Our little secret | Jamie x GN!Reader | 28 Years Later | 800, T
AO3: Otaku_girl | Fics only account: @otaku-girl-ao3-fics | ATJ character masterlist | June of Doom 2026 masterlist
Fandom: 28 Years Later
Summary: “How long have you been like this?”
You were supposed to turn three seconds after the bite.
It’s been nearly three months.
Prompt: June of Doom day 18, today we have... How long have you been like this + weak
Our little secret
“How long have you been like this?”
Your stomach twists as Jamie breathes out the words that you have been fearing ever since the infected got its hands on you. He should be putting distance between you. Should be drawing his bow. He shouldn’t even be talking to you right now, as instincts take over. Survival over sentiment.
Survival over everything else.
Jamie’s hands are warm against your ankle, turning the twisted, heated flesh so that he can get a better look. You’re supposed to be making sure the clearing near the shore is still safe for a larger party to come across and gather firewood. With winter drawing close, it’s only a matter of time before it’s no longer safe to make the crossing, the cold making some of the infected sluggish while driving others to new hunting grounds. It’s always a precarious season, balancing the need to shore up the island’s food supplies with the risk of drawing the attention of wandering infected.
“Nearly three months,” you admit, the words like ash in your mouth.
His hands tighten, drawing a pained hiss from you. “Three months?”
It shouldn’t take more than three seconds. Yet somehow, here you are, still talking, and walking – well, limping – and undeniably you.
“One of the slow ones,” you admit, the shame of it lingering in your voice. A fast one would have been understandable. Or one of the berserkers. But to have been caught unaware by one of the crawling, bloated monstrosities? “Fell down a slope. Didn’t see one at the bottom, half under the leaves.”
You should have smelt it. You were too busy trying to impress Jamie. To show him that you could keep up, just as well as anyone else.
He peers down at it again, fascination warring with incredulity. Dark locks fall heavily around his face as he shakes his head. You’re two days into what should be no more than a five-day round trip. It wouldn't be difficult for him to leave you behind. It’s not like anyone would question what happened.
His thumb brushes over the swollen flesh.
“Three months…” Jamie murmurs. “And it’s only your ankle?”
“Mostly,” you confess. Jamie’s eyes snap back to yours in an instant. “Sometimes I feel tired. My leg goes weak now and then. Ankle’s not been the same since.”
It’s not enough for you to become a liability – you’d sooner get it over with and shoot yourself before dragging Jamie down with you – but it’s enough that, on some days, back home on the island, you can’t walk without a limp. On those days, you know better than to leave the house.
Silence stretches between you, heavy with everything he is trying not to say.
You shake your head. You don’t have anyone else you want to tell. Nobody who would miss you, should anything happen. Only Jamie.
“Good.” He stands, jacket rustling. The sound of the trees swaying draws his gaze, though it’s nothing more than the wind. It takes you a moment to realise he’s holding out his hand towards you. Watching. Waiting. “Let’s keep it that way.”
He pulls you upright carefully, slower now than before, slipping your arm over his shoulders once your weight threatens to buckle that bad ankle again. His grip stays firm around your waist as the two of you begin making your way back toward your makeshift camp.
It’s safer to stay up in the trees this time of year. Safer to turn in early, too, before climbing in the pitch black becomes its own death sentence.
“You’re not… going to tell anyone?” you ask, soft words breaking the stillness between you.
Blue eyes flick towards you, before slipping back towards the horizon. “What’s the point? ‘S not gonna help anyone. Might not let you back in. I reckon it can be our little secret.”
Something tight and painful eases in your chest. “Yeah. That sounds… yes. Thank you.”
He glances sideways at you then, expression twisting like he’s uncomfortable with the sincerity of it. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m still winning.”
You stare at him blankly. “Winning what?”
“You said you could beat three rabbits before we head back.”
A startled laugh escapes you before you can stop it. Jamie’s mouth finally quirks upward.
“Next round of drinks is still on you – even if that ankle slows you down.”
The urge to kiss him is almost overwhelming. Of all the people who could have found out, Jamie… you would have put money on Jamie shooting first, no questions asked. He squeezes your shoulder.
The tight ball of worry in your chest begins to unravel. Maybe there’s still hope after all. For getting through this. For your silly little crush on Jamie. Not everything is lost, after all.
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AO3: Otaku_girl | Fics only account: @otaku-girl-ao3-fics | ATJ character masterlist | June of Doom 2026 masterlist
He knew which song you put on repeat when you were upset but too stubborn to admit it. He knew you hated when your hands got cold so you had no choice but to reach out for his. He even remembered the job you swore you’d have when you were eight.
So it was almost insulting that you thought he wouldn’t notice the way your thighs shut when he called you “annoying”.
The way your teeth caught your lips and the way the air shifted before you mumbled a “sorry”.
It baffled him even more that you thought he wouldn’t notice how you started to purposely get on his nerves.
How you would purposefully misbehave in public just to feel his tight grip on your arm as he scolded you for being a “annoying whore.”
How you would laugh a little too hard at his friends when they were over just to see his expression tighten as he called you a slut.
It shocked him how deliberate you were, how you would constantly push his buttons just to get something—anything out of him.
How you’d apologize so sweetly afterwards, a pout forming on your lips as your hole clenched around nothing.
It surprised him really, the way you’d bite your lip when he threatened to make a mess out of you before forming a pout like he hurt your feelings.
Even the way you’d whimper when he threatened to hit you for just being so aggravating.
It surprised him how quickly you’d hide the shift in your legs and a whimper on the verge of spilling out of your throat behind a trembling apology and a carefully crafted frown.
It surprised Husband!Jamie even more how he’d get a boner from it every time.
You surprised him.
And maybe that’s why he loved you as much as he did.
- a/n: i know this is so ooc of jamie but in my imagination jamie would do anything to make me happy even if it’s being mean and abusing me 🥹😓.
₊˚୧ PAIRING: Jamie x f!reader || Truly Madly Deeply
₊˚୧ CATEGORIES: slice of life | fluff | one-shot
₊˚୧ HINT: You want to learn how to play an instrument, and Jamie becomes your teacher. In this fanfiction he is technically alive, however, it can be read as him as a ghost too since there's no real interaction with anyone but the reader.
₊˚୧ WORD COUNT: 2.1k
P.S. It's just a silly fanfic, not much going on. It's a warmup (sort of) since it's been a few weeks since I last wrote something.
"If you want to learn something, maybe, this time, try to look at my fingers instead of my lips?"
"I wasn't doing that! You had a wild lock of hair, and I didn't have the heart to stop you. That's all."
"An unprovoked excuse is a sign of guilt, darling." Jamie's eyes turned away from you, and he fixed the piano now, a soft smirk at the corner of his mouth, which got replaced quickly by a dramatic pout at your 'lie'. "Not to mention you said nothing about my hair after I quit playing."
"Because you didn't give me a chance to!"
"Right." He scoffed. "Is the flush in your cheeks also caused by my 'wild lock of hair'? No, must be the fact I called you out? Oh, no, perhaps it's because I asked you to examine the position of my fingers on the keys?"
The flush on your face became so hard to ignore that you pushed yourself up and walked away from the piano as Jamie turned his head in your direction, following you with a curious gaze. When your attention was away from him, he'd smile, yet as soon as you glanced at him, he'd pout and pretend to be 'upset' too. He enjoyed teasing you, especially when it was so undeniably obvious that you fancied him. Frankly, he was wondering how long it would take you to admit it, since you were acting quite silly at the moment, trying to avoid it.
"You know these lessons are paid by the hour. And I don't want you accusing me of ripping you off when you keep walking away every 10 minutes. I barely get to teach you half the amount I could, which is in my best interest, of course, but it's very tragic for you, darling." Jamie turned in the seat, tilting his head while you stood in front of him with a frown. "Besides, you really won't be learning how to play if you keep running off with excuses."
"You are insufferable."
"And yet you do ask me at the end of each lesson when the next one is going to be."
"Maybe it's because the piano is not my instrument."
Jamie pushed himself up from the piano stool with a deep sigh, lips thinning in a line as he held the instrument in his gaze for a moment. "Is that you telling me you wish to end our lessons here?"
"No, of course not. I'm just saying the piano is not my instrument." You shrugged, trying to avoid looking at him, because you knew if you had, the flush in your cheeks would worsen. He had been a tease before, but today he really went through with it. "Come on, you're the expert, suggest to me another."
"Darling, I am actually offended. You can't just say that. You must feel an instrument; I can't just tell you which to try. Not to mention, I can only play so many myself; if you're going for wind or percussion, you've lost me."
"Strings then." You said it quickly to prevent Jamie from trying to leave and cancel your lesson for the day. "I can always try strings. That sounds like a great option."
"What about strings? Which one do you want to try, darling? Because I hope you know there's not just one stringed instrument." Jamie's arms crossed, almost impatiently. "In fact, if you did think that, I'd just resign right now."
"You can't resign! This isn't that kind of job."
You knew Jamie was playing with you, but it still worried you regardless. Risking was not something you wanted to try with him. Plus, it took you quite a bit to realise most of the time his whiny and grumpy behaviour was not serious, and he was being a menace just for the sake of teasing you.
"You've come with your cello, right?" You suggested, seeing the case resting against your wall. He always showed up with it when he came for your lessons, so you suspected he must be going to practice himself before or after he tutored you. "Maybe I should try strings."
Jamie was reluctant at first. He turned to the case, then to you. He felt like this was suddenly becoming more personal. There was no doubt he loved the piano, but his connection to the cello was special in a way which he felt he couldn't explain to you unless he showed you.
You spotted his reluctance and worried you said something you shouldn't have. But before you could apologise, he had nodded and reached over for his case, carefully taking out his cello. When Jamie would play the piano, you noticed his gentleness, which was clearly one that only someone with a specific kind of artistic sensibility would have. When he sat with the cello against himself, the room felt different, in an unutterable way which compelled you to quiet down as if the presence of him and the cello in itself imposed it. Even exhaling felt like a disruption, and that tense mannerism you didn't even notice until Jamie's voice broke the silence.
"You can breathe. In fact, I'd advise you to do." He scoffed playfully as he lifted the bow and held it in his gaze for a moment, "It can do once more," he spoke to himself, then once again to you, "If you suffocate in here, I will be the main suspect, and that would be terribly unfortunate."
You exhaled, and he snickered, this time without words.
When he picked up his cello and began to play, you were transfixed. Jamie played the cello as if it were more than an instrument; it was as if each note he recreated was an emotion he had metamorphosed into sound. This time, you heeded his advice and followed the movement of his fingers. They danced across the strings with a precision that you could only describe as a direct connection to the instrument. It didn't feel technical at all, not like something he had 'learnt', but as something he felt beyond the rigid paradigms of teachings. Watching him was in itself an experience because it was the first time you saw the pure, unbridled artist as he approached his art. The musician, consumed by his music, became one with his instrument.
How long had it been? How many minutes had he played for? You couldn't tell. He was magnificent with the piano, but with the cello? It was completely different. The connection blew you off, and it was only when Jamie spoke that you came to.
"Have you decided then?"
Jamie finished his performance, which felt like it had lasted both a beat and an eternity at once. Such was the effect of his music that you deemed those minutes as a whirlwind of emotions you hardly thought yourself able to experience at once
"Decided?"
"Oh, you're hopeless, darling." Jamie sighed, brow raised as he shook his head, "Have you decided that you want to learn how to play the cello?"
"Oh, yes. Yes. I would like to, but I'm afraid that if I was terrible with the piano, with this I will be worse."
Jamie waved you over, putting aside the cello and taking something from his case, a container with a dark-hued substance which he then showed to you, studying your expression.
"Do you know what this is?"
"I believe it's rosin."
"Very good!"
"It was written on it."
Jamie's head dropped a bit as he exhaled with a groan. You couldn't help but chuckle.
"I was joking, I know what it's for."
"Darling, when you pull these stunts, you're making me second-guess if I should tutor you." The man walked over to your radio, using your home as if it were his own. You found that endearing in a way that he was so comfortable. Jamie tinkered with the device until it got it to play something. As Jamie made his return, you could tell by the voice that one of Frank Sinatra's songs was on.
He sat down on the ground and patted the spot next to him for you to sit too. "I will be frank, love, I'm not letting you touch my cello today. But, I will teach you something." He held the bow and the rosin, giving them to you. "You'll learn how to use these."
When he noticed you were sitting there frozen with the two in your hands, he grunted again, sliding behind you and guiding you to stay between his legs with your back against his chest. You squeaked and tried to squirm away, but Jamie's hands positioned themselves on your upper arms, and he held you still.
"Calm down, darling. I'm just teaching you how to hold the bow. Here..." Jamie's hand slid carefully down your arm to your hand. He guided the bow in the correct position as well as the rosin. You were rigid at first, tense, but Jamie cooed softly by your ear, without any trace of his usual grumpiness.
"Let yourself loose. Not entirely... keep the hold, but not too tense. God, darling, if you keep squeezing it like that, you'll snap it in half." He scolded softly, guiding the movement with his own hand ontop of his. After a few awkward attempts, the gesture became a bit more fluent, smoother. He wasn't complaining anymore, as he was still keeping his hands on yours, despite no longer guiding your strokes. His head rested on your shoulder while you continued the motion, his eyes on his bow as you rosined it.
It might have been seconds. Maybe minutes, you didn't know. You heard the melody on the radio change, and Jamie was still leaning on you. As much as you wanted to keep going, you felt you might be overdoing it with his bow by now, so you cleared your throat shyly.
Jamie caught the hint, hands drawing back and head leaving the spot on your shoulder. You caught something in his mannerism, a kind of embarrassment that he masked with seriousness.
"Yes, that'd be enough. You did well, for your first time."
You smirked, this time Jamie being the one to turn away, flustered.
"That was not what I meant."
"An unprovoked excuse is a sign of guilt, darling. Isn't that how it went?" You mocked, while he snatched the bow away from you with his brow furrowed.
"I think this lesson is over."
You didn't say anything, waiting for him to pack up his cello and bow while he equally waited for you to mention it. When you wanted to meet again, you had to see him again, right? As he packed his cello, and you didn't say anything, he began to stress a little, so he stalled, drawing out as much time as he could, pretending to pack.
"Quite a tedious job, huh? Putting the cello in its case." You smirked, knowing why he was hindering himself.
He grumbled under his breath, a positive answer.
Neither of you said anything until Jamie had to conclude packing. Only then did you give in and stop teasing him, only when he was about to put his hand on the doorknob.
"So... next week, same time?"
Jamie turned to you, he beamed, and you caught a glimpse of it before he hid it, masking it with his usual nonchalance. You were starting to think Jamie was trying to play hard to get.
"I'll think about it," but as his hand found the doorknob, he nodded, "Maybe..." He started, clearing his throat, "I mean, I can see you want to learn, so I was wondering, if you didn't maybe want to make that twice a week?"
"Oh, I don't know if I can afford that," you started, biting the inside of your cheek to hide a smile.
Jamie cleared his throat, eyeing you with a hopeful expression.
"No, no." He started, "I mean, that would be on me. You know, I see your enthusiasm and... I mean, you are unbearable-" He grumbled, looking away.
"But I would enjoy visiting you more often." Jamie gulped. "...to familiarise you with... the cello. It is a tricky instrument. You'd need more time to get used to it... Of course."
You giggled at his stuttering, the way he was still trying to hold onto the lie. He saw you giggle and scrunched his brow.
"I understand, Jamie, don't worry. I'd also like it if you visited more often."
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"While we are together, I will put daisies in your hair, to cherish your liveliness and innocence."
୨♡୧ ｡ Outside in a meadow, on vacation with Jamie. A picnic. You let him complain about the quality of the sandwiches before he nestled his head on your lap while you told him stories and stroked his hair. As you did, Jamie reached over, pointing at the daisies growing in patches around you. After rolling your eyes, you pushed yourself up and picked a few, then returned and, with Jamie's head in your lap once more, you sprinkled his hair with them.
୨♡୧ ｡ You kept one, however, starting to pick each petal, humming. "He loves me, he loves me not..." Petal after petal until it landed on the last. He loves you not.
୨♡୧ ｡ Hearing your sombre expression at the petal's decisiveness, Jamie pushed himself up and held your cheek, dispelling the foolish game at once.
"No. He loves you."
"And if something ever happens, I'll replace them with forget-me-nots, so you know that I'll never fail to remember you."
୨♡୧ ｡ A cello case propped against the wall, no sound other than the occasional creaking of floorboards as the rodents rummaged by. No light illuminated the room, but the faint beam of moonlight which prodded in through drawn curtains. Dust sparkled in the translucent ray, casting a shadow behind the case. No inhabitants, no living being other than the rodents and a restless musician's soul.
୨♡୧ ｡ He slumped down, dropping against the source of light, running a hand through his hair, then letting it fall. His eyes nearly closed, his head lulled to the side. Jamie embraced himself, and as he hovered forward, from his hair fell a few petals.
₊˚୧ PAIRING: Jamie x f!reader || Truly Madly Deeply
₊˚୧ CATEGORIES: fluff | comedy
₊˚୧ WARNING: none, maybe just Jamie being a cutesy.
₊˚୧ WORD COUNT: 200
"I can't believe you did not recognise Shostakovich. How can you not? He is iconic, truly so."
"Darling…"
୨♡୧ ｡Jamie had his arms crossed over his chest, embracing himself in his coat, with his pouty expression on his face. His moustache embraced his upper lip, making him look far more adorable than a childish ghost-man like him should.
"Okay, what about him? You have to guess him. A sweet, profound soul this one."
"I don't know…"
"That's Saint-Saëns. Darling, you are starting to disappoint me."
୨♡୧ ｡Jamie stared at you matter-of-factly, sighing deeply and tilting his head to the side. You rest your head on your palm, elbow propped against the armrest of the couch. The cellist showed you a third.
"And this one?"
"Dvořák?"
"Good guess, but no. You should know me better by now, darling. That's Jamie Jr."
୨♡୧ ｡Jamie grinned up at you as he presented to you his three pet rats, which he befriended while haunting the flat you were currently inhabiting with him. Your grumpy, unpredictable ghost, who decided to name the rats he was supposed to scare based on his favourite composers.
"But you're not playing favourites, right?"
"… I would never do such a thing, sweetheart."
