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i swear you write like you could be my favorite author if you ever decided to be the next jk rowling. i’ve read everything you’ve written and i still think about all your pieces to this day. you are brilliant and so so talented and never ever doubt that please

hey so this came at a really great time. I’m having a Bad Week, so this made it a lot better. Thank you so much for your sweet words🥺🩵🩵

#people being nice to me

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please don’t be - ch. 5

I’m so terribly sorry that this so late. I wasn’t entirely sure how I wanted to end this, and I almost added another chapter, but here it is!! Thanks for your patience and for 1k 🩵🩵 (ps you should listen to nothing to be scared of by Kacey Musgraves)

table of contents our town

You’re staring at him again. Jamie hates it, but also he doesn’t care because he gets to gaze into your beautiful eyes once more.

“Hm,” you say, because you can’t come up with something better. Instead, you let him be uncomfortable. You spent a long time making space for him, so in this, he can wait.

“I should have left you,” you say eventually.

“I know,” Jamie replies ruefully. “Remember you fuckin’ told me?”

You nod. “I do. And then I told you that I never leave. I always stay till the last second, and it’s the worst thing about me. And you said-” You pause. There’s no point in bringing up the past.

“I said some stupid shit about my mum,” Jamie fills in.

You nod. “Yeah, it was stupid. I know you said it just to get me to stay.”

“Didn’t,” Jamie interjects. You give him a look. “Alright, shit, maybe I did. But I wanted you to stay. I loved you, I was just too fucking scared to say it.”

“I gave you SO many opportunities to tell me,” you reply. “And you didn’t take any of them, you just left me behind. I knew you were going to so it’s fine, but you can’t just come back into my life and fuck things up again. I’m really not in the mood for it.”

You’re lying straight to his face, and you wonder if he knows. You hope he doesn’t. All you need is to wait just long enough for Jude to come back and then Jamie can go away and you don’t have to let him back in. Not that you have to. But you want to.

You understand that the moment he lets you have an inch, you’ll take a mile. You’ll write your whole future together based on a passing comment or an arm around your waist.

But Jamie knows you’re lying. You see it flicker in his eyes for half a second too long, and you know you’re screwed.

You take a step back. Jude isn’t coming back.

“I’m going,” you say. “I’m going, so don’t follow me. I can’t take you back. We won’t work.”

And Jamie- Jamie sees it.

You were always the visionary, weren’t you? The one who designed the future as though it were as easy as scribbling on a piece of paper. The one who saw the worst but believed in the best, and Jamie never quite believed you the one time you told him it could work forever, if he wanted.

He believes it now, though.

It’s too late as you slip past him and back inside, presumably to find Julia and keep her from committing murder; or maybe you’ll let her have free reign and Jamie is a dead man in about fifteen minutes.

It drives him mad, the future, and he wonders how it didn’t drive you mad as well.

—

France, Spain, Italy. They blend together in a haze of sunshine and lemon, as you, Nicola, and Julia travel the summer away. 

You refuse to think of Jamie, wherever he may be, but as July becomes August, you wonder what his mum is doing.

You’re on a first class flight back to London scrolling through Instagram, and you find yourself looking at her account. 

It’s private, but she followed you first a million years ago and you realize neither of you ever unfollowed the other. 

So you’re able to see how she’s filling her days.

She doesn’t always post Jamie’s face, but you see a familiar sleeve, or a Jamie-shaped shadow. You scroll back far enough to find a post from his twenty-seventh birthday which is a mistake because it’s a photo of Jamie blowing out candles with your arms wrapped around him.

You remember that moment, you were laughing and singing with his family while lying to yourself about how serious everything was.

But there’s no time to go down THAT rabbit trail so you close your phone and try to sleep through the rest of the flight.

—

Jamie is in hell. Training started a week ago, and it’s a shit show. It doesn’t help that he was never like this when you were with him. The first match of the season is coming up and he needs to get it the fuck together. There’s no way he’s getting in the starting lineup like this, not with the way he keeps glancing to the stands like you’ll be there.

He can’t help but think of you all the time, wherever you may be, and he tricks himself into seeing your face in every crowd.

He debates calling you (he never could delete your number), but he’s pretty sure he’s blocked so he doesn’t.

—

Jamie’s right, he doesn’t get started, but he has a good run in the second half. City win, obviously, but instead of going out with the lads Jamie gives them the slip and heads home.

Except he doesn’t exactly head straight home, he just sort of wanders around Manchester until he ends up in his favorite chicken shop.

He has exactly one day off of training so he figures one cheat meal won’t fuck him up more than he already is. It’s late, and he shouldn’t be eating at this hour, but he cannot give less of a fuck. He orders and goes to sit in the corner booth, only to find it occupied.

He thinks it’s you, for a moment, but you’re not in Manchester. He doesn’t know where you are, but that he knows for certain.

He’s wrong.

You’re looking up at him with a half-eaten plate of chips in front of you, and Jamie remembers every time you’ve looked at him like that.

“You have puppy eyes,” he said.

You scrunched your nose. “I know they’re puffy,” you said. “I was just crying in the car.”

“No, puppy eyes. I’d never say your eyes were fucking puffy, unless you were like, fucking dying or something.”

You had blushed and looked away, and Jamie knew he shouldn’t have said it. Knew he was getting in over his head.

Those eyes look more tired than he’s ever seen them, but you say, “Need a seat?” as you gesture to the place across from you.

Jamie slides in before he can think better of it. “Bit crowded in here,” he says, and you glance around to the empty tables.

“Wouldn’t have offered to share if it weren’t so hard to find a table,” you say.

He smiles, and you want to make him smile like that all the time.

“Watched the match,” you tell him. “You were great.”

Jamie rolls his eyes. “I were shit, and you know it. Don’t know what the fuck was happening.”

“You weren’t shit. You always say that, and you’re never right.”

You’re not sure exactly what’s coming over you right now. You’re detached from your body, watching this scene unfold from above.

Jamie shakes his head. “Why do you always say shit like that? Why the fuck did you stay for so long? You knew-” He’s unable to finish, captivated by the pools of tears collecting in your eyes. He knows you’d rather die than let them fall, and he wishes he weren’t the cause.

“You still have the most beautiful eyes in the whole fuckin’ world,” he says softly.

You glare at him. “Fuck you for that,” you say. “And I stayed because I wanted to. And because I thought you’d change. You changed everything else for me, and then didn’t ask me to come with you. You just assumed that I wouldn’t want every part of you, remember? You didn’t listen when I told you how much I’d give up for you. And sure, it’s not very feminist of me, but I- I loved you. I’d do anything for the people I love. But you never fucking asked.”

You sigh. This conversation is a lot angrier than you wanted. You’re not angry. At least, not with Jamie. With yourself, sure. You take a bite of a chip to stave off the tears.

Jamie’s still processing. “You would’ve stayed longer?” he asks slowly.

You almost choke. “Yes, you absolute fucking idiot! I told you that! Your mum fucking told you, for Christ’s sake! Everyone fucking knew how much I loved you, and I knew you didn’t feel the same which is why I didn’t fight you when you left! I figured it was time for me to move on as well, so I did my absolute fucking best. But yeah, Jamie, I love you. Every part, too. Not just the things you think make you lovable.” You stand up. “I’m leaving. Goodbye, Jamie.”

As you brush past him, he catches your wrist. You look down at him with as much disdain as you can muster (it’s not a lot).

“Stay,” he whispers.

And you’re at a crossroads.

—

Three years later…

“Can’t believe we’re going back,” you groan as you tape a box.

“Coach asked,” Jamie calls from another room. “And you better not be lifting anything.”

“I’m not,” you shoot back as he enters the room. “That’s what you’re for. And anyway, the movers will be here in half an hour, so there won’t be much for me to do anyway.”

Jamie wraps his arms around your waist so he can pull you close and study your eyes. “You sure you’re alright going back to Richmond?”

You shrug as best you can. “I’m living the dream, babe. Not worried about it.”

And Jamie believes you.

He can’t believe much else, that’s for sure, not that you took him back. 

“One last chance, Jamie Tartt,” you had warned. “Fuck it up and I’m gone before you can blink.”

So he didn’t. Sure, no one’s perfect, but he’s trying. You both are. You’ve made it this far. Who’s to say it’ll crash and burn? 

Besides, he’s got a rock burning a hole in his pocket that says otherwise.

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#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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no bc im checking ur blog everyday to see if part 5 is out, like ur a poet, Shakespeare has been reaal quiet since u put a pen to paper, andrew garfield could never!!

Omg you’re so kind😭 please forgive me, it’s almost done! I know it’s terrible, but I haven’t exactly decided how it’s going to end. But I’m going to sit down and get it done rn!!

#people being nice to me #jamie tartt x reader

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You're absolutely brilliant! I never click faster than when I see your sn pop up on my feed. You make me want to write Jamie better. Never ever stoooooop. ❤️

oh my gosh, you’re so kind! Messages like this make me want to write more. Thank you!!🫶🩵

#people being nice to me

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omg i loved the first two parts of please don’t be!!!!! it’s terribly terribly relatable for at the moment hahaha please tag me

Oof. I’m glad you liked it, sorry it’s relatable😅 The next two parts are up now! I’m going to try to finish the last part by tomorrow

#people being nice to me

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please don’t be - ch. 4

table of contents go your way

“It’s the south of France,” Jamie says. “The fuck am I supposed to do there?”

“Brooks is throwing a wicked party,” Colin says. “Michael’s been begging me to go, so we’re going.”

“You have to go, lad,” Jack adds. “Maybe then you’ll stop being a broody prick.”

Jamie doesn’t know what to say. It’s off season, Colin’s in Manchester, and somehow he and Jack have taken it upon themselves to ruin Jamie’s self-loathing.

Because he loathes himself right now.

Yeah, football’s great as-fucking-ever, but fucking off season is making it shit in his head.

He hadn’t expected to feel anything, not when he’s usually so empty in his mind.

But you… you were a giver. And it was a problem because Jamie, always so love-starved, took everything you had. At some point something changed though, because he felt guilty always fucking taking and never giving.

He couldn’t stand the way you looked at him, as though he hung the moon, and it felt like a deception even though you knew it was temporary.

That’s what he hated the most, the fact that you always, always knew, and you still stayed.

It’s a problem. It’s summer, and he’s on his way to the south of France.

—

Jamie is losing his mind. Is this how you felt that one afternoon? He wishes he would have been kinder. He can’t really smile, he misses Richmond and he misses Roy (the prick) and Keeley (what an angel). He misses you most of all, but he won’t insult you by trying to get you back.

He keeps seeing your face everywhere he goes, but it’s impossible because you’re somewhere in London.

It’s far too quiet inside his own body, and he misses the buzz that came with being near you. The world turned electric when you entered a room.

The silence echoes louder as the night progresses. 

Jamie steps outside for air and sees Jude snogging someone under a tree. He shakes his head with a chuckle as they break apart.

There’s a crackle, one only he can feel, and the world goes red.

Jamie ducks behind a pillar as Jude passes him, presumably to grab something from inside and before Jamie can think of what to do, he’s watching you press your palms over your eyes.

“I promise this is the only time I’ll ever ask you for something,” you tell him, head in your hands.

Jamie can barely speak. He’s grinning like an idiot, completely enamored with the way you can’t bear to burden him. 

You’re not a burden, and he can’t say the exact words but he’ll try to show you.

“You think too much,” he says.

“I know,” you groan. “I just know this is not at all what we talked about.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

Your head shoots up. “Sweet? That’s what you’re going with? This is awful. I’m only asking because I have to. I promise, I wouldn’t if I didn’t.”

Jamie’s still grinning as he says, “I’ll be there. I’m great with nieces, just ask Roy. Bring her a birthday present and everything.”

“You sure?” you ask hesitantly. “My whole family will be there.”

Jamie shrugs. “Not a problem, love.”

He would have promised you the whole world just to see your eyes light up like they did then. Would have given up his god-given footy talent just to feel your arms around him like they were in that moment.

So Bellingham’s inside and you’re alone, so in a haze of poorly-exchanged pleasantries, Jamie says, “I fucking love you, and I’m fucking stupid for leaving.”

Once again, he watches your face shutter through a million expressions at once as you carefully consider and catalogue his words.

Instead of your face lighting up like he hoped it would, it shatters. Just for a moment, but it breaks into a thousand pieces.

In between one moment and the next, he sees you pull yourself together.

It’s fast, too fast for it to be real, but he’s not going to say anything about it as long as you’re his again, you have to be his again. 

There’s no other way this can go.

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#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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please don’t be - ch. 3

table of contents glow (so other things can)

“It’s the south of France,” says Julia. “No one’s allowed to be sad in the south of France.”

“She’s not sad,” Nicola corrects. “She doesn’t feel anything, and that can’t be good.”

You shrug and watch the lemon trees sway in the breeze.

You can’t be expected to feel something, not when you’re empty inside. You’d have to have something left of you.

But Jamie… Jamie liked to take. It wasn’t a problem because you liked to give, but at some point something changed and he took your entire heart before you noticed it was gone. 

And you’d been so careful too. 

It’s not a problem. It’s summer, you’re on vacation in the South of France, and life couldn’t be better. You’re in a sprawling villa with three of your friends, a gorgeous beach nearby, and some of the best food of your life. 

You’re glowing.

And you’re going to some couture event that’s really just a party because Nicola’s technically here on work, so the three of you get to wear beautiful Versace dresses and mingle with Europe’s most beautiful and celebrated, all in a gorgeous chateau. 

Your brain replays, you should go back to school, so you shake your head to clear it of that choppy, beautiful voice and pretend the sky isn’t the exact color of your eyes. 

You take the tube of lipstick from Julia’s hand and decide it’s going to be smeared by the end of the night.

—

There’s nothing quite like losing your head in another country. It doesn’t count, in a way. The boy in front of you is nothing like Jamie and you don’t mind so much, except he doesn’t look into your eyes the same way, and he doesn’t quite know what to say in between kisses.

Not that he needs to say anything, god knows you and Jamie had your uninterrupted moments, but Jamie always knew exactly what you were thinking and exactly what to say. The buzzing in your head stops whenever he enters a room.

The buzzing has only gotten louder as the night progresses.

He pauses long enough to ask, “Can I get you a drink?” so you nod and smile and then knock your head against the nearest tree as soon as he’s gone. 

It’s not working. 

The whole point of this was to forget Jamie. To remove the last little shreds clinging to your memory.

He shouldn’t matter, he doesn’t, and yet…

You groan, and scrunch your eyes shut. It wasn’t supposed to matter, you knew better. But some floppy-haired pretty-boy prick-ass footballer had said the exact right combination of words to get you to fall so hard and so fast.

“You going back to school?” he asks one evening. You’re both bundled up and walking through Richmond, on the hunt for some coffee.

You shrug. “Don’t know. I’d like to go for a doctorate, but I’m not sure it’s necessary. Be fun, though”

Jamie throws back his head and laughs, pearly-white teeth glowing in the streetlight. “You’re the only fucking person I know who thinks a fucking doctorate is fun.”

He knocks into you, just a nudge, but it sets your arm ablaze. Every touch from him feels like fire.

You’re quiet, unsure what to say next. Jamie, though, Jamie knows what to say. Jamie always knows what to say. He knows where to go, what to do; you never have to think too much when you’re with him. He knows when to ask, and when to choose.

“You should do it,” he continues. “You should go back to school. Be fucking mint, like. I’d get to tell the lads I’m with a real fuckin’ doctor.”

And that was it. That was all it took for the tingling in your arm to shoot all the way to your chest. And sure, you didn’t have time at the moment, but you’d applied as soon as Jamie played his first match back on City turf.

He always knew the way to your heart. 

Fuck him for that.

There was a part of you that always thought he wanted more but was too scared to ask.

But you were wrong, so wrong, so fuck Jamie Tartt.

You hear footsteps on the gravel, so you open your eyes, expecting your drink, but are instead met with a stupid Gucci button up, rolled to perfectly showcase a stupid tattoo on a stupid forearm.

“Oh,” is all you can manage. “Sorry. I- I didn’t know you were here. Where’s…?”

“Inside,” comes Jamie’s short response.

“Oh,” you say again.

There’s a part of you that wants to leave, and leave fast, but another, more idiotic part of you wants to stay.

Just for a moment, just long enough for him to apologize, explain, something, although you know he won’t. So you should leave rather than be disappointed.

But you pause for half a second, still blinking up at him (when did he get so close?) and just as you resign yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to walk away, he speaks and breaks your heart all over again.

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#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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please don’t be - ch. 2

I’ll finish the rest at some point tomorrow but for now, here are the first two chapters of “please don’t be.” lmk what you think!

table of contents and i’ll be good to you

It’s Roy who reminds him, you’re a little fucking prick, every day of Jamie’s life with varying degrees of sincerity. Because he has to remind Jamie. 

Otherwise, he’ll disintegrate under the strain of being Richmond’s star striker. 

Otherwise, his head will get too fucking big and he’ll explode. 

Oh, it was easy in the beginning. He meets girls all the time, smiles and flirts, none of them quite stirring his chest the way Keeley did. 

She’s off limits anyway, only took Roy a month of therapy to win her back. Ted’s gone now, Roy’s head gaffer, and Jamie does the unthinkable. 

He falls for a girl in a chicken shop of all places. 

He shouldn’t have even fucking been there. Roy would have his head. But fuck Roy, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, so fuck. Roy. 

So there he is, just looking and smiling like a fucking idiot, except you’re making the same face so before he can talk himself out of it, he does the unthinkable. He makes a move. 

Jamie might be a little fucking prick, but he’s not a big fucking idiot. He knows people; more specifically, he knows good people. He’s not entirely sure what tips him off that very first night, but he’s certain. You’re going to matter. 

Maybe not to him forever, but to the world? Certainly. 

It’s terrifying. 

“Don’t fuck it up bruv,” says Isaac, his actual best friend. 

“Won’t,” Jamie responds as he stretches his hamstrings. 

Roy, the bastard, is within earshot and gives him a critical look. “He already fucking has,” Roy says, and he’s gone before Jamie can retort. What could he say, anyway? Roy’s right. 

It’s fun and it’s light but at the same time, Jamie Knows. Maybe that’s why he says stupid things. Things that are a line on anyone else, but they come out strangely sincere with you. He doesn’t have time for this, he really doesn’t, but he finds himself wanting to make time. 

All he wants to do is tell you he loves you and doesn’t deserve you, tell you to be with someone good like Sam, but the selfish part in him wants you, alone. He doesn’t want to share you, to give you up. 

“What are you doing, babe?” Keeley asks over the phone when the sheer normalcy of your conversation begins to overwhelm him. “I’ve looked into her, and she’s not someone you just mess about with. You can’t keep doing this.”

Jamie does what he can. He does. He tells you exactly how it’s going to go and watches the words shutter past your eyes and into your brain. He can tell you’re logging them carefully, weighing the pros and cons. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding when you nod, slowly, signifying you’ve accepted the terms and conditions. 

He should feel better about it. You know. You consented. And yet… there’s guilt. 

There’s an awful moment, when his mum’s in town and he’s bringing her to meet you, and he can see you in the owner’s box after the match. You’re far away, gazing at the pitch with rain pelting down. Your arm is outstretched in an attempt to catch a drop and your eyes are half-closed and he realizes he’s excited for Georgie to meet you. The air changes for a split second and he knows.

He’s not making it out of this unscathed. 

One of you will leave. It’s inevitable. It has to be him. 

It’s inevitable. 

So he pauses in the doorway and makes note of how the air smells and exactly how you look before ignoring his mum’s expression and pulling over to where you stand. 

“The fuck are you doing, Jamie?” Georgie asks later, but it’s with concern as opposed to chastisement. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know, but she makes me feel things I’ve never fuckin’ felt before, and I don’t know what to do with it, I’m going to fuck it up, it won’t end well, I’ve already fucked it up…”

Jamie does what he does best: takes. 

He takes and he takes, and he soothes his conscience by reminding you that you’re not together. Not really. 

He realizes what it means to love you when you calmly tell him you’re in the middle of a panic attack and something in him rages against the thing that’s causing you pain. He wouldn’t have known you were panicking, except maybe he would have, because you’re calm save the shaking of your hands. 

“Can you hold this?” you ask him, voice smooth as ever as you hand him your tea. “I’m going to drop it in a minute.”

Against his better judgement, he asks, “What’s wrong?” as soon as you’re both seated. 

“I get anxious when I don’t hear from you. It’s silly, but it happens,” you say so matter-of-factly.

Jamie says, “I won’t change for you,” matching your calm, smooth, peaceful voice. 

You reply, “I’m not asking you to. I’m just explaining to you why I’m a bit strange today.”

It scares him. He knows you’re not lying about any of it. You’re panicking, losing your mind in the middle of this overly-posh place that he picked because he knew you’d love the tea. It’s early into this… situation? but he could’ve predicted exactly what you’d order. Could’ve bet money on the spot you’d choose to sit. 

But he’s scared. How can you compartmentalize so easily? He can’t change his lot in life, not now. Football is his first love. Is it his greatest love? He always thought so, but he can’t ask you to uproot yourself to try to mold your life into his. No, that won’t fucking work. 

He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re toying with him. Is he just a passing amusement?

But there’s something about the way you say those words. Three of them, so softly, refusing to let him say them back. 

I love you.

You’re brushing his hair out of his eyes. 

I love you.

You’re squeezing his hand tightly through a crowd of people.

I love you.

You’re shaking his shoulders in excitement after a hat-trick.

I love you.

He didn’t ask you to. 

So why does he feel guilty?

You just look at him with those soft, sad eyes, all watery from tears and the guilt constricts his heart. Or maybe it’s love, he’s not sure, but now isn’t the moment to find out. You haven’t said anything for sixty seconds, not since he said he was leaving for Manchester in a week. 

“You knew I was moving back to Manchester at the end of the season,” Jamie says accusingly, because you did know. He can’t stomach the fact that you’re crying over him.

You nod silently.

“What did you think was going to happen?” he asks. 

It’s a real question. It’s a fucking dare, a wish, a hope that you’ll be the one to say you wanted to be with him forever, logistics be damned. 

You don’t bite. Instead, you say, “I didn’t expect anything to happen. I never pressured you. I never- I didn’t ask for any of this. Am I not allowed to be sad?”

Jamie wants to bite out, “No, you’re not allowed to be fucking sad,” except he knows he did this. It wasn't on purpose. He didn’t think. 

No, that’s a lie. He did think. 

There’s no point in telling you he’d stay with Richmond forever if it meant he could have you for eternity. If you’d only ask. Or maybe if he’d decide what love was and what mattered, instead of taking the easy way out and leveling responsibility on your shoulders.

It doesn’t feel easy, even when the remnants of AFC Richmond have all gone out drinking to celebrate their last bit of time together. 

None of them ask, but Jamie can feel the questions burning on the tips of their tongues. Seven months together… he wanted forever, but was too afraid to ask. 

Roy’s the only one who tosses back a beer and shakes his head. He mutters, “Fucking prick,” before swanning home to Keeley. 

He means it this time. 

Jamie knows not to text, not to call. “I’m not that kind of girl,” you tell him. “Once we’re done, we’re done.” 

He’s back in town and on your street, waffling between respecting your wishes and shouting to the world that he loves you.

In his experience, love is shit. It’s brutal and painful and fucks up everything good. But with you… it felt good. Healthy, even. 

And fuck if he isn’t going to be healthy. 

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#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[its-time-to-write]

please don’t be - ch. 1

for context! this takes place after season 3, and in my head Jamie plays one season with Richmond under Roy, then goes back to City to play for Pep bc let’s be real, he’s a Manchester boy at heart. so that’s what’s happening, that’s the timeline, this is def the most non-canonical thing I’ve written. it might be out of character. it might be self-indulgent. I don’t know, I would say I don’t care, except I do. enjoy.

table of contents be good to me

It’s Julia who reminds you, he’s the one who asked for your number. Because she has to remind you. Otherwise you’ll tear yourself to pieces thinking about how it’s all your fault. 

Oh, it was easy in the beginning. You meet Jamie Tartt of all people in a chicken shop of all places. Things like that don’t just happen. Except it did, and he smiled at you first, and you had a stupid, stupid thought that became a stupid, stupid reality. 

And Julia was there from the beginning, what with her raised eyebrows and frosty opinions. 

“Be so careful,” she warns. “He doesn’t understand that he doesn’t deserve you.”

You laugh and squeeze her arm as you slip out the door and into Jamie’s car. 

Because it’s fun and silly and he has exactly the right words all the time. Words about your eyes, your voice, your humor; words you know not to take seriously, but he says them with such sincerity that you allow yourself to believe them for a second. 

He says strange things too, things about meeting his mum and holidays in the far future where you’re on a beach with him or maybe in the stands or in a room that costs more than you make in a month. 

He says the word marriage on the third date and it’s not even in reference to the both of you, just to him. He wants it, someday, sooner than people think. You study the wall behind him and sip your water. It’s ice-cold, with just the right amount of lemon. You keep your thoughts on the matter to yourself. No sense in filling the air with meaningless words. Marriage is a conversation for another girl. Not you. 

No, you do your best to take it for what it is, although you’re slipping. 

It’s a fling, albeit long-term. You have incompatible schedules, never mind the way you bend your time to the breaking point just to see him for ten minutes. You have a career, bills to pay, people to fix; he has football, a team, and history to make. 

It’s a whirlwind of parties, matches, flights to Dubai, photographers, dresses, jewels. You know it’s a dream. You do. 

Still, it’s hard to think of it as such when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and tells you, “My mum really liked meeting you the other day.”

It doesn’t matter how many times he tells you you’re just going out, he’s not your boyfriend (as if you aren’t painfully aware). He’s acting as if it’s more. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Julia says when you come home, confused and conflicted. “I don’t fault you for staying, but don’t forget you can leave whenever you’re ready.”

But you’re not ready. 

You’ll bend over backwards, put everything on the shelf if it means loving Jamie for half a minute. He’d never ask, no one ever does, because they always assume they know how you’ll respond. 

But they don’t. 

There’s a horrifying moment when you’re at some posh coffee shop, and you’re standing up to grab extra sweetener from the counter. Jamie grabs your wrist so gently to ask for a cup of water, but all you can see is the sweet expression on his face and an eyelash resting on his cheek. He’s smiling up at you and you brush away the eyelash with your free thumb, palm cupping his face. The air changes for a split second and you know.

You’re not making it out of this unscathed.

One of you will leave. It’s inevitable. It will not be you. 

It’s inevitable. 

So you hold his face for a beat too long before heading inside to compose yourself. You pretend not to notice the family with their cameras out. It’s a common occurrence, as common as footballers being seen with a girl who comes from another life and means nothing in the grand scheme of the Premier League. 

There are so many times you want to scream that there are bigger things than the Premier League. 

“I can fix him,” you tell Julia. “I get it. I understand his whole brain, how it works, what he thinks. I understand all of it. I can fix it.”

Julia sighs. “You’re not his therapist. It’s not your job, love.”

Still.

You do what you do best: love. 

It shows itself in the way you smooth out the knots in his forehead, his chest, his back. The way you smile that special, soft, just-for-Jamie smile. The way you listen extra carefully and joke and laugh when things are especially difficult. 

“I won’t change for you,” he says one day, early on, when you explain the panic you feel when he doesn’t speak to you for a week. 

“I’m not asking you to,” you say, voice steady despite the fact that your hands shake so hard you almost drop your tea. “I’m just explaining to you why I’m a bit strange today.”

Except he does change. His words- they don’t match his actions. 

I won’t change for you. 

Except you hear from him every day. 

I won’t change for you.

Except he makes time to see you. 

I won’t change for you. 

Except he’s inviting himself for tea with your family. 

I won’t change for you. 

You never asked him to. 

So why is it your fault?

“You knew I was moving back to Manchester at the end of the season,” he says accusingly, because you did know. You’re not asking him to stay, even now. 

You nod silently, letting as few tears streak down your face as possible. 

“What did you think was going to happen?” he asks. 

Nothing. You didn’t think anything was going to happen. 

You reply, “I didn’t expect anything to happen. I never pressured you. I never- I didn’t ask for any of this. Am I not allowed to be sad?”

There’s no point in telling him you’d move with him if he asked. Seven months together… it’s a long time. But it’s not forever, and it’s not long enough, apparently. 

Julia’s in the flat that night. She always seems to know which nights to be home and not out with her sickeningly perfect boyfriend. 

She doesn’t say anything, just hands you the box of takeout as you whisper, “I’m so tired of begging to be loved.”

It’s a cheap shot, you know that, but still. There’s plenty of love in your life. But the begging…

It’s silent, never leaving your lips. But it’s always screaming inside your head. 

Love me, love me, love me. I am making myself lovable for you. Love me. 

He knows not to text, not to call. You hear he’s in town and are relieved that you don’t hear from him. At least he knows enough to leave you alone. 

You’ll love someone for eternity, until they decide they don’t want it anymore. Once they decide, they’re not allowed back. They can’t come back. It wouldn’t be healthy. 

And fuck if you weren’t going to be healthy. 

table of contents

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[its-time-to-write]

please don’t be

oh hey I made a thing! I’m almost at 1000 followers and I’d imagine this fic will push me over the edge, so here’s a little celebration!

here are some songs that i drew a LOT of some inspiration from:

too good to be true - Kacey Musgraves

suburban house - Holly Macve

your mind is not your friend - the National

deeper well - Kacey Musgraves

new order t-shirt - the National

we can’t be friends - Ariana Grande

enjoy!✨🍊

chapter 1 - be good to me

chapter 2 - and i’ll be good to you

chapter 3 - glow (so other things can)

chapter 4 - go your way

chapter 5 - our town

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[its-time-to-write]

Hey hey! Happy holidays! I hope you’re doing better and enjoying the celebration with your family :)

Hi!!! Once again I am SO SORRY at the length of time it took me to respond. I did enjoy the holidays, and I’ve been enjoying 2024 so far. It’s been a wild ride for sure! Hope you’re doing well too🩵🍊

#people being nice to me

[its-time-to-write]

hi!! i just wanted to Tysm for writing one of the fics i requested- it was perfect! Hope you’re feeling better and whenever you feel up to it the Jaimie tartt girlies will be happy to have you back!!

Hi! I wish I remembered which fic this was, and I’m sorry for taking so long to respond!! I hope this reply makes it to you🩵🍊

#people being nice to me

[its-time-to-write]

hi!! hope ur doing well and that this new year brings lots of love and joy!!! hopefully we’ll see u back soon but in the meantime know that everyone’s rooting for you friend!! u got this✨✨✨✨

Hi I am doing well!! I’m wrapping up a fic rn and hopefully I’ll post it in the next couple hours!! Thank you for the encouragement, I’ve been keeping this ask in my inbox for a long time and it’s been helping me through the year so far. Hope you’re doing well too, wherever you are🩵🍊

#people being nice to me

[its-time-to-write]

love you 🩵💙

love you too🩵🍊 hope all is well!!!!

#people being nice to me

[its-time-to-write]

Girl it sounds like you’re living in a fanfic yourself rn

honestly yeah I literally am not quite sure my life is real rn. um last night he told me my eyes were like tiny oceans, “but I’m sure you’ve heard that before” and I was like “no??? I haven’t???” uh anyway he also is dead-set on getting my whole family to adore him and it’s working????? I just. I don’t know. I have like ✨anxiety✨ about it sometimes bc I don’t get what he’s doing with me so I asked him once and he was like “??? I’m in love with you??”

anyway my therapist is having a field day with me because turns out my self esteem is ✨low✨ and this guys is making me realize it, but in a good way not a shitty way.

hope y’all are doing well. I am losing my mind.

#pre work posts #people being nice to me #writing prompt #romance #love story

[its-time-to-write]

look being a therapist is super fun and fulfilling and all, but i stg if one more person does not do what they’re supposed to do i’m going to be so mad. and when i say mad i mean im going to sigh really deeply and remind u that you’re not living up to your full potential. and that you can do hard things.

pls. i beg of u. im not even asking for a lot, i just think maybe you should brush your teeth from time to time. or like, tell your husband you love him bc he’s putting up with your ✨garbáge✨

but what do i know, nothing apparently

#personal #writing prompt #pre work posts

[its-time-to-write]

okay my deepest darkest secret is that i actually LOVE sports. you’re telling me i get to dress up in fun colors and yell a lot while watching men run around? and sometimes it’s while watching my man run around? yes okay thank you, i like that a lot. people try to tell me that i need to know all the rules, and i do not! i know enough about sports to know when to be happy and mad! sure i’m an intelligent woman with my own job and goals and whatever, but when i’m in a stadium i am The biggest fan and no one can stop me.

#personal #romance #love story #writing prompt #pre work posts