Never Too Late (Part 1)
Jamie Tartt x Reader
Find My Jamie Tartt Masterlist here! Inspired by a random tumblr post; (That I would tag if I could find it!) Unknown Number: “Get your fucking shit together and act like an adult” Response: “Think you have the wrong number but you’re right” Warnings: Strong Language (sorry Phoebe…just put it on Roy’s tab)
Word Count: ~1.6k
This year was not going well for Jamie…
Well it was – until he decided to fuck it up just to piss off his dad…
Now he was left hung to dry.
Voted off a reality tv show he never gave a fuck about,
Booted off the Manchester team
Abandoned by his one true passion, now left aimless.
His manager waffling on and on about how he could stop playing football, and just start doing sponsored shit or whatever bullshit he could pull out of his ass…without ever truly living out his full potential on the field.
He just didn’t know where to go.
Now he sits in a club, late on a Thursday night.
People all around him in a sea of movement, lights flashing low and moody, casting a glow of anonymity on everyone around him as the music throbs in his ears.
He has never felt so alone.
Weirdly his mind can’t stop thinking about his time in Richmond…all the possibilities he could’ve had.
That brief moment as they bonded as a team in the most unusual of ways as they warded off bad luck.
He had felt seen and accepted for a moment…in a way he’d rarely felt before.
A sickening weight laid heavy in his gut as his thoughts drifted to all the ways he was a fucking prick even when he didn’t need to be…
Honestly he didn't know what he was doing.
A buzz vibrates in his pocket, bringing him out of his numbed state
He pulls his phone out of his pocket to discover a message from an unknown number
???: [ Get your fucking shit together and act like an adult ]
A shiver ran up his spine as his eyes read the text on his screen
He had no fucking idea if it was the vanilla vodka messing with his vision or if someone deity from above got his phone number
Jamie had never thought himself to be superstitious but this seemed like a fucking sign if he had ever seen one.
Without realising his fingers twitched and started typing a reply
Jamie: [ Think you have the wrong number but you're right ]
He downed the last of his drink, before standing to leave the club.
A rush of the cool evening air hits him as he exits,
???: [ Shit ] ???: [ I’m so sorry! That was meant for my friend ] ???: [ … ] ???: [ but, good luck getting your shit together then? ] ???: [ :) ]
Jamie let out a laugh as he read the response. A genuine laugh. Something he hadn’t done in a while, it felt almost foreign.
Jamie: [ thanks ] Jamie: [ hope your friend gets their shit together too ]
For once, Jamie felt like things might turn out ok.
???: [ 👍 ]
But first he had to get his shit together
Time to visit Richmond.
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It was a just one of those nights
A Thursday night to be exact.
Your work day had ended hours ago, wrapped up and clocked out by 5 pm
Now you're seated at home, stretched lazily among couch cushions, just allowing your body to decompress.
The faint scent of tiger balm emanates from where it was gently rubbed into your skin to ease your muscle’s tensions. Intertwined with the soothing smells of the candles that were burning.
Lights dimmed as a lamp casts a warmth light.
A film plays on tv, something comforting, a film you had watched a hundred times and would likely watch a hundred times more.
A picture of comfort and ease.
…but your attention is elsewhere.
It had been a long season…
Richmond were stuck in a rut. Not winning but not losing.
It simply felt like the Greyhounds were chasing their own tail.
The consolation prize?
A tie.
7 times in a row…
Whilst you weren't part of the immediate team, you felt just as drained.
You had been a part of the Greyhound family for well over a year now, serving as their physio and field medic.
Sprains, bruises, scrapes or worse, you were there and ready to work.
What could’ve easily been just an isolating job, quickly turned into a heavy social investment.
All because of one person.
Ted.
It was honestly a really a bright moment in your job.
He had made you feel a part of the team, and a very necessary one at that.
Ensuring the team environment he was cultivating, included being respectful and appreciative of your work both on and off the field.
It was great to witness his efforts begin to shape the player’s behaviours on and off field – seeping into their performance on the pitch.
You’d like to believe that you knew the players pretty well by now.
From their typical needs and likely injuries, to the exercises you should recommend them. Ted’s insistence that the team be more open and friendly to you and the other members in your staff, had simply made your job even easier, and more enjoyable.
One of the most unlikely friendships you had fostered, was with Mr ‘he’s here! He’s there! He’s every fucking where!’
Roy Kent, himself.
His stubborn character was not an easy feat to overcome.
Your strange friendship was actually the reason you had had the opportunity for the new job with the Greyhounds.
All through a connection from a yoga class.
Your neighbour, Sandy, a lovely – if not a little gossipy – woman in her mid 50s. Who you often enjoyed chatting with now and again, would get you in touch with many of her friends to give her a little extra work.
In Sandy’s words “Y/N simply worked magic. Any aches and she’d help relieve it just like that”
And just like that, Sandy got you in touch with Roy, Sandy’s classmate from their weekly yoga & rosé session.
The humour wasn’t lost on you when you had first met, as you were not expecting this gruff and fit man.
The first few sessions he’d had with you treating his knee, all communication was simply a culmination of grunts and clipped words.
But with a few choice suggestions and comments, the lack of regard for who he was and you just making jokes despite it sometimes feeling like you were talking to a brick wall.
You had slowly made your way into being his friend.
Conversation flowed easily
To the point where your rantings about your current job and the strains it was having on you – made Roy think.
The following session he suggested you work for the Richmond Football Club.
It had certainly caught you off guard,
He just listed all the reasons it could be better; better hours, better pay, closer to home, limited clients you’d actually get to know…
…A week later, you were settling into your new workspace adjoining the locker room of the Richmond Football club.
It was great, you loved the new routine.
Treating the players from any recovering injuries, being present during the games and training as an onsite medic, it was a great change of pace.
The past year had been interesting to say the least.
Now what was once your best buddy at work.
Was now no longer at work.
Roy had left at the end of the last season.
Leaving you all alone in the club he insisted you work for.
Not that you didn’t foster or grow friendships with the other players or other staff on site.
…It simply felt off.
It was strange being at the club and not hearing his gruff responses.
You did your best to reach out to him, and well at the start it was fine – you would see him often enough to help out with his knee recovery, also hang out with him and Phoebe.
Keeley also was a big factor in keeping touch.
But as the months dragged on, your catch ups and talks would lessen more and more.
To the point it made you so frustrated with the stubborn asshole!
As if he was trying to cut out the people from his old life.
It was honestly so childish
Which is what had brought you to now.
Angrily typing out a text for him
Y/N: [ Get your fucking shit together and act like an adult ]
What you did not anticipate however, is your messed up contacts in your new phone.
What you thought was Roy’s number was actually someone else.
Just because of a few misplaced digits.
???: [ Think you have the wrong number but you’re right ]
A flush of embarrassment washed over you, shit!
Your mind raced with possible ways to make this already awkward text chain, less strange, and all you could come up with was shit?
Y/N: [ Shit ] Y/N: [ I’m so sorry! That was meant for my friend ] Y/N: [ … ]
Re-reading their reply, the embarrassment subsides, making you pause. Think about what they could’ve meant.
Maybe this little accident was meant to happen.
Y/N: [ but, good luck getting your shit together then? ] Y/N: [ :) ]
You honestly hoped that whoever this person was, would be able to take this message into practice.
???: [ thanks ] ???: [ hope your friend gets their shit together too ]
Now to get back to finding Roy’s number so that you could tell that asshole to get his shit together and stop ignoring you like a little kid.
Not realising how your message had spurred into motion a chain of events that couldn’t be stopped.
That wouldn’t be stopped.
Not realising how your simple mistake would result in one of the best decisions you had ever made.
Even if it might take a little time to figure that part out.
One day.
Eventually.
Soon enough.
You would learn that your blunt message.
Words intended to push Roy to be fucking better. To stop being such a fucking recluse.
That those very words.
Would lead Jamie to you.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the first of my first Jamie Tartt fic, there will be more parts to come (probs another 1 or 2; UPDATE theres now a lot more parts). It's sort of been sitting in my drafts for ages, so I thought to put it out, might get me motivated to finish it 🤷♀️. Let me know what you think about it, and if you'd like to be tagged. Read Part 2: To Start Again Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 Feel free to check out my overall Masterlist here
