was the last time you saw your family?”
You begin to see where she’s going.
“God,” you groan. “I’m an idiot.”
Sharon laughs. “Do you see why it’s so difficult for therapists to self-diagnose? We’re so busy trying to save the world that we forget to save ourselves.”
“But it’s so stupid,” you say. “It’s like, one of the most basic forms of self-care.”
Sharon shrugs. “Touch-starvation is a real thing. It manifests itself in different ways and apparently yours manifests itself in your elbows.”
It’s so ridiculous that you laugh. She does too, and reaches out to squeeze your arm. “I’ll be more mindful of it,” she says. “In the meantime, you need to find yourself some friends. Some people your own age. I’m prescribing you at least two nights out a week.”
You knit your eyebrows together. “I don’t even know where I would go. Or how to meet people. Or what to say!”
“That’s the problem with us therapists,” Sharon says. “We’re really best in a clinical setting. Shouldn’t be let out of the house, really. How about this; next time Richmond has some group event, you come. They’re a rowdy bunch, around your age, too. It’s an incredibly healthy environment, and you’ll be easily accepted. It will be a nice gateway to having a social life. There’s a match this weekend and they’re almost guaranteed a win, so keep your calendar open.”
You open your mouth to protest but Sharon holds up a hand. “I’m prescribing this as your mentor, not as your friend. It will be a healthy change of pace, I promise.”
—
Seeing AFC Richmond in person and off the pitch is like an out-of-body experience.
You’re putting names to familiar faces, and getting a crash course on their personalities.
You know Dani and Jan Maas from your short stint as their counselor, and they’ve taken it upon themselves to introduce you to everyone else. Dani is holding your elbow to guide you around to all sorts of people, and you can physically feel the serotonin production in your brain.
You meet Higgins and his wife, the hosts of this barbecue as well as some of their children. It’s hard to miss them because they keep coming up to shoot Dani and Jan with nerf guns. They’re weirdly prepared, pulling out their own from thin air.
“Don’t worry,” Jan says, “We’ll defend you.”
It’s very much like a large family gathering. You meet Richard, who kisses your hand and comments on your beauty. Zoreaux, who smiles and asks if you want anything to drink. Bumbercatch, who asks if you can read minds. And finally, Roy and Keeley who are standing in the kitchen and definitely were not kissing right before you walked in.
“This is one of our coaches,” Dani beams. “He and Keeley are very much in love, but they will not admit to each other, least of all themselves.”
Roy says, “Oi!” while Keeley blushes. Jan shrugs.
“It’s true,” he says. “There is no point in dancing around it.”
“Fuck off!” says Roy, and Jan and Dani are saved from certain death by head-butt as Keeley steps between them and says, “It’s nice to meet you! We’re so glad you could come,” and wraps you in a tight hug.
She’s small, but she’s strong. You have trouble breathing for a moment in the best possible way.
“Heard you work for Dr. Sharon,” she says. “That’s got to be fucking difficult.”
You laugh. “Yeah, but not in the way you’d think,” you say. “I’d already sold my soul to my education long before I met her. She’s actually trying to help me get it back.”
Keeley grins. “Is that why you’re here then? To reinstate your soul?”
You’re cut off from replying by the appearance of someone new. This one is in Sharon’s picture too, standing in the middle slightly to the left and smiling with the tip of his tongue sticking out. You always thought he seemed like one who looked so happy and carefree because he actively chose to be that way.
“Who’s reinstatin’ their soul?” he asks, squeezing in between Dani and Keeley.
“This one here,” Keeley replies. “You met her yet? She’s Dr. Fieldstone’s protégé.”
“Oh,” you say. “No. Not really. I was just doing my internship with her, but I had to move because…” you hesitate.
“Because no one wanted to talk to her except me and Jan,” Dani helpfully fills in.
Jan adds, “They were all intimidated by the fact that she is close to their age and so beautiful, as well stuck in their ways of having Dr. Sharon. Only Dani and I were willing to give her a chance, and she actually helped me through some important life decisions.”
You had? It hadn’t seemed that way at the time. You feel less crappy about your time at Nelson Road, though. It wasn’t like they didn’t like you, they just preferred to stick with what they know. That, you can understand.
“Mint,” Jamie says. “So you ain’t the team’s shrink anymore?”
Roy rolls his eyes. “Fucking observant, you are. She hasn’t been around in fucking ages.”
Jamie shrugs. “I was just checking!” he says defensively.
You smile. “It’s alright,” you say. “I’m sure you’re busy, and there’s always a lot of people coming and going.”
That seems to surprise Jamie. Almost as if he isn’t used to people defending him. You file his reaction away in your brain, adding it to your collection of knowledge about the football team that made Sharon zip across England for.
—
It’s been two and a half hours, and you’ve have more food and laughter than you’ve had in ages. Dani and Jan Maas had left your circle in the kitchen a while ago, fulfilling their promise to chase around the youngest Higgins boys as well as Roy’s niece Phoebe, and another girl who’s name you didn’t catch. Sam has joined your group now, and he and Jamie are funny together in a way that reminds you of your brothers. They’re constantly ragging on each other, teasing Roy, and throwing things.
Jamie, it seems, is the comedian of the group. You can tell he’s showing off, presumably because there’s a new face. When it’s time to eat, he says, “Stick with me, love, that way you don’t get stuck next to some uncultured animal,” even though Sharon is there and you’d be fine to sit with any of the boys.
But, he’s already grabbed your hand and is pulling you to a spot near Roy and Keeley as Sharon looks on with an amused expression. You send her a single pleading glance (although you’re not sure what you’re pleading for) and she just gives you a shooing motion. She’s happy to sit with Rebecca and her boyfriend. And someone who’s name you’re pretty sure is Coach Beard.
Ever the gentleman, Jamie pulls out your chair for you before settling into his own. There are tables all throughout the house and a few in the front yard, and you’re glad he picked one outside. It’s a little cloudy, but nice weather.
And god, there are people. People who are talking to you, hugging you, tapping you on the arm and holding your hand, even if it is just to make sure you don’t get separated in the stampede to find seating. Your arms aren’t even a little sore, and you can feel Sharon’s observing eyes on you. You know for a fact she’s going to have a lot to say next time you have dinner, but for now all you can think about is the way Jamie’s arm is pressed against yours, as he leans in to explain a football term that Roy just used to threaten Jamie with.
—
You’re not sure how long this party is supposed to last, but it’s three hours later and there is no sign of stopping. The sun is just barely starting to dip, and time has lost all meaning. You don’t know if the meal you ate was supposed to be lunch or dinner but it doesn’t matter because you’re so full that you can barely make room for the pile of desserts that Mrs. Higgins has pulled out.
You’ve moved inside now, since Jamie pulled you through the dessert line saying, “You have to come with me, so I can put my dessert on your plate. That way grandad can’t have a fit.” You understand that “grandad” is Roy.
You’re smart enough to notice that Jamie’s hand is in yours at every opportunity he can find, and that he’s still holding it even though you’ve finished your dessert and are flopped on a couch inside. He’s absentmindedly rubbing circles with his thumb as you chatter on about nothing.
“Oi,” he says, when you’ve lapsed into silence, “is this alright?”
You’re not sure what he means until he holds up your still-intertwined hands.
“Keeley says I’m more touchy than most. Don’t want to fuckin’ weird you out or some shit.”
You smile. “You’re fine. It’s actually really nice.” You decide to leave it at that. No point in explaining touch-deprivation to the cute footballer you just met. Talk about oversharing.
Jamie smiles back, a real one that lights up his whole face.
“Mint,” he says.
—
“Jamie’s romantically interested in you,” says Sharon’s voice through the phone.
“How do you know that?” you ask. It’s the morning after the Higgins party and you only have a 2pm session. Sharon texted you to call her as soon as you woke up, so you do and she drops a bombshell on the first ring. You doubt Jamie would have told her this himself, as Dr. Fieldstone isn’t one to break a confidence.
“Basic body language,” she replies. “Repeated physical contact, the way his body was angled toward yours all day, the fact that he went out of his way to make you smile. All classic markers of romantic attraction. Any trained therapist should be able to pick up on it.”
What she means is, you’re a trained therapist. You should be picking up on it.
“There’s no way,” you say, but it comes out more doubtful than you’d hoped.
“Right,” says Sharon, “there’s no way. In the same way that there’s no way I’m only mentoring you because I see myself in you.”
“Oh,” you reply weakly, because that’s a lot to unpack.
“Oh,” she mimics. “Right. Well. I’ve got to go. Make sure you remember the mental exercises I gave you. Therapists need to take care of their minds too.”
You say thanks and hang up.
Oh.
—
You’re home again from your session, and you are tired. It was mentally exhausting and all you can think about are the pair of sweatpants in the drawer by your bed and the box of pizza that should be at your flat in fifteen-to-twenty minutes. That was about thirteen minutes ago, and you’ve just been puttering about since placing the call and changing out of work clothes.
There’s a knock on the door and you say a quiet yes, before hurrying to answer. You open the door to two people on your doorstep instead of one.
“This your pizza?” the delivery boy asks. You nod, thank him, and hand him the money. He’s gone so you acknowledge the other person in front of you.
“How’d you know where I live?”
Jamie shrugs. “Asked Dr. Fieldstone. She isn’t as scary as she looks.”
“And why are you here?”
You place the pizza down on the small table in your entryway. It hasn’t escaped your notice that Jamie is practically standing in your doorframe now, inches away from you.
He wraps his hands in the front of his shirt. “Isaac was telling me about body science,” he says. “Been teaching me how to read people and shit based on how they move.”
You nod. Body language. Yeah, you know a thing or two about that.
“Anyway, he said you thought I was proper fit. Which is good, because I think you’re proper fit. But, just in case he were wrong, I thought I’d come over and give you a chance to tell me.”
His left hand is on the doorframe now, and you can see the top of his tattoo peeking out from under his bright orange hoodie. There is exactly one inch between you two as he slants his body toward yours.
“You can tell me to bugger off, if you want,” he murmurs. “Won’t hurt my feelings.”
You don’t say anything, just stand on your toes the tiniest bit so he has better access to your mouth.
You can feel his breath when he pulls away.
“Oh,” he says, “I didn’t come here for sex. Me mum raised a gentleman. I’d buy you a coupla dinners first.”
“Shut up and kiss me already, Tartt,” you say, and he’s grinning, free hand cupping the back of your head.
—
You think that’s probably the fastest you’ve ever gotten into a relationship.
“Labels are important, babe,” Jamie had said that night. “How else will you know if food is poisonous?”
You’re pretty sure he’s talking about checking for allergens, but you don’t correct him. You’re on your couch watching a movie with his arm around your shoulders. He’s playing with strands of your hair and it’s strange that you’re this comfortable with a boy you just met yesterday.
Because he is a boy. You’re the same age, but you feel impossibly, inadequately young. He plays it off as youthful exuberance, and you’re sure it’s an advantage on the pitch. Your age doesn’t feel like an advantage to you, but you can’t change it so you might as well just deal with what you’ve got.
You can be professional in the morning, but right now you’ve got a cute, fit boy who thinks you’re cute and fit and so far has not given off red flags. You’re extra alert ever since your call with Sharon, trying to pick up on every subtlety, but you stop trying as soon as Jamie rolls up a piece of pizza like a burrito and tries to fit it all in his mouth. You know that Sharon would have been the first to tell you if this was a bad idea, and the fact that she even told you Jamie was interested is basically like her giving her blessing.
Jamie leaves too soon, but he does so with your number in his phone and the promise of “a proper date,” as soon as you both can manage.
—
“A proper date,” turned into two proper dates, then three, then four, then seeing each other steadily throughout the weeks, then your first sleepover after the third week. Your skin was all tingly when Jamie invited you over to his for dinner, telling you he was going to cook for you. You knew exactly what was going to happen that night and made sure you were prepared.
You dressed nice, in clothes that gave him easy access to your skin underneath.
“Am I rushing this?” you had asked Sharon the day before. “I’m asking you as my mentor. Am I being an idiot?”
Sharon had taken a moment to consider before answering. “You’re smart for your age. And wise beyond your years. I don’t think you’re being an idiot. We can’t let our work consume us, no matter how important it is. You’re a brilliant therapist. You’re always giving yourself away to those around you. You deserve something for yourself, and you know how to pick a good one.”
You hugged her for those words. She seemed startled, but accepted it. You didn’t think life could get much better.
You were wrong. You discovered life could be so much better the moment Jamie’s hand slid under your skirt and you were kicking off your shoes on the way up the stairs.
“Stay,” he whispered when you were done. “It’s fuckin’ late anyway. You can use my shower and wear one of my shirts. I have an extra toothbrush. I fucking hate sleeping alone.”
So you’re in one of his t-shirts and your underwear, arms wrapped around Jamie’s waist.
You think what am I doing? but Jamie presses a soft, sleepy kiss to your temple and you think maybe you’re doing something right.
—
It’s been a hell of a week. You’re swamped, Jamie’s always at training, and neither of you have been able to make the time to see the other in days. Your inner arms are sore again, and your dinners with Sharon have been short and extremely clinical in a way you desperately need. However, once-a-week therapy is not enough to get rid of the feeling you have, and you wake up throughout the night holding your pillow as if it were Jamie.
You’ve gotten used to having his hand in yours, your head on his shoulder, knees touching and arms wrapped tight around your body. Having it taken away is worse than before, because at least then you didn’t really know what you were missing. Now, you feel as if you’re going to die unless someone does something, even if it’s just a high-five.
You’re sitting at your kitchen table, one knee pulled up to your chest as you review case notes. Your food has gone cold because all you can do is cry. You’re so tired and so lonely and it shouldn’t be this way, but it is and you’re just over it. There’s a knock at the door so you wipe your eyes and answer it, hoping you look normal.
It’s Jamie.
The moment you register who it is, you’re launching yourself into his arms, wrapping around him like a spider monkey. He laughs. “Hello to you too,” he says, spinning you around. He stops when he feels you shaking in his arms.
“Oi,” he says, frowning a little, “you alright, love?”
He can feel tears on his neck.
“Babe,” he says, “did something happen at work?”
You shake your head, face still buried into the crook of his neck. “I just missed you,” you croak, voice muffled.
Jamie chuckles at that. You’re lucky he’s strong, because he’s able to carry you to the couch like it’s nothing, kicking the door shut behind him without losing his balance. He settles with you in his arms, rubbing a pattern on your back.
“It’s alright, love, I’m here,” he says, and you’ve never been more grateful for the fact that he calls you love more than your actual name. It’s like he’s always reminding you how he feels about you.
You just hold him tighter, letting the terrible feeling you had all week fade away. When it’s mostly gone, you pull away so you can look him in the face.
“I- I have this thing,” you say. Jamie looks concerned.
“Are you dyin’?” he asks.
“No!” you reply. “No, I’m not dying. I have- I’m touch-deprived. I let it get really bad sometimes and then I can physically feel it. You can look it up, it’s a real thing.” You don’t know why you feel the need to defend yourself. Jamie’s just looking at you, all quiet seriousness.
“That what it’s called?” he asks. “I know what you mean. Fucking had it two years ago. Used to egg Roy on just so he’d push me around and the lads’d have to hold me back. Wasn’t near me mum anymore, so I didn’t have anyone to hug me or anything. Sounds dumb, but… I just needed someone to touch me. Like if they didn’t, it meant I didn’t exist. Fucking mental.”
“Mental,” you agree.
Jamie smiles. “You’re the fucking best, you know that?” he asks. “I’m never bored when I’m with you. Came over to see if you wanted to watch a movie or play video games.”
He’s stroking your cheek with one hand, other still wrapped around your back.
You smile back. “I really, really love you Jamie Tartt. I’ll play video games, I just don’t want to play FIFA.”
Jamie’s smile drops. “Shit,” he says, and you think it’s because you don’t want to play his favorite video game. “You weren’t supposed to say it first, I was. I was gonna tell you tonight anyway.”
“It’s not a big deal, babe,” you say.
“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s a big fuckin’ deal. Now I’ve got to make it up to you.”
“No you don’t,” you say.
“Yes I do,” he replies. “I’m gonna tell you every fucking day how much I love you. I’ll drive home early from away games just to hug you. I want you to always feel like you have the love you deserve.”
You’re at a loss for words.
“Cat got your tongue, don’t it?” Jamie asks cheekily. “Not a problem, babe. I know how to get it back.”
hi, i love your writing! could i request something where jamie and reader are dating and jamie starts introducing them to the important people in his life, like roy, keeley, the richmond boys, etc. and each time they get introduced to someone new, whenever jamie steps away, they basically get some variation of the 'you better not hurt him' talk, and when jamie finds out he's worried that reader is gunna be offended or upset but they reassure him that it's fine, they think it's cute that everyone's so protective of him and that it's nice to see him have so many people care about him
Sorry this took FOREVER. Here it is!
the way it goes
It has been exactly twenty-one days since Jamie asked you out on a proper date, and you’re of the opinion that life can’t get much better than this. You’ve only met two of his teammates so far, (Isaac because he’s one of Jamie’s good friends and Richard because you ran into him while shopping) and honestly, they aren’t what you expected at all.
They’re kind and they seem to genuinely like working together.
(It’s a little funny to call football “work.”)
Isaac tells Jamie to bring you next time they all hang out, and reminds him to buy more juice packs than last time so they don’t run out again.
—
Turns out the next “hang out,” is a night at Isaac’s, and the whole team is there with various partners and spouses. There’s a strict sweatpants-only drsesscode, and pretty much everyone is in clearly expensive matching sets. You’re grateful that Jamie shrunk a brand-new deep green set the other week, because you didn’t have time to go out and buy something new/not ratty.
There are tables of board games, a pile of snacks, and even a bar. Jamie drags you over so he can get “proper buzzed,” and requests something incredibly complicated from Beard, who appears to be the only coach present.
“Babe,” Jamie says, “you good here? I’m gonna get some food.”
You nod and watch him weave through groups of people. You lean against the bar and wait for Jamie’s drink.
“So,” says Beard, “you’re Jamie’s girlfriend.
You nod. “Yeah, I am. I’ve known him for ages, though. Since I was in uni. Always thought he was just some prick footballer trying to score, if you know what I mean.”
Beard chuckles. “I get it. He’s a bit of an asshole sometimes.”
You grin. “He’s my asshole.”
Beard slides you Jamie’s drink but before he completely lets it go, he says, “Hey.”
His voice has lost its jocularity, so you look up to meet his (very intense, slightly terrifying) eyes.
“Jamie doesn’t need his heart broken. He may have been a giant prick, but he’s different now. He’s not the kind of guy you can just screw and move on from.”
Your mouth has gone a little dry, so you just nod. Right then. You turn to go find Jamie and hope he won’t mind if you take a sip of his drink. You’re planning on staying sober tonight, so that one sip is going to have to get you through till the end.
It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s told you to be careful with Jamie. The first time was actually Roy’s niece, Phoebe. Jamie was babysitting and he asked you to come along, so while he was paying for ice creams Phoebe tugged your arm so you’d get down to her level and said, “If you make him cry, they’ll never find you again.”
You had looked at her in shock while she matter-of-factly stated, “My Uncle Roy’s been teaching me things.”
She said the word things far too ominously for an eight year old, but then Jamie came back and she was all smiles again.
You got a similar, equally threatening talk from Phoebe’s mum, and then from Roy, and then Roy’s girlfriend Keeley.
Variations of the “break him and I’ll break you” talk had begun to trickle in whenever you’d pick up Jamie from Nelson Road. The tone ranged from Sam’s vaguely threatening, “We all love Jamie very much. We’re incredibly protective of him,” to Jan Maas’s blunt, “If you break his heart, you will never find another date on this entire continent.
Even Ted had a comment, which was more along the lines of, Jamie’s a big softie, he doesn’t need some to play him right now, he needs a real supporter. Each time, you assured them that you weren’t going to hurt him. You didn’t ask why they thought you would be the one doing the hurting when he was the one with the reputation.
Because you are fully aware of his reputation. You hadn’t seen Lust Conquers All, but you’d seen enough clips to piece together exactly how it went. And you’d seen the details of his cheating scandals all over the papers. And dealt with him firsthand while in uni. So yeah, Jamie’s past prick-ish behavior is not a mystery to you.
You find it endearing that so many people love him enough to protect him. It’s a good sign, you think.
You find Jamie carefully stacking various snacks on a tiny, tiny plate. His face lights up when you come into view.
“Oh good,” he says. “Extra hands.” He grabs his drink with one hand and gives you the plate with the other. He starts piling on something flaky and slightly green.
“Isaac’s girlfriend makes these fucking pistachio things, and they always go way too fast. Gotta eat them while you can,” he says while creating an engineering marvel.
“Glad you like ‘em, bruv,” comes Isaac’s voice from behind you. You jump a little, and the plate wobbles.
You turn to see Isaac with an absolutely gorgeous woman on his arm.
“I’m Stella,” she says. “It’s wonderful to meet you. We’ll have to have you two over for a real dinner.”
Jamie and Isaac quickly become engrossed in a serious discussion about football tactics, with Jamie downing his drink and then taking the plate of food from you. He was right, those pistachio things are amazing.
You chat with Stella for a little bit and learn she’s the face of a modeling agency and met Isaac during some football/branding thing.
“He was the only one during the entire shoot who made sure I was drinking enough water,” she laughs. “Who knew the way to my heart was through proper hydration?”
You talk a little longer before Jamie’s arm is snaking around your waist to whisk you off to see Dani. It goes like that for a little while until you finally settle down at one of the game tables. It’s a card game involving a lot of yelling and pointing fingers.
The house is noisy and cozy, filled to the brim with people who are just comfortable around each other, and you think you’ve never experienced something like this in your whole life.
Jamie on the other hand, is yawning a little bit. His hand, which had been on your knee tracing squiggly patterns, is starting to slow down so you put yours on top of his and whisper, “You about ready to go?”
Jamie nods and presses a kiss to the side of your head.
“Got fucking extra training tomorrow,” he quietly laments.
You get up to leave and Jamie follows suit with a very loud pronouncement that he’d rather be somewhere private, much to the amusement of the Greyhounds who begin to hoot and whistle. You roll your eyes and smack his butt on the way out.
Forty-five minutes later, Isaac’s phone dings with a photo of Jamie in a pink robe and green face mask, hair pulled back in an equally pink and fluffy headband. He’s lying on your bed and he can see the tv screen playing Notting Hill. You’ve typed, Someplace private, my ass, and Isaac just shakes his head and grins. Fucking Jamie. Prick on the outside, softie on the inside.
You better not break his heart, he writes.
HAH comes your reply a moment later. Not a chance.
“Babe, look,” you say handing Jamie your phone. “I’ve collected the whole set.”
Jamie reads your text thread then looks up at you in confusion. “What d’you mean?”
“Isaac is the only one who hasn’t like, threatened me or something if I hurt you,” you reply.
The tips of Jamie’s ears turn red. “What do you mean, the only one?” he asks. “Like, the team?”
You shake your head. “Oh no. I mean, yes, the whole team, but like pretty much everyone who works at Nelson Road.”
Jamie’s eyes widen as you begin to list people on your fingers. “Alright, so obviously the Greyhounds, plus all the coaches, Keeley, Rebecca, Higgins, Trent, Samantha at the front desk, Gary, Phoebe and her mum, Will-” you pause. “Should I keep going?”
Jamie groans. “Fucking hell. I’m sorry. They’re all twats, except Phoebe. I swear, they’re not always like that. I’ll talk to them and make ‘em leave you alone.”
“No! You can’t let them know that you know! And…” you hesitate, “I thought it was kind of sweet. Like a green flag, you know? They all like you enough to make sure that you’ll be ok, and they want me to know I have something special. Of course, I already knew that,” you continue, “but it’s nice confirmation.”
Oh. That’s new.
Jamie’s quiet for way too long so you look over at him. “Babe, are you crying?”
“No,” he says, choked up. “Face mask got in my fuckin’ eye.”
“It’s dried solid, babe.”
“Fine,” he says, “I might be a little. But you can’t tell anyone, especially not Ted, because then he’ll talk to me about feelings and shit, and I’d rather eat ten fucking scones than that.”
You laugh and snuggle into his side. There aren’t going to be any heartbreaks here, not if you can help it. You’re both planning on keeping the other around for the rest of your lives.