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stxrliasfics · 1 year

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Catharsis - Jamie Campbell Bower Smut

Pairing: rockstar gn!reader x jamie (enemies to lovers kinda sorta ???)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.3k

(just now realizing i never explained: D/N stands for “Drummer’s name” and B/N stands for “Bassist’s name” sorry just in case you were confused LMAO)

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A/N: I have returned from hiatus with something new!!! To start off the new year, I present to you this wonderful masterpiece that was really intended for my two beautiful friends (they're big Jamie enthusiasts!)

Some say it’s better to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. That was utter bullshit to you. And maybe you were too callow to seemingly miss the meaning, but if your enemies were burning alive right in front of you, you wouldn’t even piss on the fire to put them out. Especially if it were Jamie Bower.

You’ve known him since you joined your band, replacing the former lead guitarist. There was limited interaction between you two from the start. 5 years since then and there has still never been a praising comment from him. It was always constant nitpicking at your solos or the way you played your parts entirely. He didn’t want to cooperate with you at all. You’ve come to realize that.

“You two need to get it together,” said your bandmate, D/N. The morning had started off just fine at rehearsal until Jamie was yelling about you continuously missing a note. “We have two more days until we play this fucking show and you’re acting like babies.”

Jamie glared your way as if the message was really intended for you. As if YOU were the problem. You glared right back at him, mentally boring holes into his skull with your bandmates in the crossfire of tension.

He took the strap of his guitar off his shoulders, threw the instrument down, and muttered something as he stomped off stage.

“Dick,” you called. The sound engineers came running with their clipboards and exasperated looks on their faces.

“Can someone go after him? We’ve barely made it through set,” One of them argued — a burly bald guy with a prominent Yorkshire accent. D/N hurried off the stage in pursuit of Jamie. You turned the volume off on your guitar, set it by the wall of amps, and sat down on a stool. Truly at a loss, you didn’t know which direction to take. You didn’t want to stay somewhere you weren’t welcome. Five years was long enough — but you couldn’t just give up that easily. You didn’t want to be seen as weak, you didn’t want to sulk around anymore and hope to gain the approval of someone so cruel. So you got up and turned your guitar back up.

When D/N came back with no Jamie in sight, relieving air filled your lungs. Your body relaxed.

“Come on, we’ve got a show to play, yeah?” You put your guitar strap back over your shoulder.

“But Jamie—,” B/N started.

“He ran off somewhere,” said D/N. “Got in his car and drove off.”

“We can practice without him,” you said, turning to the sound engineers. “Go on. We’re ready.”

The last few days of rehearsal surprisingly went by with no problems. There was a “Hurry up and get it done” frame of mind settling into everyone, so there was no time for Jamie to start throwing a tantrum. Neither of you two looked at each other for those last few days. You focused your energy more on your excitement for the big day as you stared out into the stadium, imagining all of the bright faces drunk on echoing notes ringing their ears. Everything was good until the show on Thursday.

For more content catered to the fans, you thought it would be a good idea to strap a tiny camera to your forehead, showing a different point of view of your playing. The headband that held the camera was unbearable. So much so that you could feel the elastic digging into your skin, itching below your hairline. Refraining from clawing at your skin, you kept your focus on your fingers dancing on the fretboard and the stinging in your muscles.

During the last song of the night, the last hurrah for the closing show, your eyes closed briefly and your body was thrown into the shockwave of the moment. When they opened, smoke carried off your vision and everything felt lighter. Before you knew it, you were flying above clouds of hands carrying you away. The exhilaration pumping cold through your veins, you lost awareness until you were brought back to the forefront. Every piece of you…except for the camera.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Jamie’s yells could’ve been heard all throughout backstage as he stormed after you, face red with anger. The show was done and everyone was starting to pour out.

You whipped around at him. “It was an accident!” The elastic strap was still itching the skin of your forehead.

“Hey, chill out,” said B/N, stepping in the middle with outstretched arms to hold you two apart. Jamie smacked their hand away.

“The camera. They lost the camera!” he was still glaring at you, harder than ever before.

“It was an accident! We can get it back.”

At this point, Jamie had stepped away from the boundary B/N placed and was getting closer to you. Hell’s blaze burned bright in his eyes. “It wouldn’t have gotten lost anyway if you weren’t being such a dumbass.”

“Get out of my face,” your voice dropped low and your eyes hardened. He took some steps back, jaw still clenched, and urged out his last word as always.

“You are the most useless thing that’s ever happened to this band.”

You watched him edge back out to the stage where fans cheered on his return. Your bandmates surrounded you with somber expressions, yet avoided the crossfire.

Apparently, the camera was found, but no one had told you that. When you arrived back to your flat the next morning, you had closed yourself up in your bedroom and slept the pooling anxiety away. Jamie’s words hit right at your pride. Useless rung in your ears to the beat of his tone. And you were really starting to believe that, but there was no way you were letting this continue on any further. Screw Jamie. Screw the band. You were out.

The biting wind of mid-November had come in for another time. Streets were covered in cold rain — normality for England. It had been raining nonstop for a few weeks. Cleary skies seemed rare. Your days lazing around the house were all the more dreary. With your band on a short break, you were left to dwell in your bed. Your final thoughts forced you to make a stomach-churning move — a compulsive decision that could possibly break the bridges.

You were going to talk to Jamie.

The night before, you were pacing the room with your phone in your hand. Every thought that bubbled up into a word didn’t make sense. Every sentence frayed into a mere memory. It would’ve been difficult to get up with him, considering that you two weren’t really on speaking terms. He did reply to your message hours later. With a thumbs up emoji. You started to get irritated but a thumbs up was better than no response at all.

You planned to meet up at a cafe near your flat that morning. It was still rainy, so you made sure to grab an umbrella. You rehearsed everything that you were going to say over in your head, silently mouthing it to yourself as you reached the place. Jamie hadn’t arrived yet. There was no sign of his light blonde hair given. You ordered a small coffee to hold your patience in the meantime.

Heat transferred from the paper cup, warming your frostbitten hands. If it weren’t for all the eyes around you, you would’ve used it to warm your face as well. Possibly fans trying to scope out. Their eyes left you as soon as the cafe’s door jingled and Jamie walked in.

His hair was tied up and he was wearing all black. Standard Jamie attire. Further more, this made him recognizable amongst the teen fans gawking at you two. You could see his hardened demeanor although he tried to be stoic. When he sat down in front of you, your throat had dried up and everything you wanted to say flew south. You went bitch.

“Hi, Jamie,” was all that could come out. It didn’t even sound like you. All shaky and weak. Sometimes confrontation wasn’t your strongest suit. It didn’t help that you couldn’t see his eyes. Was he looking at you or behind you?

“About the camera,” you tried your best not to stutter. “I’m sorry for being ignorant about it.

A short exhale meant to be sarcastic laughter escaped from Jamie. His face stayed blank.

“You’re not going to say anything?” you poked on.

“What do you want me to say?” his voice was foreign. Softer than what you were used to but still housed a cold undertone.

“The way that you’ve been treating me lately. I’d like an explanation for it.”

He looked out of the window with his arms crossed on the table, not saying a word.

“What’s your problem with me, mate? I work my ass off and you act like I do nothing. If the camera thing was the last straw then once again, I apologize. I seriously didn’t mean to do it.”

He looked from the window to the table, watching it in a few seconds of silence. The whole time you watched and waited.

“I don’t have a problem with you,” he said. Thinking you had imagined it, you eyed him in confusion.

“You wouldn’t just shit on me for nothing, then.”

He only gave you a shrug. You probed further.

“What is it? What do I need to change for you to like me?” you hissed. “What’s your problem with me?—”

“Excuse me. We’re big fans of your music,” Two girls who looked like they were no older than 15 came up to your table. “Could we please have a picture?”

“I’m so sorry, we’re in the middle of a private meeting,” you apologized. The girls frowned and issued profuse apologies for interrupting you two before Jamie butted in.

“We can give you our autographs if you have something for us to sign, though!”

Once again you had to do a double take as Jamie was now smiling. He sounded so sweet. Of course, that was the mask always on display for anyone outside of the band. He held a genuine smile when talking to the girls, taking in every word they said to him. When the girls left, however, he returned to his normal self. You wondered how he made it seem so genuine. Maybe he wasn’t just faking it with them.

“So?” you said. He turned back to you.

“So?” he said. That nonchalant tone of voice irked the hell out of you. He didn’t care. Was he even listening to you?

“I want an explanation. An apology. Something!”

Jamie shrugged again. It took all your might not to smack the shit out of him right then and there.

“Fine,” Gritting your teeth in uproaring anger, you began to sit up with your still full coffee in hand. “I’m out of the band.”

You pushed the door to the cafe open, holding back the hard lump in your throat and trying to take a deep breath before it all went out. You had let it all go. Everything you worked hard for. You regretted it, but it didn’t matter. You could get anywhere on your own. Fuck everything.

Ever since that day at the cafe, there had been no contact between you or anyone from the band. Radio silence. It wasn’t until one Saturday evening that B/N called about a party. You had no plans to go out. Still, it wouldn’t have hurt to show your face. You were sure your bandmates hadn’t known about your self-dismissal.

You got ready at 9:00, 15 minutes before you were to meet up with them. Silently, you hoped that a certain someone wouldn’t be there. Really, you didn’t want to face anyone right now. Something about it was too embarrassing.

All of your friends were meeting up at a nightclub. Big and fancy, it was. One of the biggest in the city, perhaps. Only high-profiled people filled it up. Your band had played here before.

It was one of the club's usual busy nights. Anything that you could think of went down here. It was a chance for everyone to go buck wild and let loose for one night before they got up in the morning with a bottle of aspirin and an unkempt tie. For these to be important people in the industry, you’d think they’d be more civilized. Then again, you thought of what industry you were apart of. Yeah. A band manager snorting coke off of a pornstar’s chest wasn’t surprising.

Through sweaty bodies and seizure-inducing lights, you couldn’t see your bandmates at all. You dialed B/N’s number and hoped that they would be able to hear you over the thumping music. During which, some drunk asshole had bumped into you rather harshly, nearly knocking your phone out of your hand. You gave the guy a side-eye and held the phone up to your ear.

“Hey,” B/N’s voice came through the speaker after the second dial tone. “You on your way?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” you yelled over the music. “Where are you?”

“V.I.P. room. It’s at the back,” they said. “Fair warning, though—”

“What?!” you covered one ear with your index finger to try and hear better.

“I’ll just tell you when you come over. I’ll be waiting outside of the curtain.”

Their voice was replaced by the beep of the call ending. You huffed out a sigh of annoyance, still pushing past a bunch of people. You finally saw the V.I.P. lounge and B/N where they said they would be. They waved you over.

“Hey,” you said. This area of the club was quieter since there weren’t any speakers nearby.

B/N looked to be on their toes. You couldn’t put your finger on it. It was like they wanted to tell you something but it wouldn’t get past their lips.

“What’s up?” you spoke again.

“Jamie’s in there,” they said lowly. As soon as those words left their mouth, the purple curtain shielding the V.I.P. lounge drew back. Your eyes shifted to an emerging Jamie holding a giggling person's hand. He didn’t look up at you. Neither of them did. You rolled your eyes.

“So?” B/N said.

“So,” you shrugged. “I’m not going to let that ruin my night.”

Again, you tried to seem nonchalant. In truth, WANTED a reaction. Just a simple glance would do. You wanted to be seen. Maybe just to shoot him an even meaner look than what he would’ve given you. And you knew that he had seen you. Why wasn’t he saying anything? No thoughts on the meeting from a few weeks ago at all?

To further prove your point that you didn’t care (and why would you?), you wasted the night away by downing drinks. Not too many, but enough to get you a little buzzed so that you could take on the rest of what the night would bring. You sat in your invisible bubble at the bar, contemplating exactly why you would care. Why it was so important to get Jamie’s attention. You downed a shot of your drink. It fired up your insides in a quick flash, starting from the tip of your ears and down. There was no use in thinking about this. What more could you do?

Floating into your absent land, the smell of spicy cologne filled your nose. You felt someone lean into you from the side and whisper in your ear.

“I need to talk to you,” the voice said. You turned to see it was Jamie. Shadows danced in his piercing eyes, the same way they did whenever he was trying to be intimidating.

“What do you want?” you said in a monotone.

“Please. I’ll be quick.”

The two of you disappeared to the upstairs lounge in the club. There was a bar up here too, occupied by people having more civilized and controlled conversations. You ambled over to the black couches nearby and took a seat, Jamie sitting beside you. You stayed in awkward silence for what seemed like forever. From beside you, the man was engaged in thought, trying to find something to say. He had his hands clasped as if he were saying a prayer and held it close to his mouth.

I don’t have all day, you mused. His sigh filled your thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” he started off. He wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were trained on the floor.

You waited for more, then said, “How do I know you mean it?”

“No, I do. I really do mean it.”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” you said, looking at him. “Remember?”

“I don’t hate you,” he replied. Not at all.”

There was a flash of amusement on your face. That was the only emotion you could find.

With another sigh, he repeated like a broken record, “I don’t hate you, Y/N. Quite the opposite.”

You quirked a brow as if to tell him to go on. He wanted to. His lips were moving as if grasping for something in the air and pulling it to his cords.

“I-I don’t know,” his voice went low.

“You know what, you’re a dickhead,” you took another sip of the sharp tequila. “Good job. Good fucking job.”

“On what?”

“You’re just…so hard to figure out. I don’t get you.”

“I didn’t mean what I said that night. When I said you were useless to the band and all that. That’s not true at all.”

A satisfied grin was urging on your lips as you had gotten what you wanted. You hid it with the rim of your cup. Down went the last drop and you set the cup down.

“I admire you, Y/N,” he went on. “A lot, actually.”

“So what’s up with you being a dick to me then?”

“I guess…I’m jealous of you.”

The way his words edged out so hesitantly, you didn’t believe it. Because why in the world would Jamie Bower be jealous of you? But his demeanor, the softness in his body language — if he were playing a joke on you, he did a damn good job at acting.

“Oh, bullshit,” you said dismissively.

“You’re an amazing guitarist, and you're the most poetic person I've ever met,” he rattled on. “You're everything I want to be and I just...hate that I'm not, I guess. You’re the backbone of our band."

Really looking at him this time, you could tell he meant it. There was sincerity hidden in that black heart of his. You never thought you’d see the day. There was no room in you to take this in.

You stammered, “I—uh—got to get going.”

Jamie shot up from the chair when you did and trailed after you. “Wait, Y/N. You’ve had too much to drink,” he said. “Let me take you home.”

“No, I’m fine.” you waved him off and walked back downstairs. The beating music in the main part of the club filled your ears once more, pounding a headache into your head. You wanted tonight to be a brain fog in the morning. One that you couldn’t remember for a long time. You couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or if it was the praise you always wanted getting to you. Your face was hot and flushed from being flustered as you ran out of the doors. You could sense that he was still following you. His presence loomed over like a shadow.

“Y/N,” you heard him call, proving your suspicion right.

“I’m calling a taxi,” you said, searching your coat pockets for your phone.

“Listen to me. I meant what I said back there. I really, really admire you.”

“That doesn’t just take away the constant hell you’ve been putting me through this whole time,” you argued. “What? Out of envy? Get fucked.” your fingers typed aggressively on the keypads.

“Y/N,” you felt him grab your shoulder and spin around. Your legs turned to jelly from the sudden touch. You hated that. Jamie was so close you could feel nearly every fiber of him. Smoke from the cold night air escaped past his parted lips. “I’m so, so, sorry. Please, if I have to get down on my knees just to keep you in the band then I will. I’m sorry for being so shitty.”

Too nervous to meet his eyes again, you looked to the concrete. Your heart was racing so much, fluttering butterflies trapped in your throat.

“Let me take you home,” he said again. “Please?”

“What happened to your friend from earlier?” you said. The image of them holding hands flashed in your mind.

“Someone to fill up space, I guess,” he muttered. Both of his hands were placed on your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. There was a sense of sudden gravitation towards this man. Something that was so unfamiliar you were questioning yourself. Could you still hate him even after this?

“You really are something, Bower.” your whisper was carried by midnight’s wind.

It was like the space between you was getting tighter. Your eyes traveled to his lips which were half covered by the lights of the nightclub. You didn’t get any closer but paid attention to the way his soft lips moved as he spoke.

“Will you let me take you home?”

You nodded. “I’ll just tell B/N that I went with you then.”

For the first week of the new month, you distracted yourself with music. Your bandmates still knew nothing of you quitting, as far as you knew. Your mind was still consumed with Jamie Bower and that night at the club. How quiet and frail the air seemed during that car ride. How his goodnight made you burn up more than the tequila you were drinking. Everything you did to ignore it didn’t work. You guessed that it could’ve been some obsessive type of thing. What other explanation was there?

Currently, you were stationed at your desk, scribbling down lyrics and humming along to match them. Nothing would work along with these words. You kept scribbling and erasing, scribbling and erasing; until finally, you cracked and threw your pencil at the wall.

You forced yourself out of the chair to go to the fridge. The only thing that could put an end to this madness right now was a bottle of good ‘ole Jack, which you happened to have. Call you careless for drinking so early in the morning, you didn’t give a shit. It was nice and ice cold. Mind-numbing enough to delete whatever it was you tried to explain to yourself.

You slumped down on the couch, watching some talk show when a knock came at your door. You were too lazy to get up and hoped that it was for someone next door.

The knock came again and you grumbled. “Come in!” you shouted.

“It’s locked,” a voice said from behind the door. It seemed you had no other choice. You got up from the couch, annoyed. And much to your dismay upon opening the door, Jamie was there.

“Oh,” you said.

“Can I come in?” he said. He was wearing a black top and a pair of skinny jeans. Sunglasses adorned the top of his head. You nearly dropped the bottle.

“Uh—yeah—sure.”

You stepped aside to let him in, cursing yourself inwardly for somehow manifesting this. How lucky it was to have him show up on the day of your self-concentration.

“I came to check on you,” he then said, answering a question that was just forming in your brain. Was he reading your mind or something? “I hadn’t heard from you in awhile.”

“I’m fine,” you plopped back down on the couch and felt it dip when Jamie sat beside you.

“You told me that you’d call the day after and you never did.”

“Forgot,” you muttered, taking a sip of your drink.

“Jesus, Y/N, it’s only 9 in the morning.”

“Don’t pretend like you care.”

“I do. Or else I wouldn’t have come here.” his cold and calloused fingertips grazed the hand that held the bottle of your ease over and over. You had a faint realization that it would slip out of your grasp, but it didn’t. Something else had caught it while you were under Jamie’s hypnosis. He had the bottle in his hand. You watched him set it down on the coffee table in front of you.

“I still don’t know if I trust you,” you said, half-jokingly.

A small smile formed on his lips when he turned to you. “I understand. I only hope to earn it as time goes on.”

You sensed your lips tugging on to a smile as well and bit the inside of your cheek to hide it.

“You know I do care,” he said, almost in a whisper. He was closer to you now. Like magnets, you were pulled to each other; pulling to the ecstasy that lay in this tension. Only then when your noses were touching, you realized what you were doing. But in his warmth, nothing else mattered. You thought all of the butterflies would be washed away under sweet oak whiskey only to find them return at his touch. Maybe this was a form of trust.

“I’m sorry,” Jamie pulled away immediately. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t,” you said, grabbing his face with both hands to hold on to this last moment. You didn’t want it to end here. Not with how good everything felt in this moment. Your heart was skipping beats. You thought you would go into cardiac arrest. Your whole world was engulfed in Jamie.

When he pulled away a second time, you both were panting for air. He rested his forehead on yours, eyes clouded with hazing lust. You thought they looked beautiful.

“Y/N, I have to be honest,” he said in between the sound of your soft pants. “I want you. If you’ll let me—”

Your lips collided again as your hands roamed his body. You could smell the tobacco leaves protruding from him, getting drunk off of this scent alone. You moaned softly into the kiss.

It felt like your entire being was pulsating, waiting for this magical moment. Jamie had to have felt the same too. He looked as if he could lose it at any moment.

“Do you want to stay here or go to the bedroom?” you asked. “There’s more room.”

“Whatever you want,” he replied and started to trail pecks down your neck. You moaned, biting your bottom lip.

“Let’s go then.”

Jamie followed behind you like a lost little puppy as you carried him upstairs by the arm. Once the two of you were inside your bedroom he spun you around and picked you up, placing you on the bed. You giggled as he climbed on top of you.

“I don’t have a condom,” he muttered into your neck.

You reached over to your nightstand and opened the drawer, pulling out a blue box of latex condoms and a bottle of lube, throwing it over to him. He snorted a laugh, picking up both.

“Why do you have these?”

“Just in case, you know,” you shrugged and watched him examine them. “Hurry up. You’ve already got me riled up.”

Jamie chuckled. “I have to admit, I’m a bit jealous.”

“Awe, someone’s jealous?” you slid your hands under his shirt, contacting the warm skin and bones underneath. You felt him shudder. Perhaps because your hands were freezing cold.

“Very,” his hands traveled to your thighs. “Can’t have anyone else touching you.”

“Already possessive, are we?” you helped him lift his shirt over his head, throwing it to the floor. Both of your clothes had been discarded, stored away in the confines of your worlds with the least worries.

Once you two were prepped, you took advantage by wrestling him to the sheets and climbing on his lap. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state shook you all around. His nails grazed your thighs, leaving faint and temporary red marks. Soft gasps came from your lips as you sunk down on his cock. The feeling of it twitching inside drove you even madder, your heat quivering around it. You began moving your hips with Jamie's eyes holding you. His hands gripped your hips. You moved faster and faster, moaning at the immense pleasure in your core.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he groaned, admiring the view of your sweaty body. Every thump inside sent you into overdrive. It was like a fire had started in your body, carrying off from your chest down to your toes. Your hands grasped at his pecs. You leaned down, breathless, bouncing on his thick cock as if your life depended on it. His punched-out moans vibrated your eardrums.

“That feel good?” you gloated with a smile.

“Fuck yeah,” was all he could muster. You began marking his neck with hickeys, sucking and biting while you drove his soul out, letting out a pleased hum when you found your spot. “You gonna come?” he says, deep voice penetrating your ears. You moaned again, digging your nails into his pecs. Your body shuddered as your orgasm hit. Jamie held you tighter. You never thought you’d be this close before.

You didn’t stop moving your hips, wading through the aftershocks and overstimulation with tightened eyes. Not long after, Jamie had come too, letting out a relieved sigh as he spilled into the condom. You thought it to be twisted how you wanted to feel every bit of it. Greedy, almost. How you wanted to just get rid of this god-forsaken barrier and feel ALL of him. It wasn’t nearly as good as having it drip out of you.

A small gasp left your throat at the loss of heat when he slipped out. But he was still hanging on to you as he sat up, edging his tongue in your mouth one last time.

You broke away from him, saying, “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Me neither,” he replied. “That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy it, though.”

You scooted away from him and watched as he removed the condom, throwing it in the bin and grabbing his clothes. A frown was about to slip on your face, realizing it was all over.

Jamie must’ve noticed when he glanced at you. It took him no time to slip his clothes back on.

“Why the long face?” he said, sitting down beside you on the messy sheets.

“Nothing,” you gave him a thin smile. “Just…where exactly do we go from here?”

“Well, I don’t want to stop talking to you or anything.”

“I don’t either. It just feels weird.”

Jamie’s brows furrowed. “Weird?” The look made you a bit nervous.

“Not like a bad weird,” you explained quickly, laughing. “I mean, we’ve never been on the best of terms, Jamie. We just fucked.”

“True,” he smiled. “I do hope that this…situation doesn’t affect us. I want us to be on good terms. Not just as bandmates, you know?”

“Of course.”

He pecked you on the cheek and stood up. “Gotta get going,” he said. “We’re heading to the studio today. Do you want to come?”

“Don’t know if I can,” you chuckled.

“I never told them you left. Don’t worry. Your spot’s always open.”

The two of you said your final goodbyes that day. It was like nothing had ever happened. You were left with nothing but a ghost of your time. Crawling up into your bubble again, you wondered just how much more confusing Jamie Bower could get from here. It wasn’t very fun when you were still figuring him out.