#day21

The day had been tiresome. Not in a way that was laborious. But in a way that had been tedious. 

And all throughout the day. 

All that Jamie had wanted to do. 

All that he had thought about doing throughout training. 

Was to have you within arm’s reach. 

It was true. 

That as soon as you had stepped out of the bedroom, dressed in pyjamas, Jamie was right by your side, pulling you to the couch, where you had now been sitting cosily for the past few hours. 

His head tucked in your lap, as his arms are wrapped around your waist. 

While he acted as your personal weighted blanket. 

Molded perfectly for you and your comfort. 

Subconsciously at some point your hand had drifted to settle atop his head, mindlessly running your fingers through his hair. 

You could’ve sworn that he was asleep. 

How soundly settled he was atop you. Eyes drifted shut, as his body melded against yours. 

The tension of the day finally leaves his body as he relaxes, as the stress simply melts away. 

Your eyes fixated upon the TV as Sandra Bullock moves you by her performance. 

Hands begin to stop its movements as you become enthralled by the scene. Frozen in place. 

And then the smallest. 

Quietest. 

Tiniest.

Almost imperceptible of noises escapes Jamie. 

A tiny whine leaves his mouth as he exhales. 

Eye peering open. 

“Why’d ya stop eh?” He mumbled softly. 

Gaze flickering down to meet his, you raise a brow. 

“Stop what?” 

He tilts his head, “Stop–ya know?” He gestures to his head. 

Only furthering your confusion. 

“Use your words, Jamie,” You inquired once more. 

Sighing, he replies, eyes furrowed in confusion, “Why’d ya stop brushing your fingers through me’ hair?” 

A small quirk of your lips appears. 

Amusedly you respond, “What, do you like that or something?” 

“Maybe,” he bit his lip. Before admitting, “It was really relaxing, ya know…having ya hands brush through me’ hair…comforting”

Grinning, you lean down to brush your lips against his temple. As he leans closer to you, shifting to catch your lips with his. 

Soft and gentle as your lips glide against one another, before you draw back. Leaning once more against the couch. 

“So could ya? Ya know, keep doing that–” he asks once more, feeling a little vulnerable to express such a simple desire, such a mundane want, before mumbling out, “Only if ya want to. I don’t expect ya to do anything ya don’t want to…”

Swiping your fingers across his cheeks before they settle once more through his thick locks, your hands moving gently. 

Deftly as they card through the soft hair. Brushing out any little knots with a gentle tenderness. 

Care dripping into each action. 

“So long as you promise you’ll do the same for me some day,” You whisper softly. 

He hums in agreement, a chill running down his spine from the sensation. 

“Anything for you love,” he murmurs. 

He sighs once more as his eyes flutter shut. Head nuzzling further into your stomach. 

A low rumble emanates from his chest. Soothed by the feeling of your hands running through his hair. 

A warmth blooms through your chest. 

In between all the madness, all the flashing lights and chaos involved with dating a footballer.

From the onslaught of the media. To the inane questions the press would hound you with. 

It was all worth it. 

Even if those things did give you a headache at times…

These moments made it all worth it. All worth the headaches. As a moment alone with Jamie made the tensions melt from your shoulders, made the ache in your brain dampen and fade. 

These were your favourite moments. 

The quiet peace harbored between you both. 

No false pretence. 

No veneered smiles. 

Just a simple peace. 

A simple love. 

Entirely yours to enjoy. 

As minutes pass of your fingers gently massaging his head, his breathing evens. The steady rise and fall of his chest as his body moves closer and closer to a state of slumber.

A gentle smile upon your lips from the sight. 

A sight reserved for your eyes only in the bubble of your love. 

The softest of mumbles escapes him. 

“Love you” 

Smiling at him, “I love you too,”you whisper softly to your sleeping boyfriend. Your hands stop while you duck to kiss the top of his head. 

While he shifts gently to pull you further into his arms, spooning you as you both settle in. 

As the credit sequence rolls. 

You and Jamie both now soundly asleep.

Neither wanting to be anywhere else but within each other’s arms.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little piece, just a bit of mundane sweetness with Jamie. I imagine he'd love his hair being brushed through, (honestly tho, who doesn't) also you could literally picture any Sandra bullock romantic film of your choosing (I pictured The Lake House - cause that's a personal fave of mine). Let me know what you thought ✨ Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 Check Out my Jamie Tartt Series; Never Too Late Here! Feel free to check out my overall Masterlist here

Through the eye holes of his mask, she burned so strong and fierce, even in her depleted humiliation. Her mis-placed bravery poured up through her defiant words.

He would see her humbled, revealed for the weak woman he had found her to be. Without her bending, she would be nothing.

Deliberately, Amon walked behind Beifong. He was glad of the gloves that kept him from feeling the soft skin of her neck or the depth of the wrinkles on her forhead.

He reached inside her form, stifled her chi, and watched her gape up at the sky.

Rather than let her collapse, he steadied her on her knees as his faithful brought forward the rest of his… incentives.

She gasped, and tried to stand up. But he kept his hand on her shoulder, and extended his powers to keep her in place.

The woman was gagged, but she was able to keep the baby silent.

The youngest one, he didn’t bother with threats. The child was clearly terrified.

Once purified, he seemed to faint.

Beifong shouted some meaningless word.

The next one up in size seemed to have inherited Beifong’s glare, even if they weren’t actually related. While he was a bit unclear on the details, it no longer mattered.

He looked back at Beifong.

So much water was running down her face, he couldn’t tell if she was crying.

“Tell me.”

“Amon, don’t do this!”

The second child collapsed over her brother’s still body.

“Amon!”

The oldest child raised her shoulders and stared back at him calmly, even though Beifong continued to scream behind him, her voice breaking.

The child’s bravery did not outlast her purification.

The last airbender was clearly trying everything he could to stir the air around himself. But it could not break the chains around his wrists and ankles. It could not disturb the hold Amon had over his body.

Amon turned and looked at Beifong one final time.

“Tell me.”

With a lurch, she broke his hold on her, but that only gave her the freedom to crash forward on her face, still screaming incoherently.

The man on his knees strained against Amon’s power, but had only a fraction of the will. Silently, his bending fled, banished from the world.

Amon turned his back on the people who once had called themselves “masters.”