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inkedtae · 7 months ago

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xiv. rotten angelcake ⇾ kth. [M]

⎡She’s as sweet as angelcake; he likes her honeyed rotten⎤

chapter fourteen : the edge of us ⤑ ❝ you’re teetering on the edge of something dangerous and taehyung’s words are the only anchor keeping you from falling–or so you hope. ❞

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⌁ pairing; ceo!taehyung x curvy!reader (f.)

⌁ genre/rating; s2l, ceo au, sugar daddy au, angst, fluff, 18+

⌁ word count; 5.5k

⌁ warnings; dom!taehyung, daddy!taehyung, sub!reader, brat!reader, virgin!reader, daddy kink, corruption kink, aftercare, mentions of sexual activity, mentions of bdsm themes, and lots of angst

⌁ 🎧 now playing... ✩

» prefer ao3? keep reading here

ও huge thanks to jen ( @itaeewon ) for the amazing new banner and a very giant thanks to jen ( @anobodyslove ) for beta-reading this until no matter how late it is and always being there for me. i love you babes 💕

The gym is quiet–save for the gentle trickling of rain, your panting and his groans. Taehyung’s fingers brush lazily along your back, tracing shapes you’re too dazed to decipher. Eye fluttering shut, you melt against him. You hold onto this feeling of utter contentment, even if you know it is fleeting, and let it engulf your fretful heart.

Taehyung’s deep, indulgent groan cuts through the comfortable silence. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Absolutely ruined. What am I supposed to do with such a messy little thing?”

You breathe a chuckle. Nestling against the crook of his neck, you press yourself further against him and let his sweaty, musky scent overwhelm your overstimulated senses. In this moment, you are his– you are completely wrapped in warmth and comfort. He trails his fingers along your spine, kissing your temple and lulling you out of your post-orgasmic state of exhaustion with quiet shushes. You allow yourself to forget the photos, the lack of labels, all the stuff he said to EDEN or his friends and just be his.

“So desperate, so needy—it's almost cute," he teasingly whispers before trailing kisses down your neck.

Steadying yourself against his shoulders, you lean back to meet his gaze. Playful indignation twinkles in his gaze. He presses his forehead against yours, nudging your nose with his own. You cannot help the soft moan that sounds in response, the gentle shift of your hips against his as you finally catch your breath.

“I can’t help it,” you admit in a whisper, voice still frayed with vulnerability.

Taehyung’s gaze softens– or rather, sobers. You’re not sure if it was your words, the sound of your voice, or the unbridled sincerity in your tone, but he stiffens beneath you. His grip around your waist doesn’t squeeze you against him either. Whatever warmth you felt moments ago disappears, leaving nothing but the cold to comfort you.

Swallowing thickly, you part your lips to ask if everything is okay, but the words die in your throat, shackled by fear, panic and disappointment. He’s been so responsive the last few times he came with you, been so open and forthcoming about how good it felt– how good you made him feel. Is he pushing you away again? Are you hurting him?

Heart in your throat, you try to stop yourself from thinking the worst whenTaehyung rasps, “Neither can I.”

With a furrow of your brows, you study his gaze. You search for any notions of anger, sadness, or even mischief but can only find hardened sincerity. Is this part of his game? His words only leave you more confused and disheartened. You wonder if he is upset by this revelation. Perhaps he doesn’t like admitting that you have that kind of power over him, or that he is capable of feeling this way for someone.

Taehyung holds you close as he stands up. Your eyes widen at his strength and you grip tightly onto his shoulders, suppressing a surprised squeal. You knew he was strong from the way he picked up the weighted bar with ease earlier, but that weight was evenly distributed. And while there were several other occasions where he effortlessly lifted you, he usually had a wall or tabletop to press the better part of your weight against. He’s never picked you up without support before this moment. You wait for him to grunt or groan, or for his features to scrunch in concentration against the weight but he never makes a sound or bats an eye. He just stands with you firmly in his grasp, then turns to set you down on the bench with practised ease.

You squirm in his previous seat. Your eyes follow his brooding frame to the towel rack. His back is wide and strong, flexing as he rolls his shoulders back. However, it’s the faint red, jagged lines that captivate you. Biting your lip, you try not to moan at the sight–at the fact that you just marked him. You can even see the indents of your nails in his shoulders and biceps.

Taehyung turns back, holding a small, damp towel. He raises his brow at you as an amused smile plays on his lips. You know you must look absolutely enamoured, innocently peering up at him.

“Spread your–”

Your legs part before he can even finish his sentence, and Taehyung cannot hold back any longer. He barks a laugh before looking down at you with condescending pity.

“You’re so eager,” he teases. “Is one round not enough for you, Angel?”

You can’t resist playing into his game, slightly leaning back to give him a better look at the mess you made of yourself. “Why don’t you get on your knees and find out?” you ask, sure to keep your voice submissive despite the brattiness of your words.

Even still, you expected him to bend you over the bench, gag you with the towel, and spank you until you’re raw… or perhaps you hoped he would. To your surprise, he does kneel in front of your spread legs.

Taehyung leans forward, pushing your skirt even further up to examine your arousal-smeared thighs and swollen folds. A throaty goran escapes him at the sight. He licks his lips when your hips buck ever so slightly in response. For a second, you wonder if he might lean in and clean you up with his mouth instead. He is so still, so focused on the way you clench, you want to ask him why he’s hesitating. But then, he starts to wipe the stickiness from your inner thighs, slowly moving inwards towards your folds. His touch is gentle and soft and you tighten your jaw to keep from moaning under his touch.

“You’re not spanking me?”

“Do you want to get spanked?”

Heat floods your cheeks. You try and fail to fight off a guilty smile as he meets your gaze. Biting your lip, you tuck your chin towards your chest, attempting to use the loose strands of hair framing your face to escape his playfully assertive glare. You wonder if you should confess that being spanked is all you can think about right now. You want him to sit on this bench, bend you over his knees, and land open-hand smacks on your cheeks until you’re in tears and on the brink of another needy orgasm–one he will probably deny you from experiencing if you continue to act out.

That thought alone makes you pout.

“No, sir,” you finally whisper, succumbing to his dominance all over again. “I’m sorry.”

The corner of his lips twitch but Taehyung does not allow his smile to overtake his features at your submission. He doesn’t even praise you for being a good girl like he always does. Instead, he continues to gently clean you up. When he’s done, he sets the towel aside to grab your awkwardly bundled g-string and tights. He untangles them within seconds, making you wonder if he’s just good at everything or if he’s done this before. You’re too scared to ask, instead allowing him to dress you one leg at a time.

“Apologies for the interruption, Mr Kim,” EDEN sudden voices, drawing your attention to the speakers on the ceiling.

Taehyung helps you stand, continuing to pull your tights up as she continues, “Jimin would like to know if you and Angel will be joining him for breakfast. Jungkook made some vulgar remarks. Would you like me to relay his message?”

“For fuck’s sake, no,” Taehyung replies, finally pulling your skirt back down.

You try to stifle your laughter with a bite of your lip. Parting your lips, you’re about to ask Taehyung how he met someone as unserious as Jungkook when he adds, “Tell them to go out without us.”

“Jungkook has already made breakfast, Mr Kim. Would you still like me to–”

“Yes.”

“Certainly, Mr Kim.”

Your amusement falters. He didn’t even let her finish the sentence before replying, as if the speed of his reply will erase the fact that the food is already set and waiting for them. You stand motionless, studying his expression to find it unnervingly neutral.

Taehyung avoids your confused gaze, bending down to grab the soiled towel. As he tosses it in the dirty hamper by the sanitation station, you can’t help but wonder if perhaps your presence here is more of an intrusion than the wonderful surprise Taehyung made it out to be earlier. Guilt festers in the pit of your stomach again.

“I really didn’t mean to–”

“It’s fine,” Taehyung reassures again. “They’re leaving.”

Your brows furrow. Watching him walk back to the bar he removed earlier, you cross your arms over your chest in a poor attempt to soothe your racing heart. You cannot help but wonder why he has been so insistent on them leaving since he realised you were here. At first, you thought he might have just wanted to get you alone to comfort you about all the crazy attention you’ve been getting. However, as you think about how he curved his friends’ questions and how he now has EDEN ushering them out of the building, you wonder if perhaps he does not want you to talk to them.

Maybe you’re overthinking it… Taehyung doesn’t say things he does not mean, especially to you. If he thought that you were intruding, he wouldn’t have told you otherwise when you first arrived. And if he didn’t want you to talk to his friends, he probably wouldn’t have taken you to Jimin’s show or even introduced you to him and Jungkook not even twenty minutes ago. He could just be protective– he did say that to EDEN, right?

There is no need to panic, you tell yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you try to act natural and put your heels back on. “You know, I don’t mind them,” you carefully say, sneaking a glance at him as you put on your other heel. “They seem fun. I can see why you like them.”

Taehyung retrieves another towel after returning the weighted bar in place. You stand back to your full height and watch his back muscles tense as he wipes his face and neck down from his sweat. His sweat didn’t bother him before, when he was pressing himself against you and talking you through grinding against him.

He’s hesitating, you realise. Why the fuck is he hesitating?

“Yeah, they’re good guys,” he finally replies.

You take a step closer, your heels announcing your movement. Taehyung instantly discards his towel and makes his way to his water bottle. You stiffen, watching him avoid your stare– your presence. You wonder again if you should have not come, if you should have called. Did you say the wrong thing? Was the sex not enjoyable?

Your heart constricts in anxiety and humiliation. You wrap your arms around yourself again, swallowing thickly. If he didn’t like it, why did he cum–lose himself in you the way he did? Why did he help you cum? It can’t just be because you’re friends– he clearly doesn’t treat Jimin and Jungkook like this. You wonder if all this is only for sexual gratification. Maybe he is just using you to get off and he has some sort of weird kink around helping you cum but not cumming himself. But he always says he never pays you for sex so how could both those things be true?

You can’t do this anymore. The second-guessing, the passive aggressive behaviour, the cryptic responses– you’re done. You don’t want half-hearted replies, handsome smiles or captivating eyes. You just want him. You want his warmth and sincerity. You want everyone to know that you are the cause of it. The whole country is talking about you, looking for you, wanting to catch the briefest glimpse of you because they think you mean something to Taehyung. For a while, you thought you might have. But standing in this empty gym, with him effectively ignoring you as he takes gulps of water, you cannot help but wonder if anyone means anything to him.

Your realisation stirs the echoes of several distant memories on a swaying yacht in the middle of September. Mr Kim doesn’t have friends. He has obsessions and they never last, Marina once told you. You thought she was just jealous and bitter, and perhaps she was. But maybe there was some truth in her declaration. Mrs Gelardson then attempted to comfort you, including you into her generalisation of women Taehyung had bedded. She’s not fond of any of us, she said. Even now those three words, any of us, make your stomach churn with disgust and despair. You didn’t believe you were one of them then. However, the way Taehyung evades the topic of his friends, gives you pause.

Are you really just like the others?

Frustration bubbling over, your fists clench and jaw sets. Tears prick your eyes and you do your best to blink them back, but it’s no use. Soon, a pair of rouge tears fall before others stream down your face. Your stomach knots with misery, chest tightens under the pressure of the emotional storm roaring within you. What makes matters worse is that, in this humiliating moment of passive rejection and fear, you still crave his touch. One embrace against his strong frame and you know everything will be okay.

Taehyung snaps his head up at the sound of your sniffles. His once perfectly neutral features morph into concern. He takes a step towards you only for you to take a step back.

“Don’t,” you firmly order, despite the impression of a heavy sob in your voice.

“Did I hurt you?”

You know what he means. You know he’s referring to the way he thrusted against you, but still nod your head, holding his gaze with conviction. “Yeah, you did,” you confess in the steadiest voice you can muster. “All you ever fucking do is hurt me, Tae.”

Taehyung scoffs. He shakes his head, as if he’s the one exasperated with your behaviour. “This again? Do you even hear yourself? All I ever do is hurt you? I–” he cuts himself off with a groan, clenching his jaw. “Stop twisting–”

“Twisting?” you question, voice trembling with anger. “What is there to twist? You barely say two fucking words to me about your life! You were just avoiding me two seconds ago because I brought up your friends and you wanna stand there and tell me to stop twisting things.”

“Don’t raise your voice at me,” he orders. His voice is tempered, but a soft impression of a growl still softly resonates in the room.

Any other day, you would have whimpered at the sound and apologised. You might have even pressed yourself against him and buried your face in the crook of his neck, allowing his strong arms to hold you close and sweet scent to soothe all your worries. But the twinge of pain in your chest refuses to be pacified by the mere sound of his deep, dulcet voice any longer.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” you reply, raising your voice even more. “Not when you’re hiding me from your friends like I’m some secret whore.”

“When have I ever said that to you?” He questions, matching your volume. “When the fuck did you hear the words ‘secret whore’ leave my mouth?”

“Oh, are we going to stand here and pretend that your actions don’t speak louder than your stupid words?”

Taehyung does not take kindly to your sarcasm. He straightens, rolling his shoulders back as he glares at you. It’s not the same glare he gives investors or pitiful women who try to get his attention. It is a glare of pure, unbound rage. Eyes dark, jaw tight, he seethes with frustration, clenching his fists at his side.

You return the glare with every bit of conviction, every notion of pain within you. If he thinks he can intimidate you with nasty looks, he’s sorely mistaken. You will not be deterred this time– not until you get the answers you want.

“All my actions have been selfish, have they, Angel?” he asks, stepping forward.

You hold your ground, steeling yourself against the way he continues to use your nickname even while he is so obviously annoyed. You firmly plant your feet to keep from moving towards him, refusing to give into his sensual power. Tears continue to pool in your eyes as you watch him draw nearer. You do not waver your stare as your mind rages with profanities and the unforgivable realsation that: this is not fucking fair.

“Even when I take you out–”

“That’s for work,” you correct. “We have an agreement.”

“Even when I make you cum?”

You stiffen.

“Is that part of our agreement?” he mockingly questions, now only an arm’s length away. “You’re standing here crying and acting like I’m the fucking bad guy. I want you around, Angel. I want you all to myself.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, momentarily discarding the frustration it once held. His selfishness might be why he pushed his friends away, but it doesn’t not explain why he was avoiding your gaze before. He was being cryptic and distant when you brought them up. That is not the behaviour of someone who just wants to monopolise your attention.

Still, Taehyung must see your resolve wavering in your eyes as he finally towers over you. He doesn’t dare touch you yet, though. And for that you are thankful. You’re not sure you’d be able to completely reject him if he did.

“That’s not good enough,” you whisper. “What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?”

Another heavy exhale escapes him and he averts his gaze to the left for a moment. You tilt your head to force him to maintain eye contact– the same way he often does with you. He can sigh and purse his lips all he wants but he will look at you while he does so. He must–because if he is going to stand before you and act like his avoidant behaviour has not been damaging, then he will do so while maintaining your cold stare.

“I know nothing about you, Taehyung,” you continue, tone sharp but voice wavering. “Before I met your family, I had no idea what I was walking into because you never told me anything about them. I didn’t even know you had a niece and a nephew or two brothers or that your grandparents basically raised you. I’m not even sure if that’s true because you never explained anything to me.”

Taehyung flinches.

Your lips twitch into a sneer at the sight, momentary satisfaction soothing your frustrated heart. Good, you think. You want him to feel the agony of never knowing, the tormenting thoughts of what this all means– if it even means anything.

Huffing softly, breathing jagged from suppressed sobs, you steady yourself to add,“But, you know all about me. You know about how my mother–” you cut yourself off to swallow a sob.

Taehyung reaches out to rest a hand to cup your face, but you take a step back with a shake of your head. He retreats with a sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets instead.

Finding your voice again as tears freely stream down your face, you continue, “You know my mother’s addicted to painkillers. You know how she hurt me, how she blamed me for it. You know I don’t talk to my family anymore and they don’t care enough to call. You know I don’t have any friends of my own and that I hate work and I feel like burden on Mrs Chu, nearly every fucking day. You know everything about my life and all I know about you is that you build things and have money.”

“That’s not–”

“Oh right, sorry,” you sarcastically shout, cutting him off, “You have some daddy issues but I barely even understand what they are because you refuse to talk about anything remotely personal.”

“I don’t owe you my past,” he shoots back, voice calm despite that bite in his words. “You don’t get to demand that like you’re entitled to it. You told me about yours willingly.”

You remember that day vividly– about four months ago. While scrolling through social media, you stumbled upon a post from an old high school friend. It was a repost from your older sister’s account accounting her pregnancy. Disbelief twisted in your gut as you clicked on her page. Wiping your tears, you scrolled through all the images of her new house, her trips with her husband, even the progress of the nursery. Each milestone was a sharp reminder of the moments you were denied.

Your anxious curiosity hadn’t stopped there. You used her account to stalk your mother’s account, then your father’s–even your freeloading brother’s. They have all moved on with you, effectively shunning you from their lives just as your mother promised. No one called, no one asked, and no one cared. You had and will always be their greatest disappointment. You knew that when your mother neglected you, abused you. You knew that when your father pretended not to notice all your bruises and scars she left. You knew that when your lazy brother, who is all but one year younger than you, was rewarded for simply existing in a cis-male body. But looking at their social media accounts at that moment, you felt it deep in your bones too: you do not have a family anymore.

And when Taehyung called that night, you couldn’t stop sniffling or hide the pain in your voice. You told him everything, sobbing into the phone as he shushed and comforted you.

You were grateful for his support at the time. You remember thinking he was the sweetest, most caring person in the world and all you wanted to do was curl up against his warmth.

Now, standing before him, his audacity stings like salt in a wound. Suppressing a roll of your eyes, you breathe a humourless laugh. “Are you kidding me? You would not stop pestering me about what’s wrong.”

“You answer the phone upset and you expect me not to ask you what’s wrong?” Taehyung questions, a smile of disbelief playing on his lips. “Right, I forgot– I’m the asshole here. Next time, I won’t give a shit about you.”

“You already don’t!” You scream, voice slightly pitching. Blinking back tears, you ground yourself long enough to get it all off your chest. “What kind of person, let alone a friend– because that’s what we are, right?– would hide someone they care about from their friends? You were laughing with them! They’re obviously your friends, so don’t you dare deny it, Kim Taehyung!” You spit, standing on your toes in a poor attempt to solidify your own dominance.

Taehyung does not take well to your use of his full name. He tilts his head, tonguing his cheek only to tighten his jaw. “You have–”

“I’m not done,” you seethe cutting him off. You almost don’t recognise your own voice, so sharp and full of contempt.

He blinks and you swear you catch him shiver under the icy tone of your words.

“If I meant anything to you, you’d stop pretending like I don’t exist in front of your friends. You’re not the asshole here but you’re treating me like you’re embarrassed to be with me?” you ask with just as much vehemence in your tone.

“Embarrassed?” He repeats, baffled. His shoulder previously slouched under your steeled gaze, square as he towers over you. “You’re my plus-one, Angel. Why would I drag you around with me if I was embarrassed to be seen with you?”

“You–”

“I’m not done,” he hisses, matching your previous tone.

You curl inwards, lowering your chin towards your chest and peering up at him with tear-brimmed eyes. Taehyung’s strong resolve momentarily wavers at the sight. He slowly raises his hand as if he’s about to curl a strand of your hair behind your ear, but then lowers it– as if thinking better of it.

A quiet sigh of relief escapes your pouty lips. You’re not sure what you would have done if he touched you so gingerly.

“I’m not embarrassed by you, Angel– I’m not,” he emphasises when you scoff. “I am not trying to hurt you, eithe– Don’t look at me like that.” He orders, voice gruff with exhaustion and annoyance. “I want you here with me– I want you here all the fucking time!”

“You’re so full of shit!”

The word tumble out of your mouth, laden with hurt and resentment. You don’t stop them, nor do you regret them, puffing your chest out and holding your head high. Tears stream freely down your face and you don’t try to blink them away anymore. Exhausted, you cannot handle another second of his half-truths anymore.

Taehyung stiffens. His eyes darken in a way that is not greedy nor indulgent but rather sinister. He stands so still, so tall, staring at you with an intensity that makes your stomach twist with desire and fury. His face is a portrait of calculated calm, as though the heat in his gaze sparks with simmering anger.

“Excuse me?” He quietly questions, voice so deep and tempered. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me.”

“Say it again.”

You shake your head.

Taehyung raises a brow.

You press your lips together to hold back a sob. It slightly breaks through a stifled sigh. You shake your head with more certainty, asking in a voice so frayed,“What are we doing?”

A notion of confusion settles on his features. “What do you mean?”

“What is this? What are we?” You finally ask, shakily inhaling.

The flaming wrath that once burned in his gaze slowly diminishes. His jaw slightly slackens, tension softening– upon your questions or the sound of your broken voice, you don’t know and can’t be bothered to care.

Licking your lips, you swallow the lump in your throat, let out a trembling breath and conclude, “Taehyung, I am not your friend.”

“That’s not–”

“We stopped being just friends a long time ago!” You suddenly shout over him. With a gentle shove against his chest, you exasperatedly add, “You know that, don’t pretend you don’t!”

Taehyung does not budge even an inch from your shove. His chest is a wall of strength, which you regret to realise still makes your toes curl. You push aside your neediness, holding on tightly to your anger.

“Tell me what to do one more time,” he roars, “I dare you!”

Goosebumps prick your skin, despite yourself. You know he doesn’t respond well to being ordered around and that maybe, if you really want him to understand you, you should have approached this with a more level head. You should have calmly expressed your frustrations and not shouted or sworn. However, you’ve tried to be patient before and he always says he will be better only to disappoint you some other way.

You can’t keep doing this.

Letting out a loud groan of frustration, you push him again, not caring if he doesn’t move at all. “This isn’t a game, Taehyung. I don’t want this anymore,” you gesture between the two of you. “I want to know where we stand. I want to walk into a room with you and not have to worry about how to introduce myself or which lie to sell,” you grip onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his soft skin, “I want you! I want us!”

“Why would you even want that?" He shakes his head, a bitter edge to his voice.

Your hands drop to your sides in defeat.

"If you think the media’s bad now, it’ll be worse the moment they know we’re anything more than friends,” he continues, “And don’t get me started on my grandparents. They'll expect every little detail about you.”

The idea of being his grandparents prodding you, doting over you and accepting you as one of their own fills you with a warmth that makes you sick to your stomach. You swallow back the rising bile in your throat at the realisation that this reality of a serious relationship is ridiculous to him. He doesn’t think it’s worth it and you realise that every worry you have ever thought about him leaving, ending this friendship is suddenly materialising before your eyes.

There is no use in holding back now, you decide. If you are going to walk away from this, from him, you might as well get it all out.

“I want that!”

“Why would you want to put yourself through that?” Taehyung asks again, his patience thinning with the sharpness of his baritone voice.

“Because I like you, you idiot!”

“I swear to God, Angel– Insult me one more time.”

An incredulous chuckle escapes your trembling lips.

Did he just threaten me?

You just bore your heart to him. You told him what you want, hurt and furious and afraid of losing him. You confessed your feelings as best as you could. You told him what you want and he threatens you because you gave him a well earned insult.

Shaking your head, you take a step back. “You’re unbelievable,” you whisper, before turning towards the elevator. You don’t bother wiping your tears or fixing your makeup, not sparing him a second glance as you pick up your pace. You want–need to put as much distance as possible between you and him.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he orders, following after you.

Whirling back to face him, you summon the last bit of your rage from deep in your chest and demand, “Don’t tell–”

Taehyung closes the distance between you within two strides. He cups your face with a soothing tenderness that ignites shivers down your spine. His lips collide with yours without hesitation– combusting your heart with divine delight. For a moment, the world trickles away like raindrops on a foggy window, slow and then all at once. You cannot remember how you got here or what prompted this grand gesture or what your name is as he sears his own upon your lips instead.

Soft and sweet, his hands trail down your body to your waist, pulling you closer against him. You melt into his touch, arching your back to mold yourself into him. Running a hand through his hand, you use the other to steady yourself with a grip on his shoulder.

Taehyung breaks the kiss with a quiet moan. His chest heaves heavily against yours, eyes searching.

You furrow your brows. Licking your lips, you feel the heat his mouth left. “You…You kissed me,” you murmur. “Why–”

“Are you sure you want this?” Taehyung asks again.

Confusion folds your features. You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing yourself as humanly close as possible to him and fervently nod. “Yes,” you practically beg. “Tae, I want to really be yours. I don’t want to keep second guessing us anymore.”

He sighs, nudging your nose with his. ““I don’t either,” he mutters.

Your eyes widen at his confession. You wonder how long he’s been thinking about this– about you like this. “Why didn’t you say something before?” you can’t stop yourself from asking.

Taehyung swallows thickly. He licks his lips before replying, “I don’t know.”

You raise a brow. That’s not something Kim Taehyung often admits. Searching his eyes for deception, you inhale deeply and shake your head. Your noses brush, coaxing a small smile on his lips. You suppress your own at the sight, intent on waiting for a serious response.

Sighing, Taehyung tongues his cheek. “I didn’t want to ruin what we have,” he finally confesses. “And I really did want to keep you to myself, Angel. I like the way you look at me when it’s just us.”

You shift against him, legs pressing tightly together. “And how do I look at you?”

A smile tugs on the corners of his lip, and he hovers them over yours again. “You look at me like you don’t know anything but me,” he rasps, voice thick with possession. “Like I’m the one thing you need and nothing else matters.”

You bite back your whimper, not allowing yourself to completely succumb to him just yet. You can feel his hot, minty breath panting against your parted lips and, despite the intense urge to feel his tongue pushing against yours in your mouth, you fight against kissing him again.

You cannot ignore your lingering doubts at the fact that he has yet to define what you are. If he simply calls you his friend again, you might throw your shoe at him in frustration.

“So where does that leave us then?” you question.

Taehyung brings a hand up to wipe away the last of your tears. He gently swipes his thumb under your eyes, removing your smudged mascara. “Together,” he whispers, “as a couple.”

Your heart thumps in your chest, struggling to contain its excitement. “So you’d be my boyfriend?”

Taehyung smirks at the label. Nodding, he hums, “That’s right, princess.”

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

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writerofautumnnights · 2 months ago

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𝑮𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬𝑹 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — 𝐉𝐎𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐌

previous chapter

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ pairing: jobe bellingham x fem!oc

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ sumary: Jobe and Sarah finally give in to the attraction that consumes them. Amidst intense touches and unspoken promises, the chemistry between them reaches its peak, but the impending farewell leaves a taste of uncertainty.

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ warnings: NSFW, a hint of anguish and a little dominance if you close one eye.

count: 10.9k sorry!

# tags: @lonely-world3 @barcagirly @formulafortyfour @kennaskorner @anifffff @jessnotwiththemess @irishmanwhore @oceanfanatic06 @haartemis @eriks-girl @peyiswriting @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @sucredreamer @virgilsgurl @everlyjay @kj77 @muglermami @sailurmewn @goldenngt @cranberryjulce @darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @amirawrah if you want it removed, let me know!

keara’s imessage: myyyyy jobe girls 🗣️ forgive me for the delay, I warned you that I didn't like what I wrote before, but I crossed the line on this one. Thanks for all the love and if you want to be tagged, just let me know. enjoy the chapter 💕

masterlist

Sarah had never planned to fall in love during her exchange program. She had always been picky and cautious when it came to relationships. She had no interest in "raising boys," especially getting involved with someone who might be younger.

But Jobe... he was nothing like the people she had met before. The dilemma of being in your twenties is that you could – potentially – get involved with someone younger or someone older. There's always this inner conflict about what you actually want in a relationship – whether you want to deal with someone still figuring out how to handle life or someone who's already focused on financial success, because after thirty, building stability becomes a priority.

For the Brazilian, these questions had started to surface more and more each day. She was determined to stick to her original goals, trying to fully focus on her studies, but somehow she found herself more and more drawn to someone who was constantly stealing her attention. Sometimes she would catch herself just staring at him, thinking, "How did this even happen?"One look into his eyes and Sarah was completely lost. It was hard not to fall into temptation, hard not to crave being closer every day. She hoped she wasn’t rushing things, but there was something she simply couldn’t put into words. She had never met anyone like him before.

The distance between them was challenging, but somehow, they were making it work. Their daily video calls had quickly become Sarah’s favorite part of the day.

Their communication was getting better and better. Sarah’s English classes were paying off, even with all those impossible phrasal verbs he loved to use. And she had taught him a few words in Portuguese too. It was adorable how he tried to say "saudade" – equally cute and hilarious. Jobe loved saying "meu bem" and "linda demais" whenever he thought she wasn't paying attention.

And it had only been two weeks since that first call that brought them back into each other's lives.

Some people around Sarah had already noticed how distracted and unavailable she seemed; her free time was now filled with calls that somehow made the distance feel shorter. They hadn’t met again in person yet, but it didn’t matter. Some of her friends had even spotted the Sunderland shirt she got after the match and asked questions, but Sarah kept it low-key, just like they had agreed. Some things were meant to stay just between the two of them – even though she was dying to share everything with the world. To her, he was simply Jobe. But to the world, he was still Jobe Bellingham.

Sarah remembered when she used to say she didn’t want to fall in love, didn’t trust anyone anymore, didn’t want to care too much ever again. But Jobe had changed all of that. And day by day, she was letting herself fall even harder.

The Uber weaved through the streets of Manchester while Sarah nervously tapped her fingers against her bag. The improvised lie from the night before weighed heavily on her conscience. She had sent Jobe a message saying that an unexpected issue with her course was preventing her from going to the match. She could still picture his reply — short, polite, but carrying a hint of disappointment he had tried to hide.

Her surprise had almost been ruined when she arrived at the hotel where she would be staying and ran into a few members of Sunderland’s staff at the reception. For a few seconds, her heart skipped a beat as she quickly scanned the lobby for any sign of Jobe. But it was just some staff members. She had been so close — Jobe and the other players had walked through the lobby just minutes later, coming back from their training session at the stadium.

Luckily, Sarah was already on her way to her room.

Her own foolishness had almost ruined the moment she had carefully planned for so long. If she had just asked Jobe where they would be staying, there wouldn’t have been any close calls. But she learned her lesson.

The stadium was already visible in the distance when she picked up her phone and dialed his number. It had to be a quick call. Sarah took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. Three rings, and he answered.

"Hey!" she said, smiling the moment she heard his breathing on the other end. "I just wanted... to wish you good luck..."

She could feel the surprise in his voice, that slight pause of someone who hadn’t expected the call. Jobe said something about getting ready to step onto the pitch, but she caught the lighter tone, as if her call had softened the disappointment he had tried to hide about her supposed absence.

"Are you getting another call?" she asked when she heard another ringtone in the background.

"Yeah, it’s Jude. I need to answer."

"Go ahead. I'll be cheering for you from here. Don’t forget my goal!" she teased.

The driver announced their arrival at the stadium. Sarah zipped her jacket up to her neck, feeling the fabric of the new, autographed Sunderland jersey she wore underneath—a gift Jobe had sent her the previous week. Across her back, his name and number were printed, making her heart race in ways she still couldn't quite explain.

With hesitant steps, she made her way toward the VIP entrance, where players' families gathered. Everything still felt overwhelming; Sarah had been nervous ever since she picked up the ticket earlier that morning—managing to do so discreetly, without Jobe finding out.

The security guard checked her name on the list and gestured for her to move down the hallway. Suddenly, the full weight of her impulsive decision hit her: she was about to watch a match in the section usually reserved for the players' families.

An attendant guided her toward her seat, and Sarah found herself impressed by it all. For a second division team, today's stadium was seriously impressive.

When she entered the reserved box, Sarah froze. The first pair of eyes she met belonged to a middle-aged man whose features were unmistakably familiar—the same eyebrows, the same posture. Mark Bellingham studied her for a few seconds before a spark of recognition lit up his face.

"You must be Sarah," he said, approaching with a warm smile that didn’t quite match the stern image she had built in her mind based on the few photos she had seen. "Jobe’s going to be... well, ‘surprised’ doesn’t even begin to cover it."

"I-I... yes, I am... It's such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bellingham," she stammered, suddenly feeling like all the English words she had learned had fled from her mind. "Sorry for not... telling you I was coming."

"Mark, please," he corrected kindly. "Come on, let me introduce you to everyone."

Everyone?

A man sitting with his leg stretched out over one of the seats turned when he heard the conversation. Sarah recognized him immediately from magazines and match broadcasts: Bellingham. Jude Bellingham, Jobe’s older brother, Real Madrid star — currently sidelined with an injury — was right there in front of her. Beside him, an elegant woman with piercing eyes observed Sarah with an expression she couldn't quite read.

"So you're the famous Sarah," Jude said with a wide grin, reaching out his hand. "Finally meeting the person who has my brother checking his phone every five minutes."

Sarah felt embarrassment flood every part of her body as she accepted his handshake. "Nice to meet you... sorry for showing up... without warning," she managed, her voice barely steady.

"Don’t apologize," Jude laughed. "He’s going to love the surprise."

When Sarah turned to greet Denise, the boys’ mother, a wave of nerves hit her. The woman’s gaze was intense, assessing, and for a moment Sarah was certain she had made a terrible mistake by coming unannounced.

"Sarah," Denise said simply, extending her hand with graceful poise. "Jobe mentioned you wouldn’t be coming."

"It was... uh... a last-minute change of plans," Sarah explained, struggling to find the right words in English. "I hope I'm not... intruding. It was supposed to be... a surprise."

Something in Denise’s expression softened, almost imperceptibly. "Anyone who makes my son smile the way you do is more than welcome."

The tension in Sarah’s shoulders eased just a little. Jude pulled out an empty chair beside him and patted the seat.

"Come, sit here. I want to hear all about how you manage to put up with my brother."

The comment earned a nervous laugh from Sarah, and Jude seemed to pick up on her discomfort. With an easy charm, he began sharing embarrassing childhood stories about him and Jobe, speaking slowly and clearly so she could follow, occasionally repeating himself when he noticed her confusion.

The teams entered the pitch for the warm-up, and Sarah’s heart leapt when she spotted Jobe among the players. He looked focused, completely unaware of the surprise waiting for him in the family box.

"He hasn’t looked this way yet," Mark commented, as if reading her thoughts. "He’s always been like that. When he's on the pitch, the whole world disappears."

***

The stadium buzzed with the energy of 20,000 people gathered for the decisive match. Jobe adjusted his number 7 shirt and took a deep breath, feeling adrenaline rush through his veins, just like it always did before a big game. But today, there was something different. A restlessness he couldn't quite name.

His gaze swept across the crowd until it landed on a specific spot — the VIP box where players' families usually sat. His parents were there, Mark and Denise, chatting with Jude. And next to them... She.

Sarah wasn’t supposed to be there. She hadn’t mentioned anything about coming. But there she was, with her unmistakable golden curls and a smile that seemed to light up the whole stadium. Sarah laughed at something Mark said, and for a brief moment, she opened her jacket, revealing the team shirt underneath — the very same one Jobe had autographed and sent to Manchester just a few days ago. The one she had told him she kept tucked away every night like a special gift. The thought made something flip inside his stomach.

When Sarah noticed Jobe staring, she gave him a discreet wave, her smile growing wider. He felt warmth spread through his chest. Quickly, he tore his gaze away, forcing his focus back onto the field. He couldn’t get distracted. Not today. Not by her.

"Focus, Jobe," he muttered under his breath, adjusting his shorts.

Chris approached, giving his shoulder a firm pat. "Would you look at that — the Brazilian actually showed up."

Jobe tried to keep his face neutral, but the weight on his shoulders grew heavier. "Didn’t think she would."

"And I couldn’t take one more minute of you moping around after almost scaring her off with all that commitment-phobia of yours," Chris laughed. "Good thing Eliezer and I knocked some sense into you. Must be the first girl who’s ever made you this nervous."

"I'm not nervous," Jobe replied automatically, though he knew it was a lie.

"Sure," Chris said, shaking his head, amused. "One day, someone was bound to break through all those walls, mate. Just didn’t expect it to be an older woman with that look — like she knows exactly what she wants."

Before Jobe could respond, the whistle blew, calling the teams onto the field. He took a deep breath, pushing all thoughts of Sarah to a far corner of his mind. It was game time. His territory — the place where he knew exactly who he was and what he had to do.

The match kicked off at a fierce pace, just as expected. Jobe threw himself into the game with the iron discipline that defined him on the pitch. For forty straight minutes, he maintained laser-sharp focus, organizing plays in midfield, contributing both in defense and attack. The scoreboard remained 0–0, a reflection of the tension and balance between the two teams.

It was during a stoppage — an opponent down, receiving treatment — that his focus betrayed him. Almost instinctively, his eyes searched for Sarah in the VIP box. She was standing, chatting with his mother, Denise. Something about the sight — Sarah talking to his family like she already belonged — made his heart race.

What were they talking about? Was Sarah nervous? He could hear her Brazilian accent in his mind, the slight stumble over words when she got anxious. Was his mother being kind to her?

"Earth to Jobe!" The coach’s voice snapped him back to reality. "I’ve been talking to you for a minute now! What’s going on? I’ve never seen you this distracted."

"Sorry, coach. It won’t happen again."

The coach studied him for a moment before continuing with the tactical instructions. Jobe nodded mechanically, his eyes trained on the coach’s face, but his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

When the game resumed, Jobe forced himself to focus solely on the ball and the movements of the opponents. It worked, for a while. Until, fifteen minutes into the second half, a perfect opportunity arose. He stole the ball in midfield, dribbled past two defenders, and seeing open space ahead, advanced decisively towards the goal. At the edge of the box, with surgical precision, he shot towards the lower right corner, leaving the goalkeeper with no chance.

The stadium erupted in celebration as Jobe ran, arms wide open, toward the sidelines. Amid the euphoria, his teammates jumped on him, celebrating the goal. When he finally managed to break free from the group hug, Jobe did something he had never done before — he turned towards the VIP box and pointed directly at Sarah.

It was an impulsive gesture, completely out of character for his usually reserved nature, but at that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. From a distance, he saw Sarah’s face light up in a radiant smile as she covered her face shyly. Beside her, Jude elbowed their father, pointing and apparently making some comment that made Mark laugh and shake his head.

"Wow, the ice man finally melted!" Eliezer joked, passing by as they headed back to their positions. "Never thought I'd see the day Jobe 'I-don’t-get-attached' Bellingham would dedicate a goal to someone."

Chris joined in the teasing: "The Brazilian must have magic powers! We need to thank her later."

Jobe just smiled, for the first time not caring about the teasing from his friends. The feeling of having scored a goal and openly dedicating it to Sarah was strangely freeing.

The rest of the game was a showcase of his talent on the field. As if freed from a weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying, Jobe played with a fluidity and creativity that drew applause from the crowd. In the thirty-eighth minute of the second half, he assisted the second goal, sealing the 2–0 victory.

When the final whistle blew, Jobe felt a mix of euphoria from the win and anxiety about what was to come. He knew that, unlike other times, he couldn't simply avoid Sarah. Not after that public gesture. Not after seeing her talking with his parents.

In the locker room, he tried to focus on the team’s celebrations and the quick interviews with journalists. But his mind kept returning to the image of Sarah in the VIP box, wearing his autographed jersey, flashing that smile that seemed made just for him.

"Go on, man," said Eliezer, giving him a friendly push as they finally left the locker room. "Your Brazilian is waiting. And from what Chris told me, your parents are practically ready to adopt her."

"What?" Jobe frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Let’s just say that while you were busy here, your brother was introducing her to everyone as your girlfriend," Chris explained with a mischievous smile. "Apparently, your dad’s already in love with her accent."

Jobe felt a wave of panic. Introducing Sarah as his girlfriend? They hadn’t even kissed yet! What was Jude thinking?

"Relax," Eliezer said, patting his shoulder when he noticed Jobe’s expression. "From what I heard, people just insisted on meeting her after seeing you dedicate the goal."

"What the hell?" Jobe couldn’t hide his confusion.

"So, Mrs. Bellingham got curious to meet the woman who finally conquered her son’s shielded heart," Chris added, amusement all over his face.

"We’re not… it’s not like…" Jobe began, then stopped, not knowing how to define what he and Sarah were to each other.

"Just go," Chris said again, more softly this time. "We all saw the way you look at her. And how she looks at you. Stop fighting it."

With those words echoing in his mind, Jobe walked toward the area where he knew his family — and Sarah — were waiting. With each step, he felt his heart beat harder. It was ridiculous, he thought. He was a professional athlete who regularly performed in front of thousands of people, but the thought of seeing one woman had him panicking.

But it wasn’t just any woman. It was Sarah.

With her golden curls, her musical accent when she spoke English, the way she tilted her head when listening to him with full attention, as if every word he said mattered. Sarah, who somehow managed to see through the walls he had spent years building around himself.

When he finally spotted them in the VIP lounge, Jobe paused for a moment to watch them. His father had his arm draped over Jude’s shoulders, while his mother chatted animatedly with Sarah, who gestured as she spoke, her curls bouncing with the movement. Even from a distance, Jobe could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she tried a little harder to pronounce the words correctly — all signs that she was nervous but determined to make a good impression.

The thought that she was trying so hard for him made something tighten in his chest.

"There’s the star of the game!" his father exclaimed as he saw him approaching.

Everyone turned. Sarah’s smile, when her eyes met his, was a mixture of relief and happiness that made Jobe momentarily forget all his reservations. He greeted his father first, then his brother and mother, exchanging a few words with each of them.

And then, finally, his eyes found Sarah’s again. Jobe couldn’t quite tell what she was feeling, but Sarah focused on her own breathing as she felt her legs tremble slightly as he came closer.

"You came," he said simply, his voice low enough that only she could hear it.

"Surprise," Sarah replied, feeling her English falter once again.

"It really is a surprise. I thought you wouldn’t come!"

"I lied, forgive me," Sarah laughed, biting her lip with a smile.

"Why are you hiding the jersey?" he asked, noticing her zipped-up jacket.

Sarah squinted, making Jobe smile openly, his dimple showing. The gesture made her smile slowly, and feeling all of his family's eyes on her, Sarah opened her jacket, revealing the Sunderland jersey.

Jobe’s eyes immediately darted to a special spot. The dedication: With love, to England’s sunshine. JB 7

The smile that spread across Jobe’s face was unlike any she had ever seen before. There was pride, surprise, and something deeper she couldn’t name.

"It looks better on you than on me," he commented, running his fingers lightly over the fabric, a gesture that sent shivers down Sarah’s spine.

Jobe then turned his attention back to his family.

"Son, what an incredible game! And that moment! I never thought I’d see you do something like that."

"Yeah, little bro, you really surprised us today," Jude added with a mischievous grin. "I barely recognized my usually reserved brother making public declarations."

"It wasn’t a declaration," Jobe protested, flashing a nervous smile, as if trying to hide his embarrassment.

"It was beautiful," Sarah’s soft voice interrupted, her Brazilian accent more pronounced due to her nerves. "No one... has ever done something like that for me before."

Their eyes locked, and for a moment it felt like they were alone in the crowded lobby. Jobe could see every nuance of emotion on her face — the nervousness about being around his family, the insecurity about her English, the genuine happiness at seeing him, the anticipation of what would come next.

"Sarah was just telling us how you gave her that jersey at the first game she attended," his mother commented, bringing Jobe back to reality. "I thought it was such a sweet gesture."

"And she didn’t mention that she sleeps with the jersey every night?" Jude teased, earning a deadly glare from Sarah, whose hands grew sweaty at the revelation.

"I don’t... it’s not exac–" she began to protest, stumbling over her words.

"It’s okay," Jobe interrupted gently, stepping closer to her. "Jude’s just trying to embarrass you. It’s what he does best."

His brother feigned outrage, but his eyes betrayed his amusement. "I'm just helping you two move past this weird dance you’ve been doing for a while now."

"Son, we invited Sarah to have dinner with us tonight," his father interjected, saving them from more teasing. "Do you mind? We thought it would be nice to get to know her better."

The question caught Jobe off guard. A family dinner? With Sarah? It was a big step, especially considering they hadn’t even defined what they were to each other yet. But when he looked at her and saw the mix of hope and apprehension in her eyes, he realized the idea didn’t scare him as much as it should.

"Of course," he answered, surprising himself with how natural it sounded. "If Sarah’s comfortable with it."

"I’d love to," she replied, a shy smile playing on her lips.

"Great," his mother beamed. "We’re heading to the restaurant at your hotel. We already arranged for you to skip the team dinner, so we’ll go with Jude. You can go with Sarah and meet us there?"

Jobe nodded, recognizing his mother’s transparent maneuver to give them a moment alone. "We’ll see you there, then."

As his parents and Jude walked away, promising to meet them at the hotel, Jobe finally found himself alone with Sarah. The silence between them was charged with anticipation.

"You played so well," she finally said, her voice soft. "That goal was amazing."

"Thank you for coming, meu bem," he replied, taking a step closer to her. "I wasn’t sure you’d be here."

Sarah couldn’t hide her smile at hearing Jobe use the Portuguese nickname she had taught him with such delight.

"I just bet it would be cool," she explained. "I thought you’d like to see me cheering for you." She hesitated, biting her lower lip. "I’m sorry about your parents... I didn’t plan on meeting them like this, it all happened so fast and..."

"It’s okay," Jobe interrupted her softly. "They seem to like you."

"Your mom is very kind," Sarah smiled, relaxing a little. "But I’m nervous about my English with them... sometimes I can’t find the right words and..."

Seeing her anxiety build, Jobe did something he had been wanting to do since he first saw her in the box. He closed the final distance between them and pulled her into a hug. He felt her body stiffen in surprise for a second before she relaxed against him, her arms wrapping around his waist.

Leaning down slightly, Jobe buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in deeply. Her scent — a mix of some floral perfume and something uniquely Sarah — wrapped around him like a warm blanket on a cold day. It was comforting and thrilling at the same time. "Your English is perfect," he murmured against her skin, feeling her shiver slightly. "And my parents already adore you. Just like..." he stopped, the words catching in his throat. He wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet.

Sarah pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, their faces inches apart. "Just like...?" she encouraged, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

Jobe swallowed hard, feeling another barrier inside him crumble. "Just like I'm starting to adore you," he finished, his voice low, almost a whisper.

The smile that lit up her face was like a sunrise — gradual, warm, and utterly breathtaking. A different Sarah appeared before him, lighter and unburdened.

"It took you a while to admit that, English boy," she teased, her hand reaching up to gently touch his face, making his heart skip a beat.

"I'm afraid," he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "Of how you make me feel. Of how you seem to see through all my defenses."

Sarah nodded, understanding. "I know. And I'm not in a hurry." Her fingers traced the line of his jaw.

He smiled, a genuine smile that he rarely showed anyone. "This shirt really looks much better on you," Jobe commented, unable to take his eyes off Sarah. "Way too beautiful!"

"You need to stop making me blush, British boy. You know I can still return it... if you want," Sarah replied, playfully.

"Don't take it off again," Jobe said, surprising himself. "It really suits you."

Sarah took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "You know, Jobe, for someone so skilled on the field, you're terribly hesitant off of it."

The comment caught him by surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you look at me like I'm both something you desperately want and something that terrifies you. Beyond what we feel." She tilted her head, studying him. "Am I wrong?"

Her honesty left him momentarily speechless. It was exactly how he felt, but he never expected her to notice it so clearly.

"I..." he started, but stopped, unsure of how to continue.

Sarah smiled, understanding. "It's okay. You don't have to explain. I just want you to know that I'm really not in a rush." She reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers again. "And I'm not as scary as I seem."

Her touch was warm, real, anchored in the present moment. Jobe felt another barrier tremble, like an old wall finally giving way to time.

"Shall we go? My parents are going to start imagining things if we take too long."

"Oh, sure. Do you have some locker room fetish you need to fulfill?" Sarah asked, playfully, but just looking at Jobe and analyzing his expression had both of them laughing. "Joooooobe."

"What? I can dream," he shrugged, unable to hide the mischievous smile on his lips.

"Come on, for God's sake," she agreed, laughing, but keeping her hand intertwined with his. "And after dinner... maybe we can talk more about that idea of pointing at me on the field."

Jobe felt the embarrassment take over him again, but he didn't let go of her hand as they walked toward the parking lot. There were still many barriers to break, many fears to face. But for the first time in a long time, the idea of letting his guard down didn’t seem so scary.

Not when it was Sarah waiting on the other side.

***

The night had been unforgettable. Sunderland's game ended in victory, with a spectacular goal that sent the fans into a frenzy. Dinner with Jobe’s family, which had initially made Sarah extremely nervous, turned out to be an enjoyable experience, though still challenging. Jobe, on the other hand, felt like the happiest person in the world seeing Sarah interact with his family, even though she tried to mask her anxiety. Her presence in such a personal and important setting for him meant more than anyone could imagine.

When dinner ended and everyone started saying their goodbyes, Sarah took a deep breath, gathering the courage to make the invitation she had been rehearsing in her mind since the middle of the meal.

"Do you need to go back to the hotel now?" Sarah asked quietly, as Jobe finished hugging his older brother. Her English still had a strong accent, but the months of daily phone conversations had significantly improved her vocabulary.

Jobe turned to her with a smile that lit up his face. "Actually, yeah. Why?"

Sarah averted her gaze for a moment, nervously biting her lip. "I was thinking maybe... you could keep me company for a while. It's still early."

"I'd love to," Jobe replied, without hesitating for even a second. "Which hotel are you at?"

"The same as yours."

The smile that appeared on Jobe's face at that information was enough to freeze time; Sarah didn't know it yet, but she was very close to breaking down Jobe's walls.

They said their goodbyes to his family, with Denise, Jobe’s mother, hugging Sarah a little tighter than necessary and whispering something in her ear that made Sarah smile shyly. Mark, his father, gave Sarah a friendly pat on the shoulder and a meaningful look at his son.

When they were finally alone, they walked side by side toward the elevators. In the lit hallway, Sarah slowed her pace and turned to face him.

"It’s strange... finally being here... with you," Sarah commented, breaking the silence. "After so many video calls, it almost feels surreal... to just reach out and..." She hesitated, but her fingers brushed the air between them, stopping just inches from his.

Jobe stopped walking, his gaze meeting hers. Here, without the safety of the digital distance, every gesture carried a different weight. The realization that they were only a few steps away from her room, with their rooms separated by only a few meters of hallway, hung between them like an unspoken question.

When they reached Sarah’s room door, the reality of the situation hit them. They were just one step away from being completely alone for the first time, without the hum of the hotel in the background, without anyone around, without the mediation of phone screens, without the option to end the call when the silence became uncomfortable.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Jobe couldn't resist. He stepped up behind Sarah and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in the curve of her neck. She felt a shiver run down her spine as he took a deep breath.

"Your scent is amazing," he murmured against her skin, slowly moving to breathe in the scent of her hair. "How do you always smell so good?"

Sarah couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh. "It's just regular shampoo. Nothing special."

"I completely disagree," he replied, still not letting go of her, as if he feared she might vanish if he did. "I think I’m going to stay like this forever."

Sarah felt her heart race at the proximity. Every cell in her body was acutely aware of his presence behind her, the warmth radiating from him, the rhythm of his breath against her hair. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to enjoy that feeling she had imagined so many times during their late-night conversations.

"Are you okay?" Jobe asked, pulling away slightly so she could turn and face him.

"Yeah," she replied, turning in his arms. "It's just... really strange, finally being like this. Without a screen between us."

Jobe smiled, and Sarah realized that his smile was even more beautiful in person than on the video calls. His eyes sparkled in a way no camera could capture.

"You were so nervous at dinner," he commented, gently guiding her to sit on his lap as he adjusted himself on the edge of the bed. "I thought you were going to pass out when my mom asked about your age."

Sarah covered her face with her hands, mortified. "Was it that obvious? I tried to hide it!"

"It was adorable," he assured her, sitting beside her. "At first, I thought it was my dad who was making you nervous."

"Well, I thought it was your dad... that made me nervous, until I met your mom," Sarah confessed, lowering her hands to look at him. "She has that look that... seems to see everything I’m thinking."

Jobe laughed. "And she loved you. Everyone did, actually. My brother has already sent me three messages asking when they'll meet you again."

Sarah felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Really? I was so worried about making... a good impression."

"You could have shown up wearing a dinosaur costume, and they would have still loved you," he joked, gently running his fingers along her arm. "It’s impossible not to like you."

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, they stayed like that, absorbing the closeness, immersed in the reality of finally being together, breathing the same air, sharing the same space.

"Hey," Jobe suddenly said, breaking the moment. "Are you still thinking about that theory I sent you last week? About the government using electromagnetic waves to control people’s sleep patterns?"

"Jooobe, seriously?" Sarah laughed, pushing him onto the bed, unable to believe how he had completely broken the potential mood. She laughed, shaking her head. "Of course. We spent three hours... searching for articles... in the middle of the night. How could I forget?"

"It was fascinating! You can't deny it," he insisted, propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes sparkling in that way she recognized whenever he found something to share with her.

And damn. He looked hot.

"Fascinating, yes, but completely crazy," she replied, trying to find the right words in English. The language barrier was still a challenge, especially when trying to express more complex ideas or subtle nuances. "How did you say it? That they use... what’s the word... frequencies? To make people wake up in the middle of the night?"

"Exactly!" Jobe got excited, leaning forward. "And you have to admit, it makes sense. Why else would so many people have insomnia at the same time?"

"Hmm, I don’t know," Sarah pretended to think. "Maybe because they spend the whole night talking to someone in another city?"

Jobe feigned indignation. "Are you blaming me for your insomnia, Miss Sarah?"

"Maybe," she replied with a teasing smile. "Or maybe it’s the government’s waves."

They laughed together, and the familiarity of that absurd conversation brought comfort. It was like they were back to their late-night phone calls, but infinitely better because now they could see every little detail of each other's expressions, without delay, without blurry pixels.

"Do you want to watch something?" Jobe asked, pointing to the TV in the room.

Sarah nodded. "Sure. You can choose while... I take a quick shower? I’m feeling a little... sticky after all the excitement of the day."

"Perfect," he replied, grabbing the remote as Sarah picked out some clothes from her suitcase.

When Sarah came out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, wearing cotton shorts and a loose t-shirt, she found Jobe leaning against the headboard of the bed, with a mischievous smile on his face.

"What’s wrong?" she asked, drying some parts of her hair with the towel.

"I'm finally going to make you watch Star Wars," he announced triumphantly, pointing at the screen where the famous logo and yellow letters were ready to start.

Sarah groaned dramatically. "I knew you were going to take this opportunity!"

"You said you’ve never watched it. It’s practically a crime!"

"Okay, okay," she conceded, moving closer to the bed. "But I can’t promise I’ll stay awake till the end."

Jobe patted the space beside him. "Come on, lie down here. I’ll let you meet the best pillow."

Sarah furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

He tapped his chest, and she laughed. The sound filled the room, making Jobe laugh and beckon her with his finger – Sarah’s heart felt like it missed a beat, but she slowly approached.

He opened his arms, inviting her. "Like this, curled up. It’s the best way to watch Star Wars for the first time."

With her heart racing, Sarah settled beside him, letting him pull her into his chest. The sensation of his body against hers felt both strange and perfectly natural.

The movie began, but after a few minutes, Sarah furrowed her brow. "Jobe, it’s too fast."

"Oh, sorry!" he quickly grabbed the remote and navigated through the menu options. "I’ll put the subtitles in Portuguese."

When the subtitles appeared, Sarah settled more comfortably against him, trying to focus on the movie and not the feeling of his arm around her shoulders, or the warmth radiating from his body, or the steady, comforting rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear.

As the movie went on, Sarah allowed herself to relax more and more in Jobe’s arms. The physical closeness, after so many months of emotional and virtual proximity, was both comforting and electrifying. Every small movement, every shift in position sent waves of acute awareness through her body.

At some point, Jobe began absent-mindedly playing with a strand of her hair, wrapping it around his finger. The soft, repetitive touch made Sarah close her eyes briefly, absorbing the sensation.

"Are you paying attention?" he whispered against the top of her head.

"Kind of," Sarah confessed. "It’s hard to concentrate."

"On the movie or something else?" His voice had a playful tone but also carried a hint of tension, as if he was testing the limits of what he could say.

Sarah shifted to look at him, their faces dangerously close. "On everything," she replied honestly. "On you being here with me, after so long imagining what it would be like."

Jobe’s eyes darkened, and he lowered his gaze to her lips. Sarah felt the air between them grow thick, charged with possibilities and repressed desire. They were so close that she could feel his breath on her face, each exhale sending shivers down her spine.

Jobe subtly leaned in, closing the distance between them, his lips almost touching hers now. Sarah could swear she could taste him even before the contact.

At the last second, she turned her face, and his lips brushed lightly against her cheek. Sarah closed her eyes, her heart hammering against her ribs, her breath coming in small, trembling gasps.

Jobe felt a pang of uncertainty when Sarah turned away from the kiss, but the brief contact with the soft skin of her cheek was enough to send an electric shock through his body. He pulled back slightly, giving her space, but still keeping her in his arms.

‘Maybe she’s not ready,’ he thought, trying to calm his racing heart. ‘Or maybe I misread everything.’

But there was no denying the tension between them, the electricity that seemed to crackle in the air every time they touched. The long hours of deep conversations, of shared vulnerability through screens, had created an intimacy that now manifested physically, as if their bodies were magnets with opposite polarities, constantly pulled toward each other.

Sarah, for her part, felt her chest rise and fall quickly, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions overwhelming her. She wanted the kiss – God, how she wanted it – but fear paralyzed her at the last moment. Not fear of Jobe, but fear of what would come after, the intensity of what she felt for him, the implications of letting herself go completely for something that had started in such an unlikely way.

'What if I ruin everything?' she thought, as she pretended to focus on the movie. 'What if, after everything, it’s not like we imagined?'

But the feeling of his arms around her, the warmth of his body pressed against hers, the scent of his cologne mixed with something that was essentially Jobe – all these things seemed to pull her toward him, as if the gravity between them had increased exponentially.

On the screen, a space battle was unfolding, but neither of them was really watching. They were hyperconsciously aware of each other, of every little movement, every breath, every heartbeat.

"Sorry," Jobe murmured after several minutes of tense silence. "I shouldn’t have..."

"No," Sarah interrupted, turning to face him again. "Don’t apologize. It’s not that."

Their gazes met, and Sarah saw in those eyes all the vulnerability and desire that she herself felt. A heavy silence fell between them, loaded with unspoken words and unfulfilled wishes.

"What is it, then?" he asked, his voice little more than a rough whisper.

Sarah tried to find the words in English, but gave up. Some things were hard to express even in her native language. Instead, she slowly brought her hand to his face, her fingers softly tracing the line of his jaw. The touch was light as a feather, but filled with intention.

Jobe remained completely still, as if any movement could break the spell of the moment. His eyes never left hers, searching, questioning, waiting.

Sarah felt her whole body hum with anticipation as she leaned toward him again. This time, there was no hesitation in her movements. She closed her eyes and, finally, pressed her lips against his.

The first contact was gentle, almost reverent. A simple brushing of lips that lasted only a second, but felt like it contained entire universes. When she pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, she saw a whirlwind of emotions reflected there – surprise, joy, desire, relief.

Jobe let out a low sound, almost a contained moan, before sliding his hand to the back of her neck and pulling her back into another kiss. This one, unlike the first, had nothing of hesitation or gentleness. It was years of repressed desire, months of anticipation, weeks of anxiety – all culminating in this moment, this contact.

His lips moved against hers with controlled urgency, as if trying to hold back, but failing. Sarah felt her body respond, instinctively leaning closer to him, her fingers now tangling in the short hair on his head.

The kiss deepened naturally, their tongues meeting for the first time, exploring, tasting, discovering. Sarah couldn’t help but let out a sigh of pleasure when she felt his tongue slide against hers, sending waves of heat through her body. It was as if every nerve ending had awakened simultaneously.

Jobe’s hands, which had until then remained in safe places – one on her neck, the other on her waist – began to explore timidly. He slid his fingers under the hem of her t-shirt, touching the warm skin of her back, and Sarah arched involuntarily at the contact.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured against her lips, between kisses. "So, so beautiful."

Sarah felt a wave of confidence wash over her with his words. She shifted, adjusting her position to sit on his lap, one leg on either side of his hips. Jobe inhaled sharply at the new proximity, his hands instinctively finding her thighs, squeezing gently.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his breath quickening, his lips swollen from the kisses.

"More than okay," she replied, looking at him as if she were the most precious thing he had ever seen. "This is... perfect."

They kissed again, more deeply this time, their hands exploring with more boldness. Sarah felt his hands slide down her thighs, slowly rising, stopping respectfully at the hem of her shorts, as if asking for permission.

In response, she broke the kiss just long enough to pull her own t-shirt over her head, revealing herself to him. Jobe froze for a moment, his eyes scanning every exposed inch, with an expression of pure fascination, particularly on her breasts.

"Are you real?" he whispered, almost to himself, before bringing his hands to her bare waist, his thumbs tracing soft circles on her sensitive skin, gradually moving up toward her breasts.

Sarah smiled, feeling powerful with the effect she clearly had on him. “Very real,” she replied, helping him remove his shirt as well.

The skin-to-skin contact as she leaned in to kiss him again drew moans from both of them. It was an indescribable sensation, finally feeling the warmth of his body directly against hers, with no barriers. His hands explored her back, down to the curve of her waist, up again to finally touch her breasts.

“Perfect,” he murmured, as his thumb slid over her nipple, making her arch her back in response. “Made for me.”

He met her gaze, and Sarah felt herself melt at the intensity she found there. There was something deeply intimate about the way he never took his eyes off hers as his hands explored her body, as if he wanted to memorize every reaction, every sigh he provoked in her.

The remaining clothes were removed one by one, with pauses for kisses and caresses on each new piece of skin revealed. When her hand found the obvious bulge in his pants, Jobe let out a guttural moan, low and restrained, that made her whole body tingle with desire.

When they were finally completely naked, Jobe carefully reversed their positions, laying Sarah on the pillows and hovering over her for a moment, just looking at her with reverence. He stood over her in the missionary position, allowing their gazes to remain connected.

“I've dreamt about it,” he confessed, his voice husky with desire. “So many nights... you have no idea.” Sarah reached out to touch his face. “Me too,” she replied, feeling the heat rise through her body with the intensity of the moment. “Shit. Every day.”

He lowered his head to kiss her again, more gently this time, while his hands explored her body adoringly. Every touch seemed calculated to discover what made her sigh, what made her arch her back, what made her moan his name.

“May I?” he asked in a whisper, sliding his hand between her legs, his eyes never leaving hers.

Sarah nodded, unable to form coherent words as he began to touch her intimately, slowly discovering how to pleasure her. He carefully watched every expression on her face, adjusting his movements according to her responses.

“You're so beautiful like this,” he murmured, watching her squirm under his touch. “I want to see you fall apart for me, I want to hear my name on your lips.”

She couldn't resist for long under his dedication. When the pleasure hit her, Sarah dug her nails into his back, leaving marks that he would carry with pride for days to come. His name escaped her lips like a repeated prayer.

Jobe smiled, pleased with himself, before moving down, tracing a path of kisses down her body. “I want to taste you,” he said, looking down at her from between his legs. “May I?”

Before she could answer fully, he was already tasting her, his tongue exploring every inch with dedication and reverence. Sarah buried her fingers in his hair, arching up against his mouth, unable to contain the sounds of pleasure escaping her lips. Jobe seemed lost in her, as if he could spend hours there, completely devoted to pleasuring her.

When he finally pulled out, Sarah's body was already trembling with anticipation. He reached for the protection on his pants, quickly preparing himself before turning back to her, positioning himself between her legs.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his tone gentle despite the obvious need in his gaze.

“I am,” Sarah nodded, pulling him down for a deep kiss.

Their gazes met as he slowly joined her, moving with extreme caution at first, on the lookout for any sign of discomfort. “Tell me if I need to slow down,” he whispered against her lips.

But Sarah only wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, an action that drew a deep moan from Jobe's throat. He set a deliberately slow pace at first, savoring every sensation, every movement, every moan that escaped her lips.

“You're so perfect,” he whispered in her ear, between restrained moans. “So perfect for me... as if you were made for me...”

The intimacy of the moment went far beyond the physical. It was the culmination of months of emotional connection, of vulnerability shared through cell phone screens, now finally realized in the meeting of their bodies. Their eye contact remained almost uninterrupted, intensifying every sensation, every emotion.

“You're doing so well for me,” he murmured, words of praise that made her body respond in ways she had never experienced before. “My sweet girl... so perfect...”

As the need grew, the pace gradually increased. Her hands gripped his back, her nails leaving soft marks on his skin, while he alternated between burying his face in her neck and looking directly into her eyes, all the while murmuring words of adoration.

“Please tell me this is good for you,” he begged, his voice almost pleading. “Tell me I'm making you feel good...”

“It's amazing,” she managed to reply between moans. “You're amazing, Jobe... don't stop...”

Those words seemed to ignite something inside him. His movements became more intense, more determined, but without losing that connection, that undivided attention to her pleasure. His hands explored every inch of her body they could reach, as if trying to memorize every curve, every texture.

When he felt she was close to the edge again, he slid a hand between their bodies, touching her in a way that intensified her pleasure. “I want you to get there again,” he whispered. “I want to feel you come apart around me... give it for me, baby.”

The climax hit them almost simultaneously - her first, with a muffled cry against his shoulder, and then him, with a guttural moan and her name repeated like a sacred mantra. Jobe stayed connected to her for long moments afterwards, their bodies still trembling with the waves of pleasure, their jagged breaths mingling in the small space between their faces.

When they finally separated, Jobe didn't pull away completely. He lay down next to her and immediately pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair, inhaling her scent deeply.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her back. “Wasn't I too... intense?”

Sarah smiled against his chest, feeling completely satiated and protected. “It was perfect,” she murmured, still trying to normalize her breathing. “Better than I could have imagined.”

He kissed the top of her head, his fingers now sliding down her body, touching every little mark, every freckle, every little scar with reverence. “You were amazing to me,” he whispered. “So incredible... my sweet girl...”

They stayed like that for a few minutes, just absorbing each other's presence, until Jobe gently pulled away. “I'll get you a towel,” he said, kissing her softly before getting up.

When he returned from the bathroom, he cleaned her up with care and affection before returning to the bed and pulling her back into his arms. Sarah nestled against him, fitting perfectly into his embrace.

“I think we missed an important part of the movie,” he joked, indicating with his head the television where the Star Wars credits were silently rolling.

Sarah laughed, tracing lazy circles on his chest with her fingertips. “We can watch it again tomorrow.”

Jobe's smile faltered slightly. “Tomorrow... I have to go back to Sunderland tomorrow,” he reminded, a tone of sadness evident in his voice. “And you to Manchester.”

Sarah felt a tightness in her chest as she remembered this fact. After so much closeness, after finally overcoming that barrier, the idea of separating seemed almost painful.

"What time do you need to leave?" she asked, her voice small.

"We're leaving in the afternoon," he replied, pulling her closer as if trying to merge their bodies. "I should head back to my room before the night check. Actually... I should already be there now."

Sarah lifted her face to look at him. "Are you going to get in trouble?"

He smiled, gently touching her face. "It would be worth any trouble," he answered sincerely, then sighed. "But probably not. I'll say I was with my family."

She nodded, leaning back against him again. "I don't want you to go," she confessed softly.

"I don't want to go either," he admitted, intertwining his fingers with hers. "I spent so much time imagining what it would be like to be with you like this... and now it feels impossible to pull away."

"Then stay!"

***

As the rising sun began to cast its first rays through the gap in the curtain, Jobe slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the tangle of golden curls spread across the pillow next to him. Sarah was fast asleep, breathing softly, her face serene, and her lips slightly parted.

Jobe allowed himself to watch her for a moment. Her curls glistened in the touch of the morning light, creating the impression of a solar halo around her face. ‘She really does look like the sun,’ he thought, recalling the countless times he'd mentally compared her hair to golden rays.

He stretched his arm to grab his phone and noticed there were already several messages. Three were from Jude.

[07:15] Jude: Still alive, or did she kill you from exhaustion?

[07:45] Jude: You need to get back to your room before anyone notices you didn’t sleep there, remember? Your coach is going to kill you.

[08:10] Jude: Jobe, answer me. I just want to know if I need to come up with an excuse if I run into your coach downstairs.

Jobe smiled, typical of his older brother – always worried, always looking out for him, even when he pretended to just be being practical. He quickly typed:

[08:35] Jobe: I’m alive. More alive than ever, actually. I’ll make it in time, don’t worry.

[08:35] Jude: So, she’s really special then. Never seen you lose track of time because of someone.

[08:36] Jobe: She’s... different. I’ll tell you later.

Jobe set the phone aside and turned his attention back to Sarah. His fingers gently traced the contour of her shoulder, feeling the soft skin. He had never been someone for deep connections or opening up easily. But with Sarah, from the very first moment, something had been different. Like there was an invisible thread pulling him toward her, something he couldn’t – and didn’t want to – resist.

Sarah shifted under his touch, her eyes slowly opening, adjusting to the light. When she recognized him, a sleepy smile appeared on her lips.

"Good morning," she murmured, her voice hoarse from sleep.

"Good morning, sunshine," Jobe replied, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

Sarah stretched like a lazy cat, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Were you watching me sleep?" she asked, with a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

"Guilty," he admitted. "Your curls look like gold when the light hits them. Like sunrays."

Jobe knew how to make Sarah blush, and she hid her face against his chest. He noticed how different she was in the morning — softer, more vulnerable, almost shy. A completely opposite version of the confident woman from the night before. That duality fascinated him.

"What time do you need to leave?" Sarah asked, her voice muffled against his skin.

The question brought a weight to the atmosphere. Jobe felt her body tense slightly, as if she were bracing herself for the goodbye, for the inevitable moment when their bubble would burst.

"We still have a few hours," he replied, running his fingers through her curls. "I ordered breakfast in the room. I don't want to leave here yet."

Sarah lifted her gaze to him, her eyes revealing a mix of relief and uncertainty. Jobe could see the thoughts racing behind her eyes. Was she wondering if she was just another one for him? If what they shared meant something more than just the night before?

"What is it?" he asked softly, touching her chin.

Sarah bit her lower lip, hesitant. "Nothing, just..." she began, but stopped.

"Tell me," Jobe gently insisted. "What's going through that head?"

Sarah took a deep breath. "It's just that... this was really intense for me. And I don't know what it means for you. If it was just... you know, a one-night thing."

There was a fragility in her voice that made Jobe’s heart tighten. He had never been good with words, always preferring actions. But in that moment, he knew he needed to find the right words.

"Sarah," he said, holding her face in his hands. "I'm not good at this. I'm not good at opening up or getting to know new people. But from the moment I saw you, I knew it would be different with you. This isn’t just a one-night thing for me."

Her eyes sparkled with a mix of surprise and hope. "Really?”

In response, Jobe pulled her closer, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss. He felt her body melt against his, the vulnerability of the morning giving way to something hotter, more intense.

Her hands began to explore his body, and he felt desire growing again, as if all the hours spent the night before hadn’t satisfied anything, only increased the hunger they felt for each other.

"I want you," he whispered against her lips. "Again. Now."

Sarah responded with a soft moan, her legs wrapping around his waist as Jobe pulled her up onto him. The sunlight now bathed the entire room, illuminating their intertwined bodies.

There was something different about this moment — an urgency mixed with tenderness, as if every touch was both a goodbye and a promise. Sarah arched against him, her golden curls falling like a curtain around their faces, creating a world just for them.

Jobe gently turned her, placing her beneath him, his eyes never leaving hers. There was a raw intensity in his gaze as he moved, each motion deliberate, each response from her body engraving itself into his memory.

"Jobe," she gasped, her nails leaving light marks on his back.

He savored her name on her lips, the way it sounded like a prayer, a confession. He had never felt anything so right, so complete. When pleasure enveloped them, it wasn’t just physical, but something that seemed to overflow, filling every empty space Jobe never knew existed inside him.

Then, as they caught their breath, intertwined under the disheveled sheets, Jobe traced invisible patterns on her skin. "I want to show you something," he said, suddenly.

Sarah watched him with curiosity as he stood up and went to the bathroom. She heard the sound of running water, and soon Jobe reappeared, extending his hand to her.

"Shower?" he invited with a smile.

Sarah took his hand, letting him guide her to the bathroom where the steam was already beginning to fill the room. Jobe noticed how she seemed small next to him, her delicacy contrasting with his athletic frame.

Without warning, he lifted her in his arms, provoking a small gasp of surprise followed by her laughter.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked, her arms automatically wrapping around his neck.

"I’ve been dying to do this with you," he replied, carrying her into the shower.

The hot water fell over them, and Sarah closed her eyes, savoring the sensation. Jobe watched, fascinated, as her golden curls darkened with the water, sticking to the skin of her shoulders and back.

He grabbed the soap and began to glide it over her shoulders, turning the shower into a ritual of care and intimacy. Sarah sighed under his touch, her eyes opening to meet his.

"I never imagined you’d be like this," she confessed.

"Like what?"

"So... present. So attentive." Her hands slid up his wet chest. "Football players are usually known for being... distant, only concerned with themselves."

Jobe felt a tightening in his chest. Was she comparing him to others? Had she been just one among many for him in the past?

"I'm not like the others," was all he could say, his voice lower than he'd intended.

Sarah seemed to notice the change in his mood and moved closer, the water running between their bodies. "I know," she whispered. "That's why... that's why I'm scared."

"Scared of what?"

"That it will end the moment you walk out that door. That it will just be a beautiful, fleeting memory."

The vulnerability in her voice hit Jobe hard. He had never cared before about what was left behind. But now, the thought of Sarah thinking she was just another one made his stomach churn.

"Look at me," he asked, gently lifting her chin. "I live in Sunderland, and you live in Manchester. It's not the end of the world. It’s just a few hours away, not another planet."

A small smile appeared on her lips. "Are you suggesting that...?"

A knock on the door interrupted the moment. Breakfast had arrived.

They dried off and dressed quickly, Jobe wrapping Sarah in one of the hotel’s fluffy robes, which seemed to swallow her whole. The sight of her like that, with wet hair and a makeup-free face, swimming in her oversized robe, made something inside him melt.

"You look adorable," he said, kissing the tip of her nose as he opened the door for room service.

They had breakfast in bed, feeding each other pieces of fruit and stealing kisses between sips of coffee. The atmosphere was lazy and intimate, as if they were isolated from the rest of the world.

It was the shrill ring of Jobe’s phone that finally broke the bubble. Chris’s name flashed on the screen.

"I have to take this," he said, throwing an apologetic look at Sarah before answering the call. "Hey, Chris."

"Where the hell are you, man? The bus leaves in an hour, and the coach is already asking about you. He said you were in the room talking to your family, but he doesn’t seem convinced."

Jobe felt the weight of reality return. "I’m coming down. I’ll be there in ten minutes."

"You better be," Chris replied. "She must really be special if you're risking the coach’s wrath like this."

Jobe looked at Sarah, who was silently watching the conversation, a piece of toast forgotten in her hand. "She is," he simply replied before hanging up.

The silence that followed seemed loaded with all the unspoken words between them. Jobe stood up and started gathering his scattered belongings.

"I have to go," he said the obvious, hating the finality in his voice.

Sarah nodded, putting the plate aside and hugging her knees to her chest. "I know."

Jobe stopped what he was doing and sat beside her on the bed. "Hey," he softly called. "This isn’t goodbye." Sarah tried to smile, but didn’t reach her eyes. "People always say that."

"I’m not 'people,'" Jobe retorted, holding her face in his hands. "Look, I don’t know exactly what’s happening between us, but I know I don’t want it to end here. It’s not just distance that will keep me away from you."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, Sarah couldn’t hide her disbelief. "Do you really want..."

"I want much more than that," he admitted, surprised by his own honesty. "I want to know you. For real. All the details, all the stories. I want to know what makes you laugh and what keeps you awake at night."

A genuine smile finally lit up Sarah’s face. "I want that too."

Jobe finished getting dressed, aware of her gaze following every move he made. When he was ready, he sat next to her again, taking her hands in his.

"I need to go now," he said. "But before..."

He pulled out his phone and opened the camera. "I haven’t forgotten the picture," he joked, trying to ease the tension in the moment.

Sarah laughed and took a few portraits. During one of their long calls, he had promised he would keep a picture of Sarah to remind her how much better she would look after meeting him. A boost of confidence, but not a lie.

When he handed the phone back, Jobe immediately went to check the photos. Smiling, in a different way. But he didn’t see when Sarah took the opportunity to capture the exact moment.

"Two can play this game," she said, a smile on her lips.

"Now you have mine too," Jobe couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

Sarah had an interesting effect on him.

She nodded, biting her lower lip to hold back the emotion. Jobe leaned in and kissed her, a slow and deep kiss that carried all the feelings he still didn’t know how to express in words. He savored the taste of her, memorizing the sensation, the aroma, the texture of her soft lips against his.

When he pulled away, he saw her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Are you going to run away from me, Sarah Lima?" he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion.

She shook her head. "No. And you?"

Jobe smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his eyes. "You’re going to need a lot more than living in another city to get rid of me."

With one last kiss, he stood up and grabbed his hoodie. At the door, he turned to look at her one last time, wrapped in the oversized robe, her golden curls beginning to dry in rebellious spirals, her eyes fixed on him.

"See you soon," he promised. It wasn’t goodbye. It was just the beginning.

As he descended in the elevator, Jobe sent a message to Jude:

[09:47] Jobe: I think I just met someone who could change everything.

[09:48] Jude: Finally, my little brother is growing up. I can’t wait to hear this story.

Jobe smiled at his phone, slipping it into his pocket. For the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to the future and the possibilities it brought. Sarah wasn’t just another one. She was the beginning of something new, something he was willing to explore, no matter the distance between them.

dividers by @cafekitsune

pictures from pinterest and ig

If you want to join the tag, let me know. Until next time 💋

82 notes · View notes

arminsumi · 2 years ago

Note

may i request Getou with a clingy reader? Has her on his lap, cradling her, playing with her hair while she naps on him? Playing with his hands just generally almost starstruck by him🙇

I lloovvvve your writing sm 💕💕

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

A/N: aaa thank you sugarplum!! hope i delivered eheh i'm still getting used to writing for Sugie <3

Pairing: GETO Suguru x reader

Summary: Geto absolutely indulges in your clinginess 🫠💕

Warnings; nicknames (baby)

— While he's cooking in the kitchen, you float over to him and wrap your arms around his midriff, earning a tender smile from his lips. A moment later, he's grabbing under your thighs and hoisting you up onto the kitchen countertop to give you the kisses you cravingly asked for.

"Baby needs so much love, huh?" he smirks into the kiss, flustering you. "Nah-ah, stay right there. Let me love you."

— He absolutely notices when you stare. "Mesmerized by something?" he teases, "Ah, I'm just teasing, baby. I don't mind if you stare." he winks.

"C'mere, you can get a closer look if you're on my lap." he teases again, chuckling when you don't hesitate to perch yourself on his lap. You can feel how muscular his thighs are, and his arms too, as he engulfs you with a strong embrace and practically cradles you on his lap.

— "You're the sweetest thing." he murmurs into your hair when you fall asleep laid on his chest.

😔 he's texting Satoru about how cute you are (and Satoru is being dramatic like omg I'm your best friend is she stealing u away wtf)

— You're adoringly staring at him while he indulges in his hobby of sketching landscapes. He's so focused that he doesn't brush his strands of hair out of his face; they dangle there distractingly, so you tuck them behind his ear yourself.

His reaction catches you off guard; he comes in for a thankful peck at your cheek. "Thanks angel." he murmurs. "Come closer, put your head on my shoulder." he commands softly, as if he read your mind.

You don't hesitate to place your head there, watching intently as his pencil strokes across the paper.

— Feeling over his smooth hands 🥺 his hands are so smooth and soft you just like touching them, drifting your fingertips across them, toying with his fingers.

He doesn't mind at all, munching on food and reading through emails (rifling through Satoru's spam). Morning light fills your shared apartment.

Eyes still glued to the screen, he feeds you a little bit of whatever he's eating.

"Careful, it's really hot." he says, and blows on it for you before you can, then delivers it right into your mouth.

— He's a tired boy, often laying on his bed with that dazed look of sleep deprivation. You lurk for a while before crawling onto his bed, curling up unannounced on his chest.

Eyes closed, he automatically brings his hand to caress your shoulder while you lay there, snuggling into his chest as if you want to get under his skin to be as close as possible.

— "Can I tie your hair up?" you ask. He happily lets you, "Mhm, you do it better than me, after all." he replies, lowering himself so you can reach. Taking his hair into your hands and brushing it, tying it up into whatever style suits the day; a little ponytail? A little bun? Maybe a half-up, half-down look. He knows that's your favorite, so he picks that one.

"You're so gentle." he compliments, giving you a peck after you've put his hair up. "Thanks love."

1K notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 1 year ago

Text

it's easy fallin' in love with you

AN | Nothing much to see here, just the night you meet Steve Harrington and fall in love. 💕

Warnings | Mild Language

Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Steve, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“That guy’s been staring at you all night,” Allie nudged your arm and subtly nodded her head across the crowded bar. You tried to inconspicuously follow her gaze and found yourself looking at the very man that had caught your eye from the moment you’d arrived, “he’s totally checking you out.”

“He’s cute,” you whispered into her ear. She looked him over and tutted slightly, “don’t be like that!”

“He’s fine,” she offered you a wolfish smile, “but he’s totally your type. Go and talk to him!”

“I shouldn’t,” you insisted softly, although you really wanted to. The boy - man - was tall and lithe with golden sun kissed skin and a glorious head of hair. He was handsome in a traditional, yet untraditional way, and well dressed to boot. You could see that his eyes, even from a distance, were a pretty honey brown. When he caught you looking at him, he raised his hand in a small little half wave before offering a lopsided grin, “I really shouldn’t.”

“You really should,” she insisted, nudging you in his direction, “whats the worst that could happen?”

“He could break my heart,” you whispered, starting at your shoes on the sticky bar floor, “it’s stupid. He probably really can’t even see me properly. He’d be disappointed so why bother, you know?”

“Hi,” you froze at the sound of the voice and turned your gaze up to the pretty boy. He was smiling prettily, all teeth and plush lips. Your heart started to pound in your chest, as you opened and closed your mouth a few times, staring at him wordlessly, “I’m Steve.”

“Hi Steve,” Allie wrapped her arm around your shoulders and grinned widely at him. She offered him your name as you felt your entire face warming up, “my lovely friend here has been talking about you all night. She thinks you’re super cute.”

“Allie,” you hissed sharply as you came to your senses. You were going to kill her at the first opportunity you had, “stop.”

“Love you,” she whispered softly with a kiss to your cheek as she pushed you towards him, “I’ve gotta go. Buh-bye!”

You watched her go with a helpless expression, fully aware that Steve was watching you intently. Sighing softly you looked back at him, “sorry about her, she’s…a lot.”

“No worries,” he had such an easy going manner about him, “if it’s easy consolation, I think you’re super cute too.”

“Oh, I-I…” you weren’t even sure what to say or do. It had been a long time since anyone had caught your eye and even longer since someone had so openly shown you so much interest, “do you…want to grab a drink?”

“Yeah,” he agreed easily, “I do.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The two of you were in a small, cozy booth towards the back of the bar, the lights low and only the smallest bit of space between the two of you. When you’d grabbed your drinks, he’d easily guessed your drink of choice and had beaten you to paying. Since then, you’d been engrossed in conversation, your drinks half consumed but long forgotten.

In the past you’d need a large number of drinks in order to make through almost any date, but you didn’t feel like that was necessary with Steve. He was so easy to talk to and get along with that it was almost scary. But you found yourself so drawn to him that it felt like you’d been destined to meet each other. You had never really believed in any of that before, but you weren’t going to question it either - not tonight, not when everything felt so good and so right.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked after a while, catching you off guard. You raised an eyebrow, not entirely against the idea.

“Now? This late?” you asked and he laughed - a warm, pretty sound that made your heart beat a little faster, “what are we going to do?”

This was the point where you half expected him to suggest going back to his place. One night stands weren’t really your thing; part of you was already sad to let him down. He might have sensed what you were thinking and feeling because he quickly shook his head, “no - no. Not that. I don’t want-”

“Oh,”

“No, I mean I do,” he groaned as he ran his hands through his thick, luscious hair, “respectfully I do and would absolutely do that, but I have something different in mind.”

You were giggling now, a pretty sound that Steve thoroughly enjoyed. You grabbed your drink and finished off the rest before leaning closer towards him, “what did you have in mind then?”

“Have you ever done karaoke before?” he had a mischievous look on his face as your mouth dropped open. That was definitely not on your bingo card for the evening; then again, neither had meeting Steve.

“Surprisingly not,” you sat back and shook your head in amusement, “are we going to do karaoke, Steve?”

“We’re going to do karaoke. What do you say?” You slid out of the booth and held out your hand to him, motioning your head towards the door.

“Don’t make me regret this,” but you already knew that you were going to enjoy this night. He was staring at you as though you had hung the stars and the moon.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

An hour later your sides were sore from laughing too much and your face hurt from smiling too much. The two of you had just done a round of loud, fun karaoke, picking the worst possible songs for both of your voices. But none of that mattered - you were having too much fun to think about anything else. Plus, everyone around you was either also taking part of the bad karaoke or a few drinks in and couldn’t tell the difference between actual talent and the worst thing they’d ever heard.

Steve had helped you off the stage, his frame warm around yours. He looked at you, sweaty and tousled but still wickedly handsome. It was hard to hear over the thump of the music and the half-drunk singing in the background so you leaned into his space, “that was so much fun.”

You took advantage of the moment and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His cheeks flushed even redder than before, “have you ever gone to the beach at midnight?”

“No,” your eyes grew wide as he started towards the exit, taking your hand in his, “Steve. Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” he insisted in a way that made you feel warm and hopeful but also so alive. You nodded eagerly and let him take the lead, pulling you through the thick throng of people and back into the chill of the evening air. As soon as he noticed you shivering slightly, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, “that should be better.”

“Thank you,” you grinned at him. It wasn’t like you to just go with a man you’d just met and do all of these things with them. But this wasn’t just any sort of ordinary night and Steve didn’t feel like any sort of guy, “let’s go to the beach then!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you got there, it was late and it was peaceful and there weren’t many people out. The beaches of Chicago weren’t a huge attraction this late at night. You walked around the waterline and he playfully threatened to throw you into the water, and pretended to run away from him. The ease with which the two of you got along was magical. Eventually, the two of you found a spot in the sand and sat in peaceful, contemplative silence.

“I’ve never really watched a sunrise like this before,” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder. The two of you were sitting in the sand, feet buried, as you watched the sun slowly start to rise in the distance. The sun was turning from inky blues to pretty pinks and purples and eventually to gold and orange, “it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, reaching for your hand and taking it in his, and giving it a gentle squeeze, “it is. I like coming out here sometimes because it’s so quiet and peaceful. Almost no one else is awake.”

“As much as I like sleeping in, I could get used to this sometimes,” you stifled a yawn as you watched the waves gently lap and break in the distance. You felt your tummy rumble, and a brilliant idea popped up in your mind, “do you want to get breakfast?”

This time it was his turn to look at you in surprise, the corners of his mouth perking up in a small smile, “starving. What’d you have in mind?”

“There’s this little hole in the wall diner that I love. They’ve got the best pancakes and eggs in the city easily and its one of those secrets you have to share with people,” you felt silly getting so excited about food, diner food at that, but judging from the look on Steve’s face, you had nothing to worry about, “and I would love to let you in on this well kept secret.”

“Consider me intrigued, hungry, and honored,” there was a wickedly happy glint in his eye as he slowly stood up and brushed the sand bits off himself. Helped you to your feet and proceeded to dust you off without you even asking or anything. That little bit made your heart practically flutter with happiness, “just give me directions and we’re on the way, baby.”

You looked at him, all sleepy and starry eyed with a saccharine smile, “I like you, Steve Harrington. It feels like I’ve known you my entire life.”

“I like you too,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing a pretty pastel pink, “I feel like you’ve always been here.”

The two of you looked at each other for a few moments before he gently took your face in his hands and kissed you, slow and deep. You liked kissing him; it felt familiar and new all at once. Plus, you know, he was an excellent kisser which didn’t hurt anything.

“If that’s how you feel about me now,” you teased when he pulled away, shy and bashful, “wait until try the pancakes - you’ll love me then.”

“I believe you,” and you believed in what he was saying, “let’s go!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“So?” you asked in between bites of sweet, delicious fluffy pancakes, “what do you think?”

Steve had just stuffed a huge bite into his own mouth but made a small sound of content. You eaned back in your seat with a small, satisfied expression on your face. It was still early in the morning and there were only a few customers in the diner besides the two of you. The waitress had been loud, cheery, and kind and made you feel so at home and comfortable.

“Delicious,” he agreed as he swallowed the bite, “you definitely weren’t lying.”

“That’s one thing I don’t do,” you promised, “I don’t lie.”

“Tell me more,” he took a sip of the coffee and looked at you eagerly, “tell me everything about you. I want to know everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirmed, “I want to know it all.”

“How much time you got?” you were joking, but you knew that he was sincere in his questioning.

“For you? All the time in the world,” his smile was winning, big and pretty and you wanted to see it for the rest of your days.

Was it possible to be in love with the man that had been a total stranger at the start of evening? Because you were pretty sure that had just happened.

“Okay,” you bit the inside of your cheek to keep the smile from breaking your face, “only if you promise to tell me everything about you.”

“Deal.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“What are you thinking about, huh?” Steve came back into the living room, two mugs of hot chocolate in hands, topped off with mini marshmallows. He set them on the coffee table before sitting back down next to you. You leaned into him and leaned your head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around you.

“Nothing much,” you whispered softly, turning your head to press a kiss to his cheek, “just thinking about the night we met.”

He chuckled fondly, giving you a small squeeze, “it feels like it was just yesterday sometimes. Other times it felt like it was a hundred years. That was a good night.”

“Yeah, it really was,” you agreed, “good thing Allie was so…loud and obnoxious or we might have ever met.”

“Maybe not that night,” Steve shifted so he could properly look at you, “but we’d have met one way or another. I’m sure of that.”

“Yeah?” your smile stretched across your entire face as you beamed at him. He gently put his hands on the side of your face, brushing his thumb gently over your cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, “I’m so in love with you, Steve Harrington.”

“And I’m so in-”

“Daddy,” you heard the sound of her small, soft voice before you heard her small footsteps or saw her come into view, “Mama.”

“Hey Busy Miss Lizzy,” you held out your arms to her and she padded her way over, clutching onto her favorite stuffed dog, “what are you doing up, baby?”

She clambered her way onto the couch, and made herself comfortable in Steve’s lap, “I couldn’t sleep. I had a bad dream.”

In her little voice it sounded more like a bad dweam, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to laugh. You stroked her chubby little sweet as Steve kissed the top of her curls, “do you want to stay with us for a little bit?”

“Yes,” she looked between you and Steve with a hopeful little look, “please.”

“C’mon,” you grabbed the blanket at the end of the couch and draped it over the three of you, “that’s better. You two comfy?”

“Mhmm,” Steve hummed in content, happy to be surrounded by his favorite girls, “perfect.”

“Me too,” Lizzy grinned happily, displaying her little gap toothed grin, “can I have some hot chocolate?”

You exchanged a look with Steve before laughing softly.

You hadn’t imagined any of this the night you’d met him entirely by chance. But, you wouldn’t have changed a thing.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #joe keery #st

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forthebrokenheartedthings · 6 days ago

Note

Would you be willing to write about the reader and Bucky having a movie night in? Maybe she buys them matching pajamas and he’s never had matching anything with anyone before

Thank you for the req, nonnie! ❤️ I hope this is what you were looking for 💕

Dangerously Charming 💕

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

You were halfway through arranging the fortress of blankets on the couch when you heard the bathroom door creak open.

Bucky stepped out slowly, barefoot on the wooden floor, tugging at the hem of the blue plaid pajama top. The pants hung a little loose on his hips. He glanced up at you like he was bracing for impact.

“Don’t laugh,” he warned immediately, his brows lifting.

You pressed your lips together, but you could already feel a giggle bubbling up in your chest. “I’m not laughing.”

“You are absolutely laughing.”

“I’m admiring,” you corrected solemnly. “It’s a totally different thing.”

He gave you a flat look, then looked down at himself again, like maybe if he studied the pajamas hard enough they’d magically turn into something less…cute. “I feel like an overgrown Christmas ornament.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Well, you do look a little bit like a Hallmark movie love interest right now.”

He groaned softly, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means,” you said, stepping over and holding up your own matching pajama shirt, “that you are festive, approachable, and approximately ten seconds away from falling in love over hot cocoa.”

He tried so hard not to smile, but it cracked through anyway, soft and reluctant. “You’re gonna make me drink hot cocoa too, aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” you said. “I have marshmallows and everything.”

Bucky closed his eyes, took a slow breath like he was summoning his last scrap of dignity, and opened them again to look at you. “You really planned all this?”

You nodded, your grin widening. “I planned everything. Matching pajamas, blanket fort, your favorite Carmel popcorn, and a triple feature.”

He blinked. “Triple feature?”

“Action, comedy, and something with questionable special effects.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re…ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously prepared,” you corrected, poking him lightly in the chest.

His hand came up automatically to catch yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles. He didn’t let go right away.

For a second, he just looked down at your joined hands. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, thoughtful. “I’ve never had…matching anything. With someone. Not like this.”

Your chest squeezed, and you set your other hand over his so he couldn’t pull away. “Well,” you murmured, “you do now.”

He swallowed hard, eyes flicking to your face, and you could see the way that simple truth hit him—like it was something he’d never let himself want before but suddenly couldn’t imagine giving up.

“You sure you’re okay with me wearing this?” he asked, trying for teasing but not quite pulling it off.

You pretended to consider again. “You know, I don’t know if I can handle it.”

His brows lifted. “Yeah?”

“You’re dangerously charming in plaid.”

That startled a real laugh out of him—low and warm. “Dangerously charming,” he repeated, like he was trying out the words.

“Mm-hm. A menace, really.”

He leaned in a little, his voice dipping softer. “Guess you’ll have to keep a close eye on me.”

You smiled up at him. “That was the plan.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, the way he sometimes did when he thought you wouldn’t notice—like he was memorizing something he wasn’t sure he deserved to keep. Then he bent to press a kiss to your temple, lingering just long enough to make your heart trip over itself.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, still close enough that you could feel the words against your skin.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you whispered back.

His thumb traced along your knuckles again. “Yeah,” he said, almost to himself, “I do.”

You kissed the tip of his nose—because you knew it would fluster him—and sure enough, he scrunched it and looked away, ears turning pink.

“Come on,” you said, tugging his hand to lead him to the couch. “The sooner we start, the sooner you can critique every bad stunt in the action movie.”

“I’m not gonna—”

“You always do,” you cut in, already laughing.

He tried to look offended, but you could see the smile threatening at the corners of his mouth as he let you pull him down beside you.

The opening credits started rolling, and he settled his arm carefully along the back of the couch, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. A moment later, he hooked his fingers into the edge of your sleeve and gave the tiniest tug—an unspoken question you were more than happy to answer by leaning in close.

“Dangerously charming,” you whispered, just to watch the way his face softened again.

And Bucky didn’t let go of you once.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #bucky fluff #thanks for the ask!

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cheesysoup-arlo · 1 year ago

Text

hanging out takes an interesting turn (Janis x fem!reader)

Smut- read at your own risk

(There is also some fluff but mostly smut lol)

It’s spring break and (Y/N) is bored out of her mind. *ping* suddenly someone texts (Y/N). She sees that it’s from Janis. Smiles even before reading.

J💕: hey wanna come over and watch movies?

(Y/N): yeah

(Y/N): when should I head over?

J💕: I’m setting up rn so maybe in like 30?

(Y/N): ok see you soon

Without waiting for a response (Y/N) rushes to get ready. She wants to look nice but not overdressed. She decides to wear her favorite pants and her sweater Janis said looked cute on her. (Y/N) smiles and blushes looking back on that interaction. Snapping out of her daydream to check her phone. She has about 10 minutes before she has to leave. Putting on some very light makeup (a little blush, mascara and cherry lipgloss). Packing a small bag with a couple snacks. “Bye mom I’m going to my friend’s house” (Y/N) says as she walks out the door. Taking the short drive to Janis’ house and parking. (Y/N) goes to the door and is gonna knock but gets nervous and texts Janis instead.

(Y/N): hey Jan I’m outside

J💕: ok I’ll be there in just a sec

~~~~

Janis is setting up the projector in her garage when she gets a text.

(Y/N)🥰: hey Jan I’m outside

Janis smiles at her phone and texts back while making sure everything looks good.

Janis🖤: ok I’ll be there in just a sec

She opens the door to see (Y/N) looking pretty and hot- wait…did Janis just think (Y/N) looks hot? That’s new…

~~~~

(Y/N) sees Janis. Hair a little messy, wearing some black cargo pants with a couple of paint stains, and a band tee with the neck cut off making the shirt fall off her shoulder exposing Janis’s bra strap. (Y/N)’s eyes linger for a little longer than usual. Janis looked amazing, hot? Yeah hot. “Um I set everything up in the garage, follow me” Janis says holding the door open for (Y/N). (Y/N) just smiles following Janis in. Is it suddenly a little hotter? Or was (Y/N) maybe just…no her and Janis were just friends and…(Y/N)’s eyes wonder to Janis’ ass WOAH WHY WAS SHE LOOKING THERE! Her and Janis are just friends right? Pulling (Y/N) out of her thoughts Janis says “ta da” showing off her hard work to (Y/N). “Woah this is amazing, did you do all of this just for me?” (Y/N) asks jokingly. “Um yeah actually…” Janis says blushing a little. Wait Janis is blushing? (Y/N) smirks a little. “So what movie should we watch beautiful? (Y/N) asks trying to be flirty. Janis is now blushing a lot. “Um uh whatever you want to watch” Janis says trying to hide her blush while logging into her computer. They put on a movie, snuggling close, REALLY CLOSE. (Y/N) lays on Janis’ exposed shoulder, absentmindedly drawing patterns on Janis’ thigh. Janis is no longer focused on the movie. Her breath catching in her throat. “Um (Y/N)?” Janis says feeling a little brave. “Yes, beautiful?” (Y/N) says making eye contact with Janis. Janis looks at (Y/N)’s eyes then lips then back to her eyes. “Oh?” (Y/N) says blushing. “C-can I kiss you?” Janis says hesitantly. “Yes please” (Y/N) says, starting to lean in. Janis leans in connecting their lips. The kiss is soft but passionate. They both pull away for air. “Woah” Janis says blushing. “Can we um do that again” (Y/N) asks shyly. “Oh absolutely” Janis says pulling (Y/N) in for a slightly rougher, needier kiss. (Y/N)’s body reacts before her brain and she lets out a small moan. Blushing and pulling away when she realizes what she did. “Oh you like that don’t you baby?” Janis says. The pet name sends an electrifying sensation through out (Y/N)’s body and a tingling sensation in there core. “Call me that again” (Y/N) says sounding needy. “Can I kiss you again baby?” Janis says smirking. (Y/N) pulls Janis in for a needy kiss completely forgetting about the movie. The needy kids turns into a full blown make out session. They both start getting a little handsy. Janis pauses “are you sure you want this baby? We don’t have to do more if you don’t want to?” (Y/N) rolls her eyes and lets out a small chuckle. “I want this, I really want this, I want you Janis.” Janis blushes and kisses (Y/N)’s lips, then her neck, slipping her hands under (Y/N)’s sweater. “Hmm can we take this off I wanna see your beautiful body baby” Janis says. (Y/N) very quickly takes off her sweater. “Ooo that needy are you?” Janis jokes. “shut up and kiss me pretty girl” (Y/N) says wrapping her arms around the back of Janis’ head to bring her closer. “Mmm” Janis hums pulling (Y/N) on to her lap. Once again pulling away for air, (Y/N) tugs at Janis’ shirt, “can you please take this off, I wanna kiss you all over” Janis very quickly takes off her shirt and (Y/N) slowly pushes her down so she’s laying on her back with (Y/N) straddling her. (Y/N) slow kisses Janis neck, earning a moan from Janis. Kissing further down till she reaches the waist band of Janis’ pants, “May I?” (Y/N) asks, Janis nods shyly. “No sweetheart I need words” (Y/N) says hands on Janis’ thighs waiting for verbal confirmation. “please mmm please just fuck me” Janis whimpered desperately. (Y/N) moaned, taking off Janis’ pants, see in the wet spot forming on her underwear. Seeing this made (Y/N)’s walls clench around nothing. “Mm look at you” (Y/N) hummed. Janis sat up “let’s get your pants off too” taking off (Y/N)’ pants, they both admired each other’s naked bodies for a second. (Y/N) brought Janis in for a passionate kiss causing them both to moan in sync. (Y/N) looked at Janis, pupils blown with lust, unable to form words letting out a needy moan.

Janis’ hand found it’s way to (Y/N)’s clothed clit, slowly circling it with her thumb. (Y/N)’s hips bucked desperately needing more. “Needy needy girl” Janis said kissing the girl squirming underneath her. Slowly pulling off (Y/N)’s underwear not breaking eye contact. Playing with her folds to collect some of (Y/N)’s wetness then inserting a finger into her tight hole. (Y/N) moaned loudly, it felt amazing. “You think you can handle two fingers princess?” Janis questioned. “Mmm fuck yeah” (Y/N) mumbled. Janis started steadily pumping two fingers in and out of (Y/N) while also circling her clit. The stimulation was about to send (Y/N) over the edge “J-Janis mmm I’m gonna uuuuuhhh-“ (Y/N)’s walls clenching “cum princess, cum for me” Janis said sweetly. (Y/N) came hard a brain fogging orgasm. “Mmm J…can I return the favor now” (Y/N) asked drawing circles on Janis’ thigh, causing Janis’ breath to hitch in her throat “mmm yeah princess what do you wanna do to me” (Y/N) slowly kissed down Janis’ body, “you know I’m feeling a little hungry” (Y/N) said with a smirk, licking a long slow gentle lick between Janis’ folds sending shivers down the girl’s back “oh fuck please yes” Janis mumbles over come by pleasure. As (Y/N) ate out Janis she started to pull (Y/N)’s head closer needing more contact. “(Y/N) mmm you’re so uuuuhhhh mmm I’m gonna cummm” Janis moaned loudly. “Cum for me sweetheart cum all over my face” (Y/N)’s words sent vibrations through Janis’ core making her see stars and cum hard and fast. (Y/N) licked up all of Janis’ juices then pulling her into a kiss so she could taste herself. Janis moaned into the kiss. “That was amazing, mind blowing, you’re really good” Janis said slightly out of breath. (Y/N) smirked and blushed “you’re really good too…j?” (Y/N) sounded a little worried. “Was this just like a one time thing or…” Janis thought (Y/N) was absolutely adorable for asking this. “Hmm I don’t know baby…do you want it to be a one time thing?” “NO I mean no” (Y/N) says trying to play it off. “Janis, will you be my girlfriend” says (Y/N) very quickly. Janis kisses (Y/N) “absolutely, I would love to be you girlfriend” (Y/N) giggles a little “hmm girlfriend can we cuddle and watch a Disney movie” Janis jokes, “like this or do we need clothes” (Y/N) thinks for a minute, “like this” tangling their legs together and kissing her girlfriend. Janis plays with (Y/N)’s hair. “(Y/N)?” Janis whispers. “Yeah?” (Y/N) answers slightly confused. Janis kisses her. (Y/N) smiles and blushes. They cuddle closer as they both slowly doze off towards the end of the movie.

A/N: this is my first time writing smut so I’m sorry if it’s bad lol

#mean girls #janis ‘imi’ike #janis ‘imi’ike x reader

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blossomwritesthings · 2 years ago

Note

A fic where Felix helps reader through night paranoia?

I understand if this topic is sensitive or if you're not comfortable writing it, thank you anyway! :)

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

pairing: felix x fem!reader (afab)

genre: nonidol!felix. slight confession au. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: mild thematic elements. a shit ton of angst (this includes: mentions of hallucinations at night, being scared of the dark, high amounts of anxiety/panic attacks, sleep paralysis demons, insomnia). reader deals with night paranoia. felix knows how to take care of her at night. pet names (affectionately). cute fluffy moments between reader/felix.

word count: 3.4k

summary: ever since you were a little girl, you've had to battle the shadowy demons away from the edges of your mind each and every night. and you're used to dealing with it at this point. but sometimes, you just need your boyfriend felix to help you through the bone-chilling nights.

a/n: first of all, thanks for requesting this, anon! i've never written something with this kind of topic before and i thoroughly enjoyed it (and no, this topic isn't sensitive for me 😊). actually, while researching for this, i came to the realization that i might actually suffer from night paranoia myself. like, i get all panicky when i'm alone in my room at night and i physically can't feel comfortable/fall asleep unless i check under my bed/all the rooms around me. all of the horror content i've consumed since i was young is probably catching up to me now lol! 😂 hope you enjoy this anon, thanks for requesting~ 💕

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

For most of your life, you’ve suffered from night paranoia.

As a little girl, it started as just small little things late at night. Like how you always needed to check in your closet for ‘monsters,’ and how you wouldn’t feel satisfied until your parents combed the entirety of your room for any bad guys.

Then, in middle school, it grew so that you were afraid of the dark - you physically couldn’t spend a minute in the shadows of the night without feeling panicky, so your parents had taken to instilling a nightlight in your room in hopes that that would help your fears.

And it was in high school that you started to see the faces - swarthy, sinister-looking things that were neither human nor fantastical. Just… unsettling in the highest of forms. They made it so that you were afraid to close your eyes late at night, for you knew what'd you see just behind your vision.

Finally, by the time you started university, the cumulation of all of your childhood fears morphed into that of what the doctors called ‘night paranoia.’

Being diagnosed with such a thing as a young adult was both relieving and terrifying. On one hand, it felt good to finally put a name to the thing that you had been dealing with since you were a little child. But then on the other hand, it was scary to understand all that night paranoia entailed, and realize that your symptoms would probably follow you for the rest of your life.

But mostly, it was just depressing.

To know that there wasn’t much you could do about it.

Wasn’t much you could do to combat all of the sick, scary feelings at night.

You chose not to tell many people about the diagnosis, so no one - except your closest family members - knew about it.

You didn’t want anyone worrying when it wasn’t that big of a deal.

You just made sure that you were never out around the time when you would get sleepy, and that you never stayed the night over at a friend's house.

But then, one day, you met a boy named Lee Felix in your Humanities class at university. He was a year older than you and majoring in Dance Theory, but was taking the Humanities class as an elective. The two of you hit it off instantly, and within no time at all, spent most of your time together.

Things started to turn murky though- when Felix wanted to spend the night over at your place one day. To him, you were acting weird about the whole thing and blowing it way out of portion. But to you- you just wanted to avoid it all, and for him to leave so that you could face the long night alone. By yourself. With no one around to witness everything that you experienced deep in the twilight dream space.

That night ended in a huge argument between the two of you, but eventually, you made up and went back to your old way of things. With you never sleeping in front of him.

So imagine your surprise, when the two of you came back to his place one night and you practically blacked out from all of the alcohol that you had consumed at the club earlier that evening.

In no time at all, the paranoia started. First, it was the racing of your heart, and then when you closed your eyes, the visions skated across your eyesight. You quickly sat up from the living room sofa, frantically beginning your nightly search around the room - the one you always did to try and dissuade your fears.

That’s when Felix walked into the living room, fresh from a shower, and saw you hesitating to open the nearby linen-closet door.

‘Y/N… what’s wrong?’ He had asked in a quiet voice, but you weren’t paying attention to him at that moment.

You were squared off with the wooden door, your heart pounding in your ears as you psyched yourself up to grab the handle and yank it open. Really, it didn’t have to be that difficult. You had the same routine every night, check every single door to make sure nothing - or no one - was lurking behind it. But even still, you always froze up with fear just before you continued with your plan.

Just as you finally managed to muster up the courage and twist on the door handle, you felt a gentle hand land atop one of your shoulders. Fingers squeezed your skin, and the room dived into silence as you held your breath. You didn’t like people touching you when you were in such a state. But oddly enough, for once, you didn’t flinch away from the human contact. If anything, it helped to soothe some of your paranoia.

‘Y/N, angel, what’re you doing?’ It was Felix who was talking. Felix who had a hold on your shoulder. Felix who was gradually bringing you back down to earth, unbeknownst to him.

And all at once, you broke down into tiny, muted sobs. They racked through your entire body, your shoulders shaking with them, your chest constricting with the pain, anxiety rushing through your veins like hot, molten lava. ‘I can’t do it, Lix… I-I just c-can’t.’

Felix was turning you around then, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to his chest. You buried your face in his shirt, tears staining the thin cotton fabric. At that moment, you felt incredibly ashamed of yourself. You didn’t like the idea of other people knowing your struggles; you had taken much pride in hiding such a weak side of yourself from the people around you for a long time. The shame around the paranoia was thick and confusing and left you in a puddle of tears most nights when you were alone, laying perfectly still in your bed.

You melted into your best friend’s grasp, fingers clutching at the loose sweatpants positioned around his hips. He held you close to him, running his nimble digits through your hair, trying to calm you down by muttering words of assurance in your ear.

‘Shh, it’s okay…’ Felix whispered, only making you cry harder into his chest. The scent of him - of warm, sweet chocolate chip cookies and chai-spiced tea - filled up your entire body with a comforting kind of feeling, helping to slow down your racing heart somewhat. ‘It’s gonna be alright… I’ve got you, baby.’

That immediately stopped the tears from cascading down your cheeks. And all at once, you were yanking your form away from his warmth, staring up at him with bleary eyes and flushed cheeks.

He had never called you that before.

Angel, sure.

But baby?

No.

‘W-What-’ You began, completely at a loss for words as your eyes skated across his face - passing over his messy, dripping black locks, the star-like freckles on his cheeks, and stopping at his perfect, pink, rosebud-like lips.

‘Now, will you let me help and take care of you?’ He questioned, leaning into you slowly, catching your gaze once more. His pupils were dark and filled with so much adoration and concern. And it was all for you. ‘Will you let me love you? Like I’ve always wanted to?”

You swallowed around the ball of anxiety forming in your throat. Because seriously, you must’ve been living in a dream. Lee Felix, asking you if you’d allow him to love you? One of the most popular guys in the entire university, wanting to be yours? Your best friend, seemingly confessing his feelings for you in the most inopportune moment?

It was all so backward and confusing. Nonetheless, you found yourself nodding rather hastily. Like his offer would be off the table if you didn't accept right that instant, ‘Yes… yes, a thousand times yes.’

Then, you had no time to react - as the prettiest boy on campus, as your best friend - gently yanked you close to him and captured your lips up into a yearning, full kiss. Your mouths slotted together perfectly, like the two of you were made to be kissing one another.

After a few beats of silence and feeling nothing but his lips against yours - tasting nothing but his sweet scent on your tongue, the two of you pulled away to catch your breaths.

‘You wanna tell me about what’s going on with you?’ He asked, reaching up and tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

And surprisingly, you did. You felt ready to tell someone else - especially your newly-minted boyfriend.

It just felt… right.

‘Yeah- yes, I do.’ You said in a faint voice, words coming out a little wobbly as you looked up into Felix’s eyes and noticed how they were shining with a newfound light of happiness.

A benevolent smile spread across his perfect lips just then, ‘Good, I was hoping you’d say that.’ He gave one of your cheeks a peck, before leading you over to the couch to talk about everything.

And the rest… was history.

Ever since that night in Felix’s apartment, you had been extremely open with him about your night paranoia. So, when the two of you eventually moved into your shared place after having graduated from university, it was a regular occurrence for him to help you through such dreadful experiences.

Over time, you had learned how to manage your emotions and fears. And most nights, they weren’t that bad. You just made sure you didn’t watch anything frightening or thrilling before bed, and a lot of the time, the faces wouldn’t appear. Some nights, you didn’t feel the need to check every room and look under every possible hiding surface.

But then on other nights, you had to go through all of the motions.

Check every nook and cranny in your one-bedroom apartment,

See the visions in your mind whenever you closed your eyes,

And every time you were home alone at night, you had the foreboding feeling that someone - or something - was watching you from the shadows.

That only heightened your paranoia even more, and each time those dark thoughts entered your mind, you’d cling to your boyfriend Felix when he’d arrive home from work. He was a choreographer for a popular entertainment agency in the city, so most nights, he’d come home fairly late. Sometimes, you’d fall asleep before he arrived. But then when things were really bad, you couldn’t drift off even when he had long arrived home.

You noticed how stress greatly brought on the worst of the paranoia. Usually, it originated from your work. Whenever you’d have a short deadline to meet, or a project to finish under a small timeframe, the night terrors heightened greatly.

And that Sunday was one of those nights.

All day, you had been running around doing errands. Getting groceries for the week ahead, tidying up the apartment, taking your and Felix’s tabby cat Pixie to the groomers.

Even still, the anxiety never left you.

You had a big presentation at work that next Monday, one that you had been preparing for all week.

The stress of it all only worsened as you arrived home for the day to an empty apartment. Felix wouldn’t be home until late that night - which was the usual on the weekend.

You went about the motions of cooking yourself dinner, feeding Pixie, and taking your nightly shower. All in the hopes of calming yourself down. You even tried watching your favorite reality tv show, but quickly lost interest in it when your mind wandered to work for the upcoming week.

So once the clock struck eleven at night, you deemed it late enough to turn off the lights. Settling back into bed, tucking yourself under the thick covers, you tried to make yourself comfortable and relax your mind.

But then, the bedroom that was plunged into darkness seemed to come alive right before your eyes- the shadows moving and shifting in the corners, the low hum of the central heating seeming to grow louder with each passing moment.

Feeling the anxiety rise ever so slowly inside of your body, you tried to dissuade your murky thoughts by turning to your side and letting your mind wander over what you’d like to do with your boyfriend in the upcoming week. You both had a day off that Wednesday, and you were planning of hiking to a nearby mountain for your date.

Your musings were interrupted by what looked like a ripple of movement out of the corner of your eye.

Body freezing up completely,

You sat there in utter silence,

Holding your breath,

Heart racing a mile a minute,

As you waited, and watched.

It must’ve been someone.

That movement- it was that of a person.

You had seen the figure of a human just as the thing flashed across your vision.

You should’ve checked all of the rooms in the apartment- even though it killed you to do it, you should’ve. Maybe, if you had, you wouldn’t be feeling so paranoid at that moment.

Breaths coming out in shallow increments, you lay there for what felt like an eternity, having a silent stare-off contest with the unknown being hiding in the shady corner of the room.

It wanted you to turn your back on it,

Wanted you to close your eyes and think you were safe.

But not on your watch-

You weren’t about to let yourself succumb to sleep and-

Just then, you heard the familiar jingle of the front doors keypad ring out across the apartment, momentarily breaking through your frenzy of thoughts. Then, shoes scuffed against the tiled floor, and a heavy bag landed on the ground.

Felix was finally home.

But then, the shadow in the depths of the room seemed to ripple with movement, bringing your mind back to the threat at hand, seemingly forgetting all about the arrival of your boyfriend.

You waited, with bated breath, eyes locked on the corner that was closest to your shared walk-in closet. You kept your focus on the shadowy creature, even when the creak of the bedroom door sounded in your ears.

Saying nothing, you merely continued to lay completely still atop the bed, nestled into the sheets, watching in silence for where the being had gone.

It must’ve slipped into the closet just as Felix entered the room. It was probably waiting for the most opportune moment and then-

“Angel?” Felix’s soft tone broke through the slurry of panic that had taken over your brain. You heard feet quietly hitting the carpeted floor, and then your boyfriend was right before your eyes, crouching down low so that he was at eye level with you. “You alright?”

His gaze raked over your stiff form - he always knew the signs when you were awake, when you were dealing with a particularly bad spell of paranoia. Your entire body would get all tensed up, breathing turning shallow, and you couldn’t focus on anything else until your mind was eased of the panicky thoughts.

“T-There’s someone in the closet, over there,” you said in a low whisper, pointing to the door that you had seen the shadow slip through.

Felix didn’t even flinch at your confession. He just tilted into you, placing a soft kiss atop the crown of your head. “Okay,” he signed against your hair, breath warming a chilly part inside of you. “I’ll go take a look, hmm?”

You watched in silence, as he strode over to the walk-in closet. One part of you wanted to see what was just behind the door. While the other part of you wanted to squeeze your eyes tightly shut in fear of what you would find there.

Heart pounding uncomfortably against your ribcage, you waited in tense silence as your boyfriend carefully opened the door to the closet. Your palms grew sweaty as you clutched onto the bedsheets around you, and for a few seconds, you stopped breathing altogether. As Felix leaned in to turn the light on, throwing the small room into an amiable pool of light.

But there was nothing there.

“See, baby? It’s safe. Nothing to worry about…” Felix began, already moving to turn off the closet light.

You were shooting out of bed in a flash of limbs and blankets. Frantically, you stumbled into the closet, kneeling on the ground and beginning to check every dark corner that lay behind the curtained clothes.

Because no,

No- you had seen something.

Something dark and ominous had loomed in the shadow near the closet,

It must’ve been hiding somewhere in here and it would-

Your hands tore at the clothes, searching, and searching, and searching.

When finally, you felt two familiar arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against a toned chest.

“Baby,” Felix said in a deep voice, the sound of it cascading across the shell of your ears and reaching down into you, touching a warm place in your soul. “It’s alright, darling, nothing’s in here.”

“But Lix, I saw-” You whined desperately, hands trying - and failing - to grab ahold of a pile of clothes on the floor and push them away so that you could look behind them.

Felix was turning you around, ripping your focus off of the garments and the shadowy figure and forcing you to hone in on his face. On the way that his eyes were soft with concern, the way his jaw clenched and unclenched in the uneasy moment. The way his midnight-black hair swept across his forehead messily. “You have to trust me, yeah?” He began, reaching towards you and brushing away a loose strand of your hair that had fallen in front of your eyes. “You know that I’d never let anyone hurt you, right?”

Already, you could feel the paranoia slowly leaking out of you. Like a hole poked into a balloon full of water, the anxiety began to trickle out of your system through the tears that suddenly cascaded down either of your cheeks. “Y-Yeah, I know…”

“That I’d never let anyone step even one foot into this apartment without my knowing?”

Your gaze was locked on his loose-fitting black hoodie, which you were clutching in either palm. The two of you sat on the carpeted floor in the walk-in closet, with your breaths beginning to come out slower than before. “I know, Lix.” You suddenly whined out, feeling the way your muscles began to relax at his words.

His presence alone always helped to console you.

But the things he said to you?

The promises he made?

That he’d always keep you safe, no matter what?

Well, those words always sent you down a spiral of softness and love.

A delicate finger fit underneath your chin then, as your boyfriend gradually tilted your head up until your gazes met.

“Okay, good. I just wanna be sure…” His voice trailed off, as his mouth neared yours, and he placed a tentative kiss against your lips. “Now, are you ready to sleep?”

A beat of silence passed between the two of you, as you contemplated his words. You knew that the worst of it had already passed. The hallucinations were always the height of your paranoia. And even though there was a good chance that the anxiety wouldn’t completely leave you that night, you found yourself nodding anyways.

Felix was hoisting you up in the next breath, carrying you bridal-style over to the bed with a fit of giggles erupting out of you at his sudden actions.

He bent over your form, carefully tucking you underneath the thick duvet coverlet, smoothing down some of your hair atop the crown of your head. He stared down at you, a fond smile broadening his mouth on either side.

“I’ll always be here, angel.” He whispered, kissing you sweetly for what felt like the millionth time that night. “I love you so much… just wanna protect you.”

As soon as he pulled away from your mouth, you felt the exhaustion wash over you like a vicious tidal wave. Dealing with such a bad case of paranoia always left you feeling wiped out as soon as it was over with.

A lazy smile cracked on your face, as you stared up at him with the hint of pink gradually creeping up into your cheeks. “I love you too, babe.” You reached out to him, grabbing his free hand that wasn’t playing with your hair and squeezing his fingers slightly.

“Sleep now, darling… I've got you…” Your boyfriend continued to card his digits through your locks, effortlessly lulling you to a dream-like state.

And the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes - before the darkness took over the whole of your body - was the tiny, delicate smile that bloomed across Felix’s face; as he watched you in silence, guiding you into dreamland with gentle hands and sweet words.

Fin.

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sublimecatgalaxy · 2 years ago

Note

bestie i’m literally so obsessed with this javi fic!! i’m not sure if you’d be willing to do a part two, but if you’re up for it, i think it’d be so cute to see javi and the reader reunite after being apart for some time💕maybe he’s so excited to show her around columbia or they just stay in and catch each other up on what the other had missed? totally up to you!

Part 1

I love this bestie!! I love and adore you, you're the best.

"Hi." I grin as Javier opens the door breathlessly, a bright smile slipping across his face as his eyes trail over me, almost as if he doesn't believe that I'm here. His hand is firmly on the doorknob as if he'd fall over if he let it go and I laugh, giving him a simple wave.

"Well are you going to hug me or not?" I ask but before I can get the sentence out, Javier's wrapping his arms around my waist, tugging me into his arms with a loud laugh, face burying in the crook of my neck.

"I missed you so much, cariña." He whispers and I can feel drops of tears on my shoulders as my fingers weave through his unruly hair.

"I missed you more, Javi. Sucks being a house wife without a husband." I laugh and he hums, fingers gripping onto my hips that I'm sure will leave bruises but it just reminds me that I'm here, with him, my husband who's loved and missed me more than words can say.

"I can imagine." He pulls away from me, reaching up to cup my cheeks so he can kiss me properly, my whole body melting against his as I enjoy the feeling of his body pressed against mine. "C'mon before Steve sees you. He'll ask you too many questions." He whispers, nodding to the apartment across the ball before tugging me into his apartment. "His wife Connie will ask you even more."

Javier watches me closely as I take my shoes off and strip myself of my coat, handing him my bags while I look around his apartment. It's very him, very plain and simple, bottles of liquor set out on the countertop.

"I'm so happy to be here with you." I turn to wrap my arms firmly around his neck, pressing my body against his as he sways me back and forth. I can feel the smile on his lips, cheeks hurting I'm sure by now from all the grins I've caused.

"Took you long enough." He chuckles, pulling me down onto the couch and right onto his lap as I tuck myself into him. "Six months is too long."

"What if I moved here?" I ask suddenly, leaning back away from him, watching the way his eyes widen in real time, jaw slacking in shock as his hands grip my hips.

"Move in with me? Here in Columbia?" I can tell his mouth is drying from how often he's swallowing and I can see the red rimming his waterline, tears already filling his eyes.

"I already spoke to my landlord and my mom." I offer vaguely, hands rubbing up and down his chest. "I want to feel like a wife." I whine, slipping down onto him so I can curl myself into the curve of his body, just happy to be so close to him after so long. "I don't feel like a wife hundreds of miles away." Javi nods, reaching up to cup my cheeks in his hands, a smile slipping across his lips. "I want to wake up to you, make you lunch, be here when you get home."

"Spend my money-"

"Spend your big boy money." I giggle, wrapping my arms around him.

"I worry about your safety, sweetheart." He whispers against my hairline and I nod, knowing that he worries that I'd get involved in the dangers of his career.

"No where is safer than by your side." I whisper, tilting my chin so I can look up at him and he nods slowly, thumb brushing soothingly across my cheek.

"Then let's get the ball moving then."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

@officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @witxhy-lexx @minjix @luvroseee @tee-swizzle @savageneversaw @admiringlove @hysteriahall @piceous21 @starlightandfairies @igotmajordaddyissues @drewstarkey-wife1 @manyfandomsfanvergent @revesephemeres @rafesbae01

#javier #javier pena #javier x reader #javier pena x reader #narcos #narcos fic

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motthe · 4 years ago

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okok i know your requests are closed so feel free to push this aside, BUT i have a request for viktor that i thought was cute

ok so the reader is besties with Mel and they end up overhearing Mel and Jayce discussing Viktor research, and they offer to assist them cause why not? so they meet Viktor, they start working, and the readers like “this Russian guy? super hot, i will now try seducing him” and they take to flirting and buying little gifts, maybe even talking about how pretty his eyes or hair is, but Viktor takes it as them poking fun at him. so time goes on and the reader keeps at it until one day viktor snaps (full on in their face, maybe standing up as straight as possible to tower over them 😳), but instead of upsetting the reader, they just find it really hot and say something like “could you get any hotter” which would definitely convince viktor that “yo this person is actually into me, like really into me😳”

it’s a very long request, and i did speed run through the idea, but if you do decide to write it, feel free to interpret it however you see fit, and make it as long as your heart desires💕

Jayce is taking a break, sipping his cold coffee by the windows of the lab. He is in the middle of making a grimace when he spots you outside, taking the academy steps two at a time with a box in your hands and a smile on your face. Eyes narrowing, he turns his head with a slowness that catches Viktor's attention from his desk across the room.

All it takes is that slim-lipped grin and Viktor is letting his face fall into his hands with a groan.

"Lock the door, please," he breathes, rubbing the corners of his eyes. "It's too early for this."

"You have to love their persistence," Jayce chuckles, starting for the door with the goal of reheating his coffee and not locking the door. Viktor just sinks lower into his seat. "C'mon, if you didn't like it you would have tossed 'em to the curb weeks ago."

"No, I would not." He rolls his eyes as his lab partner raises a brow, hand on the knob and waiting. "They are a friend of Councilor Medarda. Treating them rudely wouldn't end well in my favor."

"I say give 'em a chance and see how it goes. Maybe they'll grow on you."

"You and I both know this is a poor attempt at a joke."

"What joke would go on this long? C'mon, Viktor, you're a catch and you know it."

"I won't dignify that with a response," he huffs, leaning back towards his desk to return to his notes. He knew it was meaningless with you on the way. "Bring me back a cup if you please."

"Sure, sure," Jayce sings, waving as he opens the door. When he faces the hall he smiles at the sight of you, hand raised to knock and that little package held close to your chest for protection. "Well, isn't this a surprise?"

"Morning, Jayce," you greet, beaming. He still can't figure why Viktor won't be sweet on you, with your affectionate personality and kind face. Sure, you're hounding him with this crush of yours, but at least you're making it clear where your intentions lie. "Is Viktor in?"

You peer around him into the room, eyes glinting as you spot a familiar form hunched over his desk.

"He is, indeed," Jayce assured, moving to the side to allow you entry. "Keep him company for me while I fetch some coffee?"

"Of course!" you chirp with all the energy of a bullet.

Jayce salutes to Viktor as he leaves, the brunet catching his silent words as the door closes behind him.

Be nice.

Viktor fights not to roll his eyes, scowling down at his notebook as your footsteps click closer.

"Good morning, Vik! You're looking as handsome as always."

Heat works its way up his neck (as it usually does where your compliments are concerned). He glances to his left as a cardboard box is set down, the smell of something sweet tickling his nose. He feels his stomach rumble, but he refuses to keep playing this game with you.

"I'm not hungry," he says, flipping to another page in his notes. Focus, he needs to focus.

"You can save it for a snack! It's those little pumpkin rolls, and don't try to say you don't them! I know you do."

"What makes you say that?"

"Little bird told me. I got extra cream cheese spread, too." His stomach grumbles again as he silently curses Jayce. "What're you working on today, sir genius?"

"The usual."

"Those Hexcore transmitters? Or are you still amping the blueprints for the gloves again?"

He blinks, head only turning a bit as the shock settles. He knew you were here to constantly tease him, but he never thought you actually listened when he would (very rarely) go into what he and Jayce were working on that week.

"Uh, yes," he murmurs, moving to stand. He looks for his cane before you're leaning behind him, grabbing the apparatus and handing it to him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He squints at your smile, glancing down at the pastry box before returning his gaze to your eyes.

"Why do you keep on with this?"

You blink at him, head tilting. "With what, handsome?"

Ah, there goes that heatstroke again.

"Would you quit with the incessant teasing?" he hisses, something popping in the far corner of his mind. "I don't know what you expect to get out of this, but I want no part in it!"

The silence that fills the pause after his exclamation has him catching his breath. You stare at him almost blankly and it's a terrifying realization to think he might have upset you. He is prepared for you to leave, perhaps yell back, or confiscate those delicious pumpkin rolls.

Instead, you just sigh, crossing your arms as you stare at something on his desk.

"You're even hot when you're angry--it's not fair."

"I--what?" he chokes out. "You aren't upset with me for raising my voice?"

"Viktor you can yell at me all you want," you laugh, "but until you tell point blank you hate my guts and never want to see me again, I'm gonna be here to give you snacks and praises. You deserve to be loved on, you know?"

His face must be red by now. There is no way in all of Runeterra it isn't.

"So you...aren't doing the joking? With all the endearments?"

"Of course not! I like you bunches, Viktor! You're handsome and I am insanely attracted to you, so accept my gifts and finally go out on a date with me."

You clear your throat, swinging your arms at your sides as you look away. It's the first time he has ever seen you flustered.

"Please?"

Sighing, he rubs at the back of his neck. This whole time he thought you just enjoyed teasing him, but you were as genuine as your gifts were.

"Are you free tonight?" he mumbles.

A gasp has the both of you jumping, heads turning to find Jayce halfway through the door with two steaming cups of coffee.

"Did you finally crack him?!" he shrieks, smiling wide as you giggle and nod. "Way to go! I knew you could do it!"

"Give me my coffee," Viktor growls, turning to head for the chalkboard and continue his work from the night prior. Feeling a tug at his sleeve, he turns to find you smiling up at him.

"I'm free," you say.

#viktor x reader #viktor x you #arcane x reader #league of legends x reader #viktor x nb!reader #viktor x gn!reader #arcane content #masterlist

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e-dubbc11 · 3 years ago

Note

happy saturday lovely ericca! sorry that your thor plans fell through but i'm happy that it means we get to spend more time together! ❤️

for the asks, can you tell me your favourite headcanons 🥰 or thots 🥵 for our gorgeous mr russo?

My lovely lovely Mindi!

I am so happy you asked for these and they were such fun to come up with, I hope you like them and maybe I’ll even make a part 2. 💕😘 And you asking for these really made my day. ❤️❤️❤️

Headcanons for Billy Russo

Now, these are for MY Billy Russo because I believe him to be sweet, loving and doting but not completely without flaws because he does have flaws and issues but he’s constantly working on that…for you.

I do mention some of these in my fic Say It Again. We’ll start out with those…

He spoils you rotten - gifts, jewelry, flowers

Brings you take out after a long day at work along with a bouquet of flowers

Makes you nighttime tea

Takes very good care of you when you don’t feel well

Covers you with a blanket when you fall asleep on the couch

Brings you coffee at your office every morning

Surprises you at work sometimes with lunch, flowers or both

Sets the table for dinner even if it’s just Chinese food

He loves taking you to VERY nice places for dinner dates but also loves hole in the wall bars/restaurants for more casual dates

Always has to touch you in some way - public, private, it doesn’t matter, the man always has his hands on you

Secretly loves when you play with his hair and/or stroke his beard with your thumbs

I believe Billy (like Ben Barnes) has a lovely singing voice so karaoke is a blast with him and sometimes you catch him singing at home when he thinks you aren’t paying attention or when he’s in the shower.

He knows you LOVE when he reads to you and absolutely LOVES when you read to him

He’s all about forehead kisses and top of the head kisses

Cherishes every single time you fall asleep on his chest

Loves to touch your face when he kisses you

Ok now it’s time for flirty/smexy Billy…

The man constantly flirts with you - he loves cheesy pick up lines to be funny and cute. He will go to lengths to get you to roll your eyes at him.

“Baby, feel my shirt. Know what it’s made out of? Boyfriend material.”

“If you were a fruit, you’d be a fine-apple.”

“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?”

You try your hardest not to laugh but you can’t help yourself and neither can he.

He likes being in control in the bedroom

Loves hearing you during sex - and tells you to be vocal “I wanna hear you, Princess.”

Loves to whisper smexy things in your ear at inappropriate times to tease you - like dinner dates with his potential clients

Although he loves to be in control, he likes when you’re on top - he loves to look up at your face when you fall apart all over his cock

Always wants to know what you like or don’t like in bed because he aims to please

Well groomed - everywhere (wink wink 😉)

Loves to watch you suck his soul out of his dick and praise you while you do it

Calling him “Mr. Russo” makes him absolutely feral

It makes him hard to see your jealous reaction to women flirting with him

Billy is not without flaws

Hates when you don’t call or text back right away

Can be possessive and jealous - Hates when other men look at you or try to talk to you

Has a hard time expressing himself through words, difficulty opening up at first

We all know Billy was a marine so he can defend himself and defend you but also always wants to show you how to defend yourself.

Play wrestling always turns into him showing you moves to protect yourself

He doesn’t go easy on you either which is a little scary but hot at the same time

VERY protective of you

Sleeping next to him

Loves to watch you sleep and holds you VERY close while you sleep

Always wants you to wake him up if you have to get out of bed for any reason

It worries him if he ever wakes up and you’re not next to him

He has nightmares sometimes (I have a fic about this)

And fights…

Fights with Billy can be intense

But he’s always VERY sorry afterwards

And really really hates when you’re mad at him

I hope you enjoy my Billy Russo headcanons, and like I said, maybe I’ll even make a part 2 because I just love him so much!

#billy russo headcanons #billy russo #the punisher #he’s so smexy #ben barnes

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goddessofmischief · 4 years ago

Note

Rick flag x reader/punchline where the team are walking through the forest and she splits up a little bit from the rest of the team because she gets distracted by something pretty or cute and falls into a river but she's never learnt how to swim, including blackguard in a way aswell please?💕💕

River - Rick Flag x Reader

A/N: I added some hints in this fic as to what might be up next for the series, let me know if you spot any! I set this in my Rick Flag series, which you can read here. All my fics in the series are one-shots, but feel free to read the whole series for maximum enjoyment. Requests are open!

...

It’s a nice day out.

You and Rick, plus Blackguard and Harley (your favorite group) were patrolling what looked like a fairytale forest, though you were all too aware of the dangers within. Harley was having the time of her life, skipping through the moss, and even Rick seemed less dour than usual.

...In the background, though, a sparkling river began to catch your eye - and you hummed, glancing around at the group.

“I’m... gonna check something out.”

“Want me to come with you?” asked Blackguard, and you shook your head, trying not to grin.

“I’m flying this one solo, Hertz.”

He looped his fingers through yours, and you held on, just for a moment, until you noticed Rick eyeing you.

You cleared your throat, starting off for the river. You didn’t really need to check anything out. This time, your mission was a selfish one.

...To tell the truth, it'd been a long, long time since you'd glimpsed your reflection.

At the ballet academy you'd grown up in, it had been all about reflections - how you looked, how much you weighed. Things were so different now.

Still, it was a comfort to see that you had not changed, even if everything else did - you still looked the same.

Looking too closely, though-

You tumbled in.

I can’t swim, you thought desperately, I can’t swim, I can’t swim-

You tried to scream, but all that came up were little bubbles.

You were going to die, you thought, in the dumbest way possible.

...

"...Hey, has anyone seen Y/N?” Rick asked.

Blackguard shrugged, confusion knitting his eyebrows together.

“She was with us when we landed, for sure-”

“She went to check something out,” Rick finished, the pieces falling into place. “Hertz, when did we last see her?”

“By the river, I think-”

Both men glanced at each other in mutual panic.

“You don’t think-” Rick started, grimly.

“No, man, she can swim-”

“She can what?” Harley asked, springing up behind them.

“Punch can swim, right?”

"No, she can’t!” exclaimed Harley. “Neither of us can- almost died that way, I swear-”

Instantly, Rick began sprinting in the direction he’d last seen you, Hertz struggling to catch up to him.

“Look, I’m sure she’s not-”

“What if she is?”

Rick arrived at the river, eyes searching for you - nothing. Just a quiet river...

And your body at the bottom of it.

Without hesitation, Rick dove to the bottom of the river, lifting your body up and carrying you to the banks. Blackguard watched, horrified.

“No... come on, no...”

“Be alive,” Rick chanted, beginning to do CPR on you. “Come on, don’t die on me, come on, come on-”

Miraculously, you wake - and Rick cries. He’s not ashamed. He cries, and Blackguard slumps beside him, and they’re both too emotional to care about anything else.

“You’re not dead,” says Rick, speaking the obvious truth. “...Why aren’t you dead?”

You and Blackguard look at him in confusion, and he shrugs.

“I’m sorry, does anyone else find it a little weird that you’re just... fine? How long were you underwater?”

“I don't know, Rick... seven minutes, maybe?”

“That’s pretty weird.”

You sigh, and Rick realizes he’s ruined the moment, as well as any chance he had with you.

“Sorry,” he said, awkwardly. “Well, uh... let’s go back.”

...

Rick Flag Taglist (Open)

@blondiekook @giggles75th @woodlandmouth @xoxabs88xox @yinrose98

#rick flag x reader #rick flag #rick flag imagine #blackguard #richard hertz #dc #the suicide squad #suicide squad #suicide squad imagine

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pascalisthepunkest · 5 years ago

Text

Din Djarin | Headcanons and Prompts

✨ this masterlist is a compilation of wonderful writers* that have blessed us with their amazing works ✨

Warnings/mentions: Alcohol 🥃 Drugs 💊 Violence 🔪

Keys: Angst 😢 Fluff 💕 Smut 🔥 Smuttish 🍑 Keyless 🔑

Admitting they love you in an angsty situation 😢💕

Age Gap 💕

Bean, the Child 💕

Being caught by the Baby 🍑

Being with The Mandalorian 💕

Best friends with Mando 💕

Bounty 😢💕🔪

Breeding kink 🔥

Breeding kink and pregnancy 💕

Clumsy reader 💕

Coming out 💕

“Coming to the party” early 🔥

Cuddles ft. Grogu 💕

Cuddly 🥃💕

Dad Din 💕

Dad Din during labor 💕

Dancing in the Dark 💕

Din as a Disney song 🔑

Din falling in love with you 💕

Din fucks hard after your period 🍑

Din has a big dick and doesn’t know it 🔥

Din having nightmares 😢💕

Din with an s/o who’s inexperienced 💕

Din yells and you cry 😢💕

Din’s cuddles 💕

Din’s cute drunk 🥃💕

Din’s grooming routine 💕

Din’s lactation kink 🔥

Din’s relationship with his covert’s foundlings 💕

Domestic mornings 💕

Dominant s/o 🔥

Drunk 🥃💕

Farewell/Goodbye 😢💕

Finding out your boyfriend is mistreating you 😢💕

Fluff Alphabet 💕

Ghost 🔪💕

Helping Din through his nightmares 💕

Holiday 💕

Hotsprings 🔥

How he reacts to the reader being pregnant 💕

Kissing the helmet 💕

Living with The Mandalorian 💕

Mandalorian squared 💕

Mando and his ex run into each other 🔑

Mando having an apprentice 🔑 02🔑

Mando when the power/heat goes out 💕

Morning + what he likes about you 💕

Mother-hen Mando 💕

Mutual Pining + Naptime 💕

Needing someone to help him take care of The Child 🔑

NSFW Alphabet 🔥

Pregnancy 💕

Protective Din 💕

Reader’s first time with Din 💕🔥

Soft sex 💕🍑

Sunset 💕

Swaddle 💕

Telling Din about pregnancy 💕

The child is a picky eater 💕

The five times you catch him staring; the one time you do something about it 🔑 02🔑

The Ghost 🔪😢💕

The Mandalorian being protective 💕

The Mandalorian with a pregnant s/o 💕

Uncertain 💕

Undressing 💕

You were Moff Gideon’s apprentice and now you are helping Mando 🔑

A: (Y/N)? B: Yeah? A: I’m gonna kiss you now. B: Okay. 💕

A: Are you trying to seduce me? B: Depends. Are you seducible? 💕

A: Could you give me a hand? B: I could, but will I? 🔑

A: Just tell me why you did it! B: Because I’m in love with you, okay! | You saved my life. | Taking care of the other when sick or injured. 😢💕

A: Promise me one thing: that you will stay by my side no matter what is thrown our way. B: I promise I will protect you from every threat, every danger, and from everyone that wishes to harm you. 💕

A: Tell me something I don’t know. B: Your eye twitches when you get annoyed. A: Only because it’s you that annoys me. | A: Where are you taking me? B: You need to relax more. You need to see the world around you, and find some sort of peace within yourself… even if it is just for a little while. 💕

A: You never cared about me before, so why start caring now? B: …because I love you. 💕

A: You should talk to her. B: And have her hear me? No thank you. 💕

A Soft Place to Land by Delta Rae. 💕

A Song for You by Donny Hathaway. 💕

Adore You by Harry Styles. 💕

Always There by Greta Van Fleet. 💕

Are you... blushing? 💕

Are you asleep? 💕

Be My Baby by Ariana Grande. 💕

Catching you masturbating. 🔥

Close your eyes and hold out your hands. 💕

Close your eyes and keep them closed. 🍑

Did you do something new with your hair? 💕

Did you hit your head? 💕

Din with a soft, sensitive s/o. 💕

Do you not trust me? 😢

Don’t leave me. | Go back to bed. 💕

Don’t move. | Stay close to me. 💕

Don’t move, you’re bleeding. 💕

Exhausted parents kiss. 💕

Getting stoned with Din. 💊💕

Having to patch up the person you’ve been pining after for months. 💕

He stares at you every time you look away. | They told me you died. And I screamed. I screamed until my lungs hurt too much to continue. 💕

Honesty by Halsey. 💕

Honeymoon by Lana Del Rey. 💕

I almost lost you. 😢💕

I came to say goodbye. 💕😢

I haven’t slept in four days… 💕

I Just Wanna Make Love To You by Etta James. 💕

I lost the baby. 🔑

I love you, okay? I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it. | The only person I need right now is you. 💕

I need you. 😢

I swear to God if you get blood on me… 💕

I think you’re beautiful. 💕

I’d hurt anyone who ever left a scar on you. 💕

I’d kill for a coffee right now. | Are we on a date right now? 💕

I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand. 😢💕

If I could go back in time, I’d still choose you. | I love you, okay? I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it. 😢

If you don’t let her go right now, I swear I will break every bone in your body 💕

Is this okay? 💕

It isn't what it looks like! Okay... Maybe it is... 💕

It’s cold, you should take this. 💕

Levitating by Dua Lipa. 💕

Look, I know you’re a hardass, but can you play with my hair? It would really help. 💕

Okay, but consider this: I don’t care. 🔪

Please tell me you feel this too? 💕

Rose. 💕

Shh. Come here. It’s just a nightmare. 💕

Shouldn’t you be with her? | You’re always on my mind. 😢💕

Shy kiss. 💕

Soft, cuddly Din after you’ve had a bad week. 😢💕

Stay here and don’t move. I’ll be right back. 💕

Take one more step and I snap her pretty little neck. | You take me instead, do you hear me? Give her back and take me instead. 💕

Tentative kisses given in the dark. 💕

There are people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close. | Overhearing they have feelings for you. 😢💕

There’s only one bed. | Is that a tattoo? 💕🔥

There’s only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling. 💕

“We can never be together” kiss. 😢

We are stranded here together, so we may as well work together to get off this rock alive. | If you don’t let her go right now, I swear I will break every bone in your body. | A: Tell me why I should stay. B: Because I need you…I... I’m not good with this sort of stuff. 😢💕

What the hell happened. | Don’t close your eyes, stay awake! 💕

What the hell were you thinking!? | Kiss me. 💕😢🔥

What the hell were you thinking? You could have been hurt! | I can’t feel my legs. 🔪😢💕

When you come for cuddles, make sure you’re naked. 💕

Why are you looking at me like that? | I’m just speechless, you’re beautiful. 💕

You almost died, you… you stopped breathing. 🔪😢💕

You can’t always do everything on your own. | A: If we are going to work together then will you have at least more than a one-word conversation with me? B: No. | Let. Her. Go. 💕

You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did! | Choose me. 💕😢

You don’t care. Nobody cares. Just leave. 💕😢

You make a good leaning post. 💕

You need to leave. 😢💕

You will regret ever hurting her, that I promise you. | H-Help me…please. | If you don’t let her go right now, I will break every bone in your body. | Let. Her. Go. | If you lay one more hand on her, I swear I will tear you apart. 😢💕

You’re basically a marshmallow. Perfect for cuddling. | I can’t imagine my life without you anymore. 💕

You’re bleeding. | I’m pregnant. 😢💕

Zombie by Bad Wolves. 😢

Din’s Masterlist | The Masterlist

if you don’t reblog this it’s all good, but r e m e m b e r to REBLOG and maybe reply too, ya know? that’s also nice the original posts bc these people are blessing us with their writing for f r e e!!! likes are nice and all but they don’t get writings anywhere really! having a lot of notes is cool and whatnot but actually reblogging something is ✨💕😭🎉💖 so yeah be the real mvp and reblog the author’s works bye!

*if your stuff isn’t here: it’s not you, it’s me! i’m a lazy ass! and also i couldn’t keep up with the amount of works being posted 😅 if you would like to be added pls just message me or fill this form! i know adding absolutely everyone is impossible at this point, but i’d love to add as many people as possible, i mean it 💙

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iprobablyshipit91 · 5 years ago

Text

The Question

Genre: fluff, fluff and more fluff

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 986

Warnings: swearing

Just some cute Fred Weasley to get you through the day 💕

Harry Potter Masterlist

You stirred suddenly in bed, brow furrowing as you tried to clear away the last remnants of sleep enough to work out what it was that had awoken you in the first place. You rubbed your face sleepily, blinking rapidly as your eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room. You suddenly noticed a shuffling noise coming from the kitchen next door. However, before you could investigate further, a glass smashed and you sat bolt up right, fingers fumbling for the wand on your bedside table and heart beating double time.

Before you manage to grasp the wood, a laugh rang out followed by exaggerated shushing and more laughing. A sigh of mixed relief and frustration leaves you as you slumped back down on to the bed. Your boyfriend, Fred Weasley, had obviously returned back from the pub with his twin brother and their best friend Lee Jordon and from the sounds of it, the three of them were absolutely piss drunk.

You curl back up in bed, waiting for Fred to appear. You haven’t had a night away from each other since the war where you almost lost him, a blast nearly snatching away your love in the blink of an eye. From that moment, a fierce protectiveness has built itself in your chest, with you struggling to let him out of your sight for more than an hour or two. You were slowly getting better though and tonight had proven that as it was the first time you had managed to get some sleep without his arms wrapped around you while he had enjoyed a much deserved night out with his friends. Now you knew he was home though, you simply longed for his touch.

Finally, after much messing around you heard Fred tip toe into the bedroom, banging and clattering into things as he went. Through the dark, you could make out him start to strip out of his clothes clumsily, falling into the dresser more than once. You watch in amusement rolling your eyes at his antics, although you can’t help but bite your lip as you catch a glimpse of his toned bare chest and slim hips that his boxers fit snuggly to.

“Hey, are you coming to bed?” You whisper softly, yet he still jumps a mile at the sound of your voice, stumbling backwards and causing you too snigger into your hand quietly. After his breathing calms slightly he tilts his head and squints at you through the darkness.

“Sorry miss, I’m sure you’re lovely and all but I’ve got a girlfriend,” he slurs before giving you a small nod and promptly throwing himself on the floor.

You let out another giggle, unsure whether this is a joke or not, never quite able to tell with Fred. Or his brother for that matter.

“Freddie?” You question lightly. “Are you being serious?”

“Yup.” He says, popping the ‘p’ and then pausing so long you almost think he’s fallen asleep.

“She’s beautiful my Y/N. Best girl in the world.” He adds then stifles a yawn as you smile and blush at his words. You can hear him fidgeting around to get comfortable. “I’m going to ask her to marry me,” he says quietly, trailing off at the end as his breathing changes to soft snores, but you heard every word as though he shouted it. The sentence ringing in your ears.

I’m going to ask her to marry me.

You’re wide awake now, sat up in bed unsure what to say as your mouth opens and closes without words.

“Freddie?” You finally whisper. “Freddie!” but he continues to snore, dead to the world.

You lie back in bed and toss and turn for a little longer. Whether he even remembers this conversation in the morning is up for debate with the state he’s in so you decide to not dwell on it. If he forgets, there’s not much you can do. You know for certain you’re not going to bring it up with him. If he does remember though, or if he even actually asks the question, well, there’s only one answer you can give him.

You smile softly to yourself and finally give up trying to sleep alone. Taking a pillow and blanket with you, you join Fred on the floor and with a gentle tap to his arm, he lifts it instinctively and you rest your head on his chest, fitting snuggly into his side. After a few moments your breathing evens out and you’re sound asleep too.

——————————————————————————

“Eugh, fuck. Why is it so bright in here?” Fred’s muffled voice wakes you up the next morning. You’ve both wriggled around in your sleep leaving Fred spooning you tightly to him, though as he fully wakes up he lets go and rolls onto his back, leaving you missing his warmth. “And why are we on the floor?”

“Because you drank so damn much and you didn’t want to cheat on your girlfriend,” you say sleepily, rolling over as well to seek his body heat and snuggling deeper into his chest.

“That makes... absolutely no sense,” Fred moans, covering his eyes with his hand.

“I know,” you say simply, not bothering with any explanations. “Also, the answer is yes by the way.”

“The answer is yes?” He questions slowly, peaking down at you from between his fingers and you can almost see the cogs turning in his brain, the confusion in his eyes.

“Exactly,” you say happily, knowing this will annoy him no end.

“And dare I ask what the question was?” He finally asks.

“Well, that’s for you to figure out Freddie,” you say seriously, laughing at his groan of frustration and feeling a joy in your heart that only being with the boy you love can bring. Maybe you’ll explain if he actually asks you the question one day, but for now you’re going to enjoy teasing him.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #hp #fluff #harry potter imagine

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 years ago

Text

She paused in her step. Hands clasped behind her, she leaned forward, "Ah. I see."

She ur bff for real

"How could I forget?" Rhaenyra smiled, "You fancy Daemon." Then her face turns sly, "He fancies you too, you know. But of course, I know why you would be reluctant to engage with all of... that."

GIRL HOLLUP THIS CANDLESTICK SO LOUD I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU SAW SEESAW NUFFIN Y U SO LOUDDDDDD 🗣️🗣️🗣️

Daemon Targaryen has been having quite the interesting time as of late.

GIRL 💀😭🖐️BONK 🤠

These thoughts were yours. These secrets, these desires were yours.

Why he kinda [twirls hair]

Truthfully, he has not been completely shy about his admiration for you. His precious dove. His sweetling. You thought nothing of it, knowing full well how he is. The Rogue Prince has been known to possess countless paramours.

We love a pragmatic girlie 😌💅💅😗✌️💕💕💕

It could only be yours. Who else would scroll down that thinly veiled warning on the first page, dedicated to any stranger who might deign to read it?

Ngl it took me 3 reruns to understood what this mean and i HIHIHIHIH SHE SO CUTE TBH SHE PUT A WARNING IN HER JOURNAL SHE LIKE ME WHEN I WAS YOUNGER EXCEPT I WAS SO EMBARRASSED BY MY THOUGHTS AND SO UNTRUSTING I OPTED TO BE VAGUE WITH MY ACCOUNTS KNOWING ID KNOW WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT. Spoiler. I grew up and FORGOT

It be like that. It be you vs you HAHAH

Daemon, of course, believed himself immune to such threats and he hurriedly found a secluded place to sit down and immerse himself in the woman who has managed to take sanctum in his mind.

RAT BEHAVIOR but he like me fr so i kinda forgive him

Then came – “Once more, if you might be a nosy intruder, turn away now, or the very worst fortunes shall fall upon you. I swear this on both the old gods and the new.”

HIHIHIHIHIHI GIGGLING TWIRLING MY HAIR BLUSHING SHE SO CUTTEE SAUR CURE SO CUTIE PIE CUTIE PATOOTIE

Daemon found himself rolling his eyes. Of course, he would give off the worst impression upon the first moment she glanced at him. But then again…

Girl he whipped af

Daemon after being called pretty once (1):

Oh, gods. I pleasured myself to the thought of him.

🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠😭😭😭😭😭🤠🖐️💀💀 NAH IM SAYIN I COULD NEVER WRITE THAT COS WHAT IF SOMEONE DOESSSS READ IT 🤮🤮🤮🤮

“Seven fucking save me.” Daemon finds himself cursing with delight at what he just read. So his sweetling does want him in return. Oh, you cannot even imagine what I will do to you…

“We have grown quite close, him and I. Daemon is… Daemon is aflame. There can be no better word for him. He is fire incarnate, and I am not afraid of getting burned.

I think this got put out of sequence but UGHHHH SLAY MY POETIC QUEEEEN

“Will you remove yourself from my sight willingly, or shall I do it for you?”

🧍 why he kinda [tucks hair behind ear]

If I am to love, I have to be chosen as the only one.

))))): my stomach dropped she like me fr 😔

“Good morrow, sweetling.” He saunters over, permanent smirk on his lips. “That is a lovely thing you have got there,” he says, gesturing to the new journal in your lap.

Girl

“I might,” he leans in, “but I am far too fond of myself to allow something like that to transpire. Besides,” his fingers languidly trace your jawline, “I have read that you are far too fond of me to do such a thing.”

HE JUST

You do not let him finish. You punch him in the shoulder, hard, making him lean away. Your legs seem to have a mind of their own, because you find yourself pacing quickly.

DESERVE

He gently pries the journal from your fist tucked beside you, and you watch as he flits through the pages as if it were his own. He whispers, “Only what you wrote about me.”

“Enough, Daemon, please…” you bite your lip, as his hands drift across your stomach, settling low on your hips, pulling you flush against him.

Daemon swallows, the sight of your darkened, mischievous expression spurring him on.

“Sweetling… let me give you something to write about.”

His lips land on yours. The impact catches you by surprise, making you take a few steps back, and he promptly follows suit. Your bodies move in sync, until your back collides into one of the marble plinths.

OK LITERALLY JUST WANTED TO SAY THANK YOU FOR USING THE WORD PLINTHS NEW WORD UNLOCKED I CANT BELIEVE THAT'S WHAT THAT'S CALLED SLAY THANK YOU LOVE YOU

His tongue pries your mouth open wide, snaking past your teeth in a frenzy. Without breaking the kiss, he takes your hands, and guides them to the back of his neck, so that you might hold him in turn. You do, burying your fingers in his silver tresses.

SLAY THIS WAS SO BEAUTIFULLY WELL WRITTEN SO IN CHARACTER AT ONE POINT I WAS SCARED I MIGHT NOT LIKE IT COS DAEMON WOULD BE TOO MUSHY which is not inherently bad i just dont prefer it BUT SLAY IT WAS STILL SO GOOD AND IN CHARACTER AND tbh it's just my petty ass but i was hoping shed break his nose or smth IDK I LOVE ENDING THINGS IN ANGST

rogue ink

Daemon Targaryen x f!reader

word count: 3.4k ▪︎ masterlist

themes/warnings: fluff, language, very brief mention of smut

The reader is devastated at the loss of her precious journal, worried that it might fall into the wrong hands. And who better else to discover it, but the Rogue Prince himself?

It was a small thing.

A small, leather-bound journal. Filled with accounts of your days and nights, your deepest thoughts, your pains. An unassuming object, sort of tattered from use.

And it had been missing for three days. The gods were not good.

You searched everywhere. Every corner of your chambers, in all the pouches you had especially sewn onto your dresses, practically every inch of the Red Keep which you have called home ever since your family was invited to King Viserys' court.

And yet it was nowhere to be found.

It was immediately noticeable to your inner circle that something was amiss, but you just shrugged it off. One person you did confide in, however, was Princess Rhaenyra herself. The two of you quickly grew close after her former companion, Alicent, was sent off to wed some wealthy, Southern lord.

"So what if it has gone missing? Perhaps you have simply misplaced it? Anyway, we could easily get you a new one, y/n."

Your head swiftly turned in her direction, "I appreciate your tone of confidence, Rhaenyra - "

She nodded, making a playful show of curtsying.

" - but... I've scrolled down personal matters in those pages. Especially when it concerns..."

She paused in her step. Hands clasped behind her, she leaned forward, "Ah. I see."

When it concerns Daemon. But it need not be said aloud.

Rhaenyra has been privy to some of your musings about her beloved uncle. Only the ones that you would ever let befall on another person's ears, that is. Some of it... well... would be more than enough to make any maiden blush.

"How could I forget?" Rhaenyra smiled, "You fancy Daemon." Then her face turns sly, "He fancies you too, you know. But of course, I know why you would be reluctant to engage with all of... that."

Your hand reaches up in an attempt to hide your face from shame, "Gods, what would happen if anyone at court were to find it? It would only be so easy to determine that the thing is my possession. I've written my father's and mother's names on it, and yours, and Daemon's..."

"What's the worst that could happen?" Rhaenyra wrapped an arm around your shoulders, keeping you steady, "This court of sycophants never runs out of fodder for their dull conversations. Your journal might be spoken of for a day or two, then they shall move on to something of lesser import."

You sighed deeply, a mask of calm appearing on your visage, though Rhaenyra knew better.

It will be alright. Another half-truth. This loss will soon be a trifling thing.

If only...

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Daemon Targaryen has been having quite the interesting time as of late.

The pages of your small, tattered journal feel light on his fingertips, but he might be inclined to say that the mere feel of the parchment is exhilarating.

These thoughts were yours. These secrets, these desires were yours.

And you are damned if you would allow yourself to be one of his mere passing fancies. To be bedded one night and forgotten the next.

He once thought that his admiration is not well-received, until one morning, when he watched as an object fell out of your dress as you sprinted down the hallway, headed to only the gods knew where. You bumped into several ladies of the court, mumbling rushed apologies, only to be met with irate stares, but you went on without any mind to them.

Daemon failed to hide the smile that sprung from his lips. He quietly shifted to the spot where you dropped something, and that's when he saw it. Your journal.

It could only be yours. Who else would scroll down that thinly veiled warning on the first page, dedicated to any stranger who might deign to read it?

Daemon, of course, believed himself immune to such threats and he hurriedly found a secluded place to sit down and immerse himself in the woman who has managed to take sanctum in his mind.

And his heart, but the notorious prince would still be loath to admit that.

A few pages in, with amusement dancing his eyes, his chest felt warm at the image of you inking these thoughts onto the parchment.

Then came – “Once more, if you might be a nosy intruder, turn away now, or the very worst fortunes shall fall upon you. I swear this on both the old gods and the new.”

Perhaps I should stop. After all, she just might impale me with mine own Dark Sister if she found this in my possession. Daemon’s hand hesitated as he was about to turn the next page.

He had half a mind to close your journal, partially resolved at returning it to your chambers without you even having to notice its loss, but his eyes were quickly drawn to the following words…

“I finally saw Prince Daemon Targaryen this morning.”

How could Daemon stop his perusing at that moment? He read on with renewed interest, yearning to know more of what you think about him.

“By the gods, he is as beautiful as he is infuriating. I was made to be the cupbearer in today’s small council meeting, and the Rogue Prince strolled in, well in the middle of the discussion, without any mind as to the disturbance that his late arrival caused, if any. Not a care in the seven kingdoms. He paid absolutely no mind to me, standing there in the corner.

But I saw him.”

Daemon found himself rolling his eyes. Of course, he would give off the worst impression upon the first moment she glanced at him. But then again…

She thinks me beautiful. Vanity had allowed him to glaze over the part where you call him “infuriating”.

I suppose I shall have further use for your precious book, my sweetling.

And so the next few days were spent raking your journal for passages about him. Daemon knows full well that doing so can be deemed a violation of your privacy, but if he can use this to get closer to you, then this is something that simply must be allowed.

In his eyes, it may even be necessary. He needs this. Wants it, even. He wants to get under your skin, and these pages all but symbolize that very thing.

After all, Daemon swore that he shall only read the parts wherein he is concerned, and that is well within his right, is it not?

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“Daemon is indeed something to behold. Yes, my opinion still stands.

However, I am not certain what to make of him. Is he to be trusted? No. Bloody well not. Is he kind? That is not really a word anyone would use to define him.

But… there is something… something in his eyes. Daemon is much more than the rogue scoundrel that his moniker deems him to be. He is more than just ‘dangerous’ or ‘unpredictable’ or a potential ‘second Maegor’ (Truthfully, I find it hard to believe that last thing). Daemon is… more than that.

I just can’t find the words to encapsulate him. Perhaps words never can.”

The days pass quickly, and Daemon finds himself opening your journal now and again.

He cannot help it. The more he reads, the more he learns of you. But that is not the only reason. He is also discovering himself, as it turns out - an image of himself that he has not entertained before.

Not only The Rogue Prince, but a person of greater value than his notorious misdeeds. He believes that you see something in him that not even he can see himself.

Something more. Something… good.

Though his intentions prove to be not entirely innocent, as is the usual case. He comes upon one specific part, with your penmanship turning into a nervous scribble. It is as if you were wary that someone might be looking over your shoulder and deign to discover what salacious scrawls you have put down about the Rogue Prince.

Daemon’s eyes hurriedly glide over the ink, basking in what he reads.

“I must confess something.

I know it is quite unbecoming of a lady. Of a maiden. But in the last hour of the owl, I…

I…

Oh, gods. I pleasured myself to the thought of him.

You know. It can only be him. Daemon.”

“Seven fucking save me.” Daemon finds himself cursing with delight at what he just read. So his sweetling does want him in return. Oh, you cannot even imagine what I will do to you…

“We have grown quite close, him and I. Daemon is… Daemon is aflame. There can be no better word for him. He is fire incarnate, and I am not afraid of getting burned.

Or… I don’t want to be. I just. Want. Him.

I want to feel him. I want to feel his lips on mine. Not long ago, he leaned in close and his musk enveloped me. His lips very nearly grazed my cheek. Silly me could not come up with a witty response then and there. A shame. But can you blame me? All I could think about was snogging the fucking Rogue Prince himself!

Ha! Gods!

Perhaps I have gone insane.”

Daemon chuckles freely, alone in his chambers, your journal firmly between both hands. Any clueless onlooker would think it strange, as the Rogue Prince does not make a habit of exhibiting such behaviour. The pleasure in the tone of his laughter rings true and genuine.

If it becomes known that the reason for this is the Lady Y/n, then only a fool would dare deny the centre of their prince’s affections.

“But I cannot deny it.

I cannot have him. I shall not… he is… he does not seem willing to devote himself to just one lady. One wife. There is never a lack of gossip about the prince’s exploits in the Street of Silk, and a hundred other brothels besides.

His need cannot be sated it seems. I… surely, I will not be enough to sate it.

And I won’t allow myself to be one among many paramours.

If I am to love, I have to be chosen as the only one.

However…

Mother spare me.

However… I find myself imagining Daemon’s hands roaming freely across the planes of my skin, fondling my chest, his fingers drifting downward until they are buried in the heat of my soaked cunt.

When the castle is asleep, I find myself writhing in my sheets, thinking about the prince’s massive co – “

A knock echoes across the chambers. Daemon’s head shoots up immediately, irritation blooming across his face, but his cheeks remain flushed from what he just read.

Who the fuck is this?

His squire enters, a gangly young lad of six and ten. He bows hurriedly, and with a shaky voice, he implores, “My prince, you are being summoned by His Grace King Viserys to the small council meeting.”

Has that blasted formality come round again so soon? Daemon shrugs, turning back to the pages. Though he can hardly focus with the snivelling interruption still present in the room, who risks arousing his master’s anger when he speaks once more, “Forgive me, my prince, but I have been instructed to report with - ”

“Will you remove yourself from my sight willingly, or shall I do it for you?”

“M-my prince… I…” The squire nearly stumbles backwards at Daemon’s wroth.

“Leave. The small council will have the privilege of my presence in due course.”

And so, Daemon is again left alone, his squire’s rapid footsteps practically bolting out the doors.

Smirking, he greets your journal like an old friend. “Now, where was I?”

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Your newly gifted journal boasts of a far more opulent appearance than its predecessor. Rhaenyra made sure that the Maesters bound only the finest parchment and leather for this very thing; the cover even has gold and red embossments, as well as inscriptions in High Valyrian.

You were reluctant to accept such a gift, but Rhaenyra was persistent. And everyone knows, there is no refusing the Realm’s Delight when she has her heart set on something.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to know of the whereabouts of your journal… well, your old journal now.

Nestled in your usual spot in the gardens, you turn your new journal over in your hands, admiring the handiwork of the Maesters.

The rear possesses the inscription - Isse otāpagon hen ñuha ojūdan udra, se isse ōños hen skoros pirtra hembar… - which Rhaenyra explained as roughly translating to - In remembrance of my rogue ink, and in joyous anticipation of what lies ahead…

You did not fail to notice the deliberate placement of the word rogue, which can only be Rhaenyra’s doing. Clever.

Rogue ink. Rogue Prince. Am I to call myself Lady Rogue now?

“My Lady.” His voice calls out, nearly startling the journal out of your hands. Oh fuck.

“Prince Daemon,” you swivel around to his voice, and sure enough, he leans against one of the tall hedges, studying you. Not a care in the seven kingdoms, as always.

“Good morrow, sweetling.” He saunters over, permanent smirk on his lips. “That is a lovely thing you have got there,” he says, gesturing to the new journal in your lap.

“Why yes, it is.” You lay it down beside you, and he promptly picks it up without even asking for your leave.

“Isse otāpagon hen ñuha ojūdan udra…” He reads, the High Valyrian sounding musical on his tongue. Far better than how you attempted to voice out the same words.

“Hmm.” He hands it over, and sits right next to you, stretching his long legs in front of him.

“Rogue ink.” He mumbles thoughtfully, glancing at you.

“It was Rhaenyra’s idea.” You say, your throat suddenly feeling dry, your heart racing from his proximity.

“Ah, yes. I was very sorry to hear of how you lost your journal. Rhaenyra said you were quite devastated.” Daemon lies plainly. His beloved niece never shared this with him, for she knows you would not approve.

“She did?”

“I do recall, yes.”

“Oh.” You clear your throat, choosing to let it pass. “Well, she was awfully kind in giving me this as a replacement. I could not thank her enough.”

Daemon smiles, casting his gaze downward, as if he is privy to a secret that is kept from you. Does the handsome bastard know something?

“It is a shame that I could not find it,” you sigh, “I am still perturbed by the thought of someone whose intentions are unsavoury, reading all that I have written.”

“Whatever would you do to them, were you to find out their identity, my sweetling?”

You shake your head slightly at the name he has given you. Anything to distract from the warmth spreading across your face. You lean in closer, suddenly, much to Daemon’s surprise, “Would you let me wield Dark Sister, so I might teach them a lesson?”

Daemon swallows, the sight of your darkened, mischievous expression spurring him on.

Your stomach falls, the sensation so sudden that you simply freeze in place, with Daemon’s warm breath still fanning your face.

“You…”

Your face scrunches in a mixture of what can only be shock and anger and embarrassment. Daemon only finds it endearing. Adorable.

He starts, “Now, sweetling, try not to be cross - ”

You do not let him finish. You punch him in the shoulder, hard, making him lean away. Your legs seem to have a mind of their own, because you find yourself pacing quickly.

Gods, I just assaulted a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. More pacing. Who cares? It’s Daemon, and he deserves it.

The sound of his laughter echoes in the gardens, grating in your ears.

He stands, pulling something out of the pocket of his trousers, and presenting it to you. Your little, rogue journal.

Wrenching it from him, you can only ask, “You stole it from me?”

He looks appalled, “No, I would not do that. I found it. It might occur to you to thank me. Who knows what could have happened if anyone else besides me discovered your precious journal when you dropped it in a haste.”

“Thank you?” You stare him down, your left hand squeezing your journal firmly, threatening to destroy its very structure. “Why did it take so long for you to return it to me? Did you… did you…”

“Read it?” His eyes rake your face, over and over, enamoured by the passion he sees.

You say nothing. Of course he has.

“You must forgive my curiosity, sweetling. I could not help myself, plainly, to have some glimpse into your mind, into your heart… I simply… I had to.”

You soften a little at that. “Did you read everything?”

Daemon steps forward, overwhelming your space once more, “Not everything. Not quite.”

He gently pries the journal from your fist tucked beside you, and you watch as he flits through the pages as if it were his own. He whispers, “Only what you wrote about me.”

“Gods.” You desperately look toward the sky for some respite, not finding any.

He lands on the page he was searching for, a smile spreading across his face. “I am flattered, my lady, about how you envisioned us in what can only be… very compromising positions.”

“Enough, Daemon, please…” you bite your lip, as his hands drift across your stomach, settling low on your hips, pulling you flush against him.

The journal has been discarded by your feet, and Daemon only has eyes for you. His voice is genuine when he says, “You have written about me as if I were… someone else. Someone more.”

Your eyes catch how his tongue flicks across his lips. You start to give in, and say, “Daemon, I write only what I see.”

His lips are curled in their familiar roguish way, when he drifts even closer, tilting your face up at him with one hand.

“Daemon…”

“Sweetling… let me give you something to write about.”

In true Daemon fashion, he does not reign himself in.

Your lips battle each other, and Daemon tilts your head back so that he might advance more. A low growl escapes his chest as his teeth carefully clamp down on your bottom lip, pulling at the flesh.

He pulls away, pleased at how swollen your lips have become due to his work, “If I were inclined to write as you do, the words would doubtlessly be a tribute to you, sweetling.”

You did not expect that.

Still reeling from the taste of his mouth, you finally smile, though wryly, “You could only be telling me what I wish to hear. Soften my anger at how you invaded my most intimate musings.”

He nods once, one hand reaching up to lean on the plinth above your head. His violet eyes bore into yours, burning with unmistakable desire.

“I could indeed.” He kisses you again, his lips briefly pressing against your own, with a gentleness that is quite unusual for the Rogue Prince. “But mayhaps I shall prove to be quite convincing.”

You take a deep breath, peering up at him in a haze. Your shaky nerves finally settle, and you drink him in. Your rogue muse. The object of your affection, as he now knows. “Prove it then. My new journal is in need of fresh accountings. What better thing to write about than the taste of your lips…”

Another kiss, and another.

“I am yours, sweetling.”

Been a while, loves! Hectic stuff + writing ruts can tend to cause such breaks, but I'm glad to be back and writing again ❤️

Yes, it seems that I sometimes take weeks (even months) to update series works. But then I'll get oneshot ideas, and they get done within a day (like this one). I can't explain it either 🙃

But anyway - series updates up... soon enough!

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon fanfic

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