summary: Corroded Coffin or Die Photo Prompt Server Challenge | Jamie thinks you’re asleep and has some things to get off his chest.
warnings: a first i love you
notes: Someone will care about Jamie and his lady love one day lmao. Big thank you to @peachyproserpina for throwing some spaghetti at me when I couldn’t figure out how to make my idea work. Enjoy x. Feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes.
The television across the room is humming quietly along with the theme tune of some commercial you’d seen a thousand and two times. It’s throwing a bright red light over the walls of your living room. The movie though is some late night bullshit Jamie had insisted on putting on. The kind where something explodes every ten minutes and a plot barely exists. You stopped paying attention fifteen minutes ago.
Rain is tapping gently against the window again— like it does more so than not. It’s a soft drizzle, one that feels like it never really goes away here in London. The heat clicks on every now and again, warming the room just enough that the blanket you’ve draped over your bodies feels more cozy than necessary.
Jamie is stretched out along the sofa under you, his legs tangled with yours under the blanket. Your head is resting against his shoulder. And at some point, your eyes are starting to drift shut. Or at least mostly shut. You’re not actually asleep, you’re just hovering in the comfortable floaty place between being asleep and awake that feels soft and slow and oh-so-comfortable. Jamie thinks you’re out, though. You can tell by the way he keeps glancing down at you every few minutes instead of continuing on his running sarcastic commentary about the movie.
It keeps playing though, distant gunshots and muffled dialogue filling the space. Then Jamie shifts slightly under you— as carefully as he can, so he doesn’t wake you. His shoulder moves and your head tilts a little closer to his neck instead. His hand comes up then and his fingers settle gently into your hair. He starts to play with it quietly. It’s more absentminded than anything at first. Just slow little movements as he twists a strand around his finger and then smooths it back down again. His fingertips drag soft and warm against your scalp. He lets out a breath, his eyes scanning over what he can see of your face.
“God,” He chuckles under his breath. “You’re proper out.”
You almost smile, you have to really concentrate not to.
His thumb brushes lightly over your temple as he tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ear. The motion gentle in a way that Jamie rarely lets himself be when you’re both awake.
For a minute, he doesn’t say anything else. The TV light flickers across his face. Outside, a car passes on the street below letting a soft hissing sound penetrate this little moment. Then he sighs. It’s not a bad sigh. It’s just thoughtful.
“You know,” He starts quietly, his voice barely louder than the rain hitting the glass pane. “One day I’m gonna buy you a house.”
Your heart stutters in your chest so hard, you’re almost certain he can feel it from where your bodies are pressed together. And you have to force yourself to stay perfectly still.
Jamie keeps playing with your hair. “Not here though,” he continues softly, thinking out loud. “London’s shit for that. Too expensive.” He smiles, and then there’s a tiny pause before he continues— like he was thinking about exactly what you wanted. “Somewhere with a garden.”
His fingers trace slowly down the length of your hair again, “a proper one too.” He smiles. “Not like… two sad plants and a broken fence. I mean a real garden.” He huffs out a small laugh then. “You’d fill it with weird stuff though, wouldn’t you?”
You swear he looks down at you then.
“Like those little lights you like. And that ugly birdbath you pointed out the other day.”
Your throat starts to tighten. You remember that. You were running errands together and walked past that charity shop on the corner. In the window sat that birdbath and you’d both started laughing at how hideous the stone bird was.
Jamie’s hand slides gently over your head again. “I’d fix the place up. Paint it however you wanted. Even that weird green you like.”
You bite the inside of your cheek to stay quiet. Jamie hates that green. He had complained about it in the paint aisle at B&Q’s for ten minutes last month.
“You’d get the big window in the kitchen.” He continues, voice just a bit softer than before. “The one you said you wanted. So you could sit there with your tea and pretend you’re in some fancy countryside ad or whatever.”
There’s another pause then as his fingers slow their movements in your hair. The TV explodes with some loud action scene but Jamie barely seems to notice. He’s stopped paying attention too.
“You’d like it.” He whispers.
Your chest feels just as tight as your throat now. Because he’s not joking. He’s not putting up that usual facade he likes to hide behind. He sounds nervous. Like now that you’re “asleep” the words are slipping out before he can even try to stop them.
His thumb brushes lightly along your hairline again. “And I’d fix everything.” He smiles. “All the dodgy bits. I’m good at that stuff, yeah? Plumbing, doors, whatever.”
Another pause.
“It’ll be just how you want it.”
You feel him swallow.
“I’d do that for you.”
The rain outside is starting to pick up as he lets out another breath. His hand still resting gently in your hair. “Dunno why I’m telling you all this.” He mumbles to himself.
Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure you’ve been busted.
He shifts again slightly, leaning his head back against the arm of the sofa. Then, very quietly, he adds— “Just… love you, don’t I.”
And everything inside you goes completely still. He’s never said that before. Not once. Not ever. Not even close.
His fingers tighten slightly in your hair and he chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah.” He sighs. “Brilliant timing, mate. Tell her that while she’s unconscious.”
Your resolve almost breaks right there. But if you move now you know he’ll panic. So you stay exactly where you are. Just breathing slow and pretending.
Jamie exhales again, it’s softer this time, and then he presses a gentle kiss into the top of your head. Then he keeps playing with your hair while the movie flickers on.
genre: theatre/alternative
inspo: npd and bipolar based
Happy Little Pill - Troye Sivan
God, I Hate Shakespeare - original cast of Something Rotten!
Sing Me To Sleep - Alan Walker
Car Radio - Twenty One Pilots
Lifeboat - Heathers: The Musical
Breathe - Years & Years
i wasn’t sure what route to take the playlist, if youd like a different genre tho just tell me! – mod elliot
summary: JQ Fic Exchange Spring Break Edition: Stay-cation | After a scheduling error, you’re missing out on your family vacation and Jamie does his best to make it better.
warnings: wine
notes: I’ve had a lot of fun with the mini events recently so I brought this boy back to keep it going! I’ve read this over once but feel free to correct any mistakes you find.
You know the day is bad when you stop trying to check the time.
That’s when you just give in and give up, letting the day officially win over you— like you’re just letting whatever happens happen. Today, the office had emptied out in waves around you while you were stuck fixing a problem that started with one scheduling error and somehow turned into six separate people cc’ing each other back and forth until your laptop was hot enough to explode. And by the time you’re ready to shut things down for the night, you swear the cleaners have already vacuumed around you.
Your phone buzzes on your walk to your car— another holiday photo. Your family is on the rental house deck, your mama’s got a drink in her hand, and the sunset is dropping down on the horizon behind them.
You type out quickly, looks amazing, and unfortunately you mean that. Which makes everything just that much worse.
Jamie had stayed over last night. He must’ve left sometime after you did because you remember his face half buried in the pillow, blanket strewn over his waist, grunting softly when you get up and tell him you have to go. He says something that sounds like lock the door against the fabric.
So you expect a dark flat when you open the door. Instead, you’re greeted by warm light. It’s not bright, it’s just the side lamp next to the couch. And there’s music playing low from your speaker. It’s something with an old guitar.
You frown and step inside, shutting the door behind you quietly. And then your eyes catch the wall. There are photos taped up in a loose, uneven line. They’re coastlines and beaches, a pier, a shot of the horizon. They’re all on printer paper. Some too dark, some too bright, there’s even one photo you took of the river months ago.
You stand and stare at them.
“You’ve got shit tape,” Jamie calls from where he’s stood at the kitchen counter. “Two already fell down.”
You turn your head to peer over at him. He looks completely settled into the evening already, cutting into a loaf of bread.
“You redecorate while I’m at work now?” You ask softly.
“Don’t exaggerate.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s like… four pictures.”
“That’s more than four.”
“Alright, eight then.”
You drop your bag in the chair by the door, still looking around the place. There’s takeaway containers stacked up near the stove, a bottle of wine and mismatched glasses already on the coffee table, and your good blanket’s been dragged off your chair and dumped onto the sofa.
You just look back at him, “What is all of this?”
He glances up with a shrug, “damage control.”
“For what?” You frown.
“You.” He sighs as he sets down the knife. “You were properly upset this morning when they called you in.”
You lean back against the wall, arms crossed over your chest as you look at him. “I was fine.”
“Yeah,” he shakes his head as he grabs the takeout containers, “and I’m six foot four.”
You huff out a breath.
“Figured if you’re missing your holiday…” His voice gets a bit softer, “we could fake one. Together. But you know… a more scaled-down version. No sand. Less gulls. And better plumbing for sure.”
You look back over your shoulder at the photos and smile, one of the corners is curling in the heat. You’ll have to fix that.
“You made me a bootleg seaside.”
“Don’t call it bootleg.” Jamie laughs.
“You printed the river picture.” You smile softly. Might’ve been your favorite from one of your first dates.
“You like that one a lot.” He shrugs again.
“You noticed that?”
“I notice loads of things.” He chuckles and then adds right after, giving you a look, “don’t make it weird.”
He reaches for the plates in your cabinet now, dishing some of the food out onto two. He looks patient and most of all he’s trying, of course he wasn’t going to let the person he’s seeing come home disappointed if he can help it.
“You’re a bit soft.” You joke softly as you lean in to press a kiss against his cheek now.
He snorts out a laugh and shakes his head, “Don’t be spreading that around. I’ve got a reputation as a difficult bastard to maintain.”
You just smile in response.
He slides a place into your hands, leaning your way to press the same kiss against your temple. “Sit. Eat, before you fall over on me.”
So you do. The sofa dips as you settle. The room hums around you, traffic drones out by the closed windows and music playing. The paper photos are lifting slightly at the edges. This may have been the best thing someone has ever done for you.
He joins you a few moments later with his own plate that he sets down on the coffee table to pour your wine glasses. He takes a sip of his before leaning back and stretching his arm along the back of the couch behind you, familiar fingers brushing along your shoulders like they have hundreds of times before.
You lean into his side.
He pulls you close and smiles, resting his head against yours. “Alright.” He smiles, “tell me all about how terrible your day was.”
summary: JQ Fic Exchange Valentine’s Day Bingo: Meet Ugly | You’re running late to work and your day takes a very unexpected turn.
warnings: a very unfortunate bout of almost committing vehicular manslaughter lmao
notes: I finished writing this with a Michael Bublé album playing in the background lmao. I’ve read it over once so I hope there aren’t any mistakes but feel free to let me know if there are! (This is set in 2017 lmao)
Your alarm didn’t go off this morning. Or maybe it did and you murdered the damn thing in your sleep. So you’re already late before your feet even hit the floor. Now, your phone reads, 8:47, in what feels like huge judgmental numbers while your shift starts at nine across the river.
“Brilliant.” You croak out to no one. Your voice sounds like you swallowed sandpaper the night before. That’s the last time you let them talk you into going out on a Sunday. The radiator clanks and the sky outside is gray and damp. You sit up so fast you nearly headbutt the wall beside you.
And from that moment on, everything goes wrong in small and escalating ways. The kettle spits instead of pours. Your toast burns on one side and not the other. You step in something wet in the kitchen in your socks. Your keys are not on the hook, nor in your bag, and they’re certainly not on the table. But because you apparently live like a raccoon with an insane mortgage, you find them in a hamper in the laundry room. By the time you actually make it out to the car, your hair is still a mess and your coffee is sloshing dangerously in a travel mug that absolutely lied about being leakproof.
The traffic is bad. Of fucking course it is. A bus blocks half the road, a cyclist screams at a taxi, and someone behind you honks loudly like it’s your fault the light is red. You mutter an apology to the universe as you edge through side streets you barely recognize. Your wipers squeak while they squeegee away the leftover drizzle. You’re already drafting an apology speech in your head— again— when you glance at the clock and make the decision that you’ve gotta fucking push it.
“Just this once.” You tell yourself as you take a quick glance at the four way stop in front of you. “Just go.” You mumble under your breath.
You roll towards the stop— not flying, but fast enough that when a figure steps into the crosswalk from your right, your stomach drops completely clean outta your ass.
You slam on the brake.
The car jolts to a stop, hard enough to throw your shoulder into the seatbelt you’re so thankful you’d snapped on. Coffee launches from the cup holder and baptizes the center console. The tires squeal and something in your backseat falls to the floorboards.
The man in the crosswalk stops dead in his tracks.
For one horrible second, he’s framed in your windshield. He’s wearing a dark coat, his hood is up, and he’s got headphones wrapped around his neck. You can see then exactly how close you came to actually hitting him. You throw the car into park and fling your door open.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry— are you okay?” Your voice comes out loud and breathless. Cold air hits your straight in the chest and you pull your jacket closer together.
He just stares at you.
He’s around your age, his hair dark and what looks like freshly cut. “I was at the sign.” He says softly, though you can sense the irritation as his brain catches up with what is unfolding in front of him. He looks up at the flashing WALK sign at the other end of the crosswalk. “…I mean, I was using the sign. That’s sort of the point of them.”
“I know.” You say and bite your lip, “I know. I saw you late… which is— bad, obviously— I know that part already.”
“Good.” He raises an eyebrow. “Strong argument there.”
A car behind you honks and you turn to the culprit, shouting. “I nearly killed a man, give me a fucking second!” When you turn back, he’s just looking at you— maybe deciding if you were really just as much of a disaster as you look like right now.
“Rough morning?” he asks.
“Historically bad.” You sigh heavily. “Like if I recited it, people would say it’s unrealistic.”
He huffs and rubs a hand over his face, laughing despite himself. It breaks the annoyed look on his face and replaces it with a little smile, “You always try vehicular manslaughter before 9 or am I just special?”
“Oh, that’s only for VIP pedestrians, obviously.” You chuckle. “There’s a membership card.”
“Do I get one?”
“A small one, yeah. I’ll make sure it’s laminated.”
He looks down at the front of your car and then at the crosswalk before back at you, “You’re blocking the junction.” He says with a chuckle. He smells a bit like cigarette smoke from this close. “What’s your name?”
You blink at him and sigh, “You want my name in case you decide to sue me later, huh?”
He laughs, “tempting.” He shrugs, “But no, I just like knowing the name of someone who nearly ended me.”
You tell him and he nods again, holding his hand out, peeking back over at the traffic starting to pull up behind your stopped car, “Jamie.”
You shake his hand and nod, “It’s… nice to meet you. Sorry about the attempted murder.”
Jamie smiles, “your braking reflexes are impressive.”
A hint of warmth is slipping into his expression now, like you both have decided how this is going to end up going and will be a funny story to tell later. A horn taps again behind you and Jamie chuckles.
“Go.” He says, taking a step back onto the curb. “Before you collect a second victim.”
You move towards the door of your car and pause just as you go to slip in. You look at him and smile, embarrassed, “I really hope the rest of your morning is less eventful.”
“I doubt it now.” He smiles and shrugs.
You can feel the heat crawling up the back of your neck as you get back into the car. Your heart still thudding ridiculously hard in your chest. Your hands are still shaky on the wheel. When you pull through the intersection— properly this time— you check your mirror and he’s still standing there.
Your phone buzzes at the light.
Next time try your brake first.
You just stare at it with wide eyes. The light turning green as you did. The next message arrives a few moments after.
You dropped this when you nearly killed me.
Attached is a photo of your work badge, that definitely had your new number sharpied onto the back so you didn’t forget it. He’s across the street now, and when you look at him he holds it up between two fingers with a little grin.
Your morning is one of the biggest disasters of your life. But maybe you’ve gotten something decent out of it.
summary: Corroded Coffin or Die Photo Prompt Server Challenge | A little over a week ago, Jamie made a confession while you were “sleeping”, now’s the time to let him know how you feel.
warnings: none that i can think of!
notes: You remember this fic? Jamie and his lady love are back. Feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes.
The smell of cheap lavender scented bubble bath is filling the room as the steam from your bath creeps it's way out into the hallway. The bathroom door is wide open, letting in the lamp light from the living room. You're sunk down low in the tub, your knees up breaking the surface. Your head is tipped back, resting against a tiled edge. The tiles themselves are awful. They're a dull ivory stamped with tiny pink flowers that are surrounded by green foliage. One of the tiles is cracked near the silver tap, a thin line running down through a rose.
Your eyes are closed when you hear your front door open. There's a pause and then the soft clunk of it shutting again. Keys rattle as they're hung on the hook.
"Babe?" Jamie calls, his voice echoing around your small living room and down the short hallway.
You don't move, nor do you open your eyes, you just tilt your head slightly and sink further into the water. You raise your voice just slightly and call out, "in here!"
You can hear the sound of each of his boots being shucked off and tossed to the floor mat by the door. Then socked feet shuffle a bit closer. You open your eyes just in time to see him appear in the doorway. He lets his eyes scan over you, taking you in properly for the first time in a few days. You've both been so busy with work, it's been hard to have a moment for each other. He takes in the steam curling up around you, the waterline so delicately hiding your body, your hair even slicked back with water. Something in his face softens as he leans his shoulder against the frame of the door.
"Jesus." He chuckles. "You look half dead."
You let out a tired laugh, eyes lingering closed a little too long when you blink. "Feel it."
"Work that bad?"
You shrug, the water and bubbles shifting around you. "Just… long, I guess."
He nods as he stands up, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders and dropping it somewhere out of view. He then fully steps into the bathroom. "Hate that." He says softly as he sits on the edge of the tub. His jeans are worn in at the thighs and he smells like the outside. Nose red from the cold. Cigarette smoke lingering to the fibers of his shirt.
You just smile, turning your head to look at him properly now. "How was yours?"
He exhales through his nose and scrubs a hand over his face, stretching slightly until his back pops and he groans. "Bit shit if I'm being honest. Supervisor was on one all day. Had a go at me for something I didn't even—" He cuts himself off with a small shake of his head, "doesn't matter."
You hum in response, your attention fully turned to him instead of the ceiling now. His knee bounces, once, twice, and then he sighs.
"I'm gonna sort it." He adds. "Not gonna be doing this forever. I'll find something better. Proper money. Somewhere we can…" He trails off, his eyes flicking towards you for a split second. Then his gaze falls to his hands.
You think about last week and your movie night on the couch. How he'd thought you'd fallen asleep amongst the car chases and explosions. How he talked about buying you a house. How he'd fix it up just how you wanted it. How he loved you. Your chest tightens just a little at the memory.
He's still talking. Something about one of the guys he works with, something mildly funny but you aren't listening anymore. You're just looking at him, studying the way his hands move when he explains things, or how his smile seems permanent when he's around you. Even the tiredness that stays tucked away behind his eyes.
"I love you."
There is no build up. You've never said that to a man before. It just slips out as naturally as it feels, you certainly didn't even really mean to. But it cuts him off right in the middle of his sentence. He stops.
"What?" He tilts his head slightly. Maybe he imagined that.
You blink, eyebrows raising. You're suddenly very aware of yourself. Of how abrupt that sounded and of how very naked you are in a hot bubble bath currently. You scramble for words, finding none for a moment. But then you manage to huff out a quiet laugh as you look down at yourself in the water. "I—" You take a deep breath, letting your eyes flick up to him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to just cut you off, but I just…"
Your eyes meet and he's staring at you harder than you could've imagined.
"You what?" He presses again, a bit softer now.
Your throat feels tight. If you weren't already clammy from the hot water you're soaking in you know your palms would've felt it by now. You take a deep breath, pushing through it, "I love you."
Then a moment stretches out long and wide between you. Long enough that it makes your stomach twist. Had he not really felt what he said? Did he change his mind?
And then his face breaks out into a grin. It's not subtle. It's so bright and full of relief, a hand brushed over his jaw. "Fuck." He breathes out, giddy enough that a small laugh escapes him. "You— are you serious?"
You have a smile tugging at your own lips and you cant really help it. You not. "Yeah, I am."
He shakes his head once, trying to reset his brain and maybe knock this smile away. "Right." He's still grinning, but he's also moving now. "Right, okay."
"Jamie, what—"
He doesn't answer, but what cuts you off is the denim covered leg that swings over the side of the tub.
"Jamie! What are you doing?!"
"Don't even start on me." He laughs, climbing fully in. His jeans darken, his t shirt, socks, everything. The water and bubbles sloshing dangerously around you. Some probably ends up on the floor.
"Are you insane?!" You laugh, but your eyes light up when he smiles at you.
"Probably." He responds as his hands cup your face, pulling you in. He kisses you right there. His lips warmed from the heat of the room, water splashing around you, water dripping down his arms. There are two voices, little breathless laughs caught between it. "I love you." He says it against your mouth, lips brushing with each word. Then between more kisses, he repeats, "I love you, I love you—"
You push at his chest, now covered by wet safety green. "You're ruining my bath." The smile on your face betraying your words.
