#But it's hilarious as I try to get it to work

[yourlipstogodsears]

Injured on Duty (Robby x Resident reader)

Summary: she’s one of his residents and works part time as an EMT, she gets hit by an ambulance as it drives off. So she ends up in PTMC.

As soon as the ambulance brings her in, Robby rushes to the trauma bay, his eyes scanning the patient chart. He sees her name and his world stops. He takes charge, barking orders at the nursing staff, "what’s the mechanism of injury?" He rushes to her side when the paramedics tell him she got clipped by an ambulance on duty.

she tries to sit up, “I’m fine. It’s just my shoulder”

His hand immediately presses down on her uninjured shoulder, pushing her back against the gurney. "Like hell you're fine! You got hit by an ambulance! Now lay. The. Fuck. Down before I sedate you!"

she laughs, “okay okay”

He narrows his eyes but can't help cracking a small smile at her laughter. "Only you would find getting clipped by your own company hilarious." He shakes his head as he begins examining her shoulder. "This is going to hurt like a bitch," he warns, probing gently.

she grunts softly as he touches the area of shoulder feeling it distended from the socket and the skin stretching “feels dislocated.. my shoulders dropped.”

His expression turns serious as he confirms his suspicion. "Yep, it's dislocated. I'm going to need to pop it back in." He looks into her eyes, trying to gauge her pain tolerance. "On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?"

“The strength of a thousand suns”

He chuckles softly, despite the tension. "Alright, drama queen. I'll take that as an eight or nine." He turns to the nurse standing by. "Get me a quick dose of morphine for pain management. We need to relax her before I reduce this dislocation."

she nods and smiles softly at Dr. Abbott who’s working with Robby today because they’re so short staffed, “does it have to be a small dose?”

Dr. Abbott raises an eyebrow at her question, smirking. Robby, however, fixes her with a stern glare. "if I give you a large dose, you'll be too relaxed and it'll make reducing the dislocation more difficult."

she sighs, “Robby, you are no fun”

He chuckles despite himself, adjusting the angle of her upper arm. "And you're a pain in the ass who can't handle pain like a normal person." Abbott hands him the morphine syringe "Stop complaining and let us do our damn jobs." He administers the morphine.

she relaxes, “you know what they say doctors make the worst patients. Med students are up there…”

He nods in agreement, his touch gentler now that the morphine is taking effect. "Too true. We know too much and expect too much." He positions her arm carefully, preparing to reduce the dislocation. "Alright, here we go. Try to stay still and breathe through it, okay?"

With a swift, practiced motion, he pops her shoulder back into place.

“FUCK- I HATE YOU!” she yells in pain, the entire ER could hear her.

Both he and Abbott burst out laughing despite themselves, with Robby gently pressing a cold pack against her shoulder. "I love you too, kid," he teases, trying to keep his tone light "Was that a nine on the pain scale? Or maybe a ten?"

she nods, “that wasn’t fun”

He smirks sympathetically, adjusting the cold pack. "No, I imagine it wasn't. But you're a trooper. Most people would've passed out or punched me." He smiles playfully, knowing she'll appreciate the dark humor.

“I thought about it”

Robby can't help but grin at her threat, shaking his head with amusement. "I'm terrified. Truly, you're a menace." He leans in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. "For the record, if you had punched me, I wouldn't have blamed you one bit."

“I’m well aware”

He laughs softly, adjusting her blanket to cover her better. "Of course you are." He pauses, his expression turning more serious. "you okay? Really okay? I know that hurts."

“You’re gonna be down a resident for a while if I gotta rest this shoulder. I won’t be able to work Thursday..”

His face falls at the mention of her missing work, a rare display of genuine concern. "Thursday? you can't even lift your arm without wincing. You're not coming in Thursday, or Friday, or possibly even next week." He sets his jaw, his protective instincts kicking in.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "You know what? Don't even think about coming in until you're cleared by me. I mean it." He points at her sternly, but his tone softens almost immediately. "And don't give me that look."

“Always the protective one” she mumbles.

He rolls his eyes, trying to maintain his stern facade, but failing miserably. "Shut up. It's my job to be protective. Especially with my favorite resident." He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're supposed to be resting, not arguing with me."

(First time writing for Robby, not sure how I’m doing but I have more to make this a second part.)

[zepskies]

ehehe I know I'm on the right track if I can make you laugh, Wayne! 😂💜

Ah yes, classic man with his "I'm fine." He'd probably still say, halfway through bleeding to death 😂

😆😆 Dean:

Hahaha such a good point! Hard to argue with that 😆

lol right? If he's not complaining about someone else driving his Baby, then something's clearly amiss. 😂

Yup, and have Sam stich you up with tooth floss, right, big boy? 😂

ahhaha "big boy" took me out, but yeah that floss is really gonna cut it 😂

While she's filling out his form, I had Ross and Joey in my head, too 😂

omg YES, that's the idea lmao. And you found the kidney stones gif!! 🤣🤣 I raise you with:

Awww, yeah ❤️‍��� But that's such a good point! Since Dean survived the finale and nothing ever happened in that barn, he has to face his mortality in a way. The "Fuck, what happens when I'm old and wrinkly" phase 😅

Quite literally all of that (glossing over 15x20 like જ⁀➴), and I just like the grounded humanness of Sam and Dean having to deal with the potential resulting health issues from decades of hunting, getting knocked out and stitched back together again, living on the road, etc. 😂

The ending was so wholesome! And I imagined the reader from Midnight Espresso. She was so warm, caring, stubborn, and sassy, too. Totally gave me the same vibes! 😭💜

You know how to get me all warm fuzzy like, friend! loll I'm so glad this made you think of the Midnight Espresso-verse. 🥹💜💜 She's very much all of those things, and like Dean, a natural nurturer, so he has someone in his corner really looking after his wellbeing in the "healthy and cared for" sense. Not just the "ya good?" 😂

Oh, Beau... Not the prostate exam 😂🫶 Btw, I loved how you switched up the different doctors for each of them! The kind of doctor fit their personalities so well too and made it even funnier 🤣

ahaha I thought it was fitting for him!! 😝 Aw thank you for pointing that out! I try to fit each situation with what's best for the character, and on this one I felt like showcasing different kinds of medical situations would be a fun way to do that. For some reason Beau always gets the (hopefully) funny everyday domestic issues 😆

Aaaah, I love that you incorporated this!!! Totally sounds like something he'd do too. Probably Jenny, Denise, and Cassie heard the same thing. He went on about it for days lmao

You've been on a roll recently giving me such good tidbits! lol Omg yeeeees he'd be complaining the whole week of post-man flu, probably even asking Denice if she can spy anything weird down his throat 🤣

Ugh, so true... Been trying to get my husband to go to one (and also been trying to get him to have a weird mole checked out for ten years. The argument: it hasn't changed in all that time, so it's probably fine 🙈😂)

oh my Goooood - men. 🤣 He needs to get that checked out! And isn't/wasn't he a military man? What's he afraid of?? 😂

Dead 💀🤣🤣🤣 (And on a side note: that aspect should be more featured in fics lol)

*snorts* not gonna lie, I was pretty proud of this line lmfao (idk why it's the first time I've referenced that kind of thing - maybe bc I'm not personally turned on by it that much, but I agree that it's a legit thing that isn't focused on as much in fanfic lol)

Oh, I'd make so many jokes when he comes back. Probably buy him donuts and other hole-shaped treats 😆

DEAD. Deceased. 🤣🤣 But I love how your mind works lolll. HC that she "rewards" him by buying him a dozen 🍩🍩🍩

Fuck, Alex... Ben fucking killed me! The fact that you picked a therapist was just hilariously delicious 😂

Girl I haaad to! 😜 Like, he would never go to the doctor anyway because he probably doesn't get sick enough to have to go, but a therapist? He definitely needs that appointment lol (or 12)

So true! I imagine it's hard staying level-headed with this man-child when he throws a tantrum. You almost have to talk louder to get through all of his white noise 🙈

Literally! It's like trying to be heard while a vacuum is going off. 🙄

But I'm really glad you thought his behavior in this was in character lol. He's kind of tricky as a character, but also predictable in some ways 🥲

That broke my heart a little, although it's so true 😭❤️‍🩹

Oh yeah, I broke my heart a little too on that one. 💙 I feel like that would be one of the few ways to get through to him in this situation.

Pffff 😂 Reminds me a little of that Rick & Morty episode where Rick refuses to go to therapy. I already feel bad for that psychiatrist 😆

LOL oh yeah, definitely feel bad for Dr. David on this one. He's gonna get an earful 😂😂

And of course Russell, much like Dean, is too "tough" for a doctor. A bullet wound you say? Nah, totally heals itself lol

Michelle said it in the comments -- there's a reason why women live longer in general lmfaooo

Hahaha I fucking knew she was checking him for injuries! Would've done the same thing 😂🫶 (Also, Russell, what did you expect? Sex? In this condition????)

Oh 100% she was after she clocked the way he was coming in 😂😂 (Russell's clearly an opportunist! 😆)

Again:

You need a hospital not a hardware store, you big idiot!!! God 😂🙈

LOL this comment had me deadd 💀

But he's got pliers! And dental floss! And an old bottle of whiskey in the trunk! (which functions as both disinfectant and a pain reliever: 2-in-1!) 😝

Yes, honestly, please quit. I wouldn't be able to sleep dating that man. What if he never comes homes from a job? 😢😭💔

Right?? It would be so heartbreaking. Ooh or the angst of an "almost." 😬 I actually have a long distance relationship Jacklesverse bingo square that I think I'm gonna have to use on Russell 😅❤️‍🩹

And I'm really curious what her punishment would've been. I'd make him eat veggies only for a month. That would break him 😂😜

lmfao that'll do it! No meat or sweets? He'd break for sure. I can hear him already, half desperation and half his usual self -

"Sweetheart, man can't live on spinach alone. That's how you get kidney stones." 😆

These were all so wonderful and so effing funny, friend! You nail these HC every time!!! ☺️💜

Awww you're amazing, thank you!!! 🥰 I honestly love doing these HCs! It's always a nice little creative reset for me. I'm so happy that you enjoy them! 💕

HEADCANON: Doctor's Appointment

HC: How would Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw react when you try to take him to the doctor?

Pairings: Dean x Reader || Beau x Reader || Soldier Boy x Reader || Russell x Reader

AN: This one is a request from my lovely friend @spnbabe67 over on Patreon! 💜

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, literal man children, medical stuff, angst, mentions of PTSD, hints of spice, fluffff

Dean Winchester

"I'm fine."

Ah yes, the same two growly words you've heard for an hour already.

"You're not fine," you testily reply. "You're not even 'Winchester fine.' You wanna know how I know? I'm driving the damn car right now!"

Dean shoots you a warning look.

One, you can tell he wants to say watch it on how you talk about his Baby.

Two, he doesn't want to admit that you're right.

He shifts in his seat with his arms crossed, trying to cover up a wince. It's the only tell that he's uncomfortable, even in pain, other than the fact that you've managed to hijack his car and take him to this damn doctor's appointment.

Dean can count on one hand the number of times he's been in a doctor's office for a genuine ailment, and not just trying to fish for information while impersonating some form of law enforcement.

That's because he's more of a "pour some whiskey on it," patch it up, and forget about it kinda guy.

And if we're talking about hospital stays, then that's usually a "one step away from death's door" kind of visit.

But when you first noticed something was off with Dean (confirming with Sam on the side of your suspicions), you did your damnedest to convince the man that he should see a doctor.

You even make the appointment for him as convenient as possible, around midday, so he doesn't have the excuse of it being too early to disturb his morning, or too late to mess up his afternoon.

Dean is a grumbly grizzly bear who only rolls his eyes in the waiting room when you offer him the clipboard to fill out his medical history.

"This is stupid," he says. "It’s probably just gonna clear up in a week or so anyway."

"You don't know that," you say. And you heave a sigh. Sometimes this man requires every last ounce of your ever-thinning patience.

You reclaim the clipboard and do this part for him too, filling out his fake-ass insurance information with his fake-ass name.

You detail his history and current symptoms to the best of your ability, and you make sure to jot down certain visits to free clinics in his past that he'd probably gloss over.

When the nurse opens the door and calls him back to see the doctor, Dean still glances over at you, mostly annoyed. But underneath, you sense his hesitation.

You slip your hand into his and get up with him. You grace a kiss over his knuckles — a moment of solidarity — and you go with him to one of the back rooms.

You later have to bite your lip against the vindicated urge to say I told you so.

The doctor informs Dean that he likely has a kidney stone.

If possible, Dean is even more sour the whole car ride home. He's convinced all the vegetables you've been trying to get him to eat are the culprit.

"This is what I get for eating fucking rabbit food," he grumbles. He levies a finger at you. "See? I told you. Nothing good comes of it."

"Right," you snort. "Zucchini is what's got you're, uh, pipe all blocked up."

But seeing the disgruntled look on his face, you remember just how much pain he's been trying to cover up for the past week. How many times you've found him hunched in the bathroom, dreading a piss.

You reach over and try to soothe him, gently stroking his thigh.

"It's okay, baby. We'll get the official test results soon. In the meantime, just keep drinking lots of water and get some actual rest."

"Whatever," he mutters.

But underneath the embarrassment, the shit, I'm getting old bit cropping back up again, and the Dean Winchester quirk of not wanting to be fussed over, not wanting to be seen as weak or ridiculous — what finally surfaces past all that is you.

Specifically, how much you push him to take care of himself.

Besides Sam, you're the only one who manages to keep him in check, the only one who cares that much, that you'd literally try to steal his car.

Yeah, I love you tends to cut through pretty much all the other bullshit.

Dean might not always express it words, but he does it now, taking your hand off his lap and pressing a kiss to your wrist, right over your pulse point.

You briefly take your eyes off the road to glance over at him, smiling. He's going to be out of commission for a while until this little problem clears up, in more ways than one.

The great Dean Winchester.

Beats Death itself, too many times to count.

Felled by pebble in his...well...proverbial shoe.

You try to hide your amusement, if not your affection. You bite your lip hard.

"Shut up," he warns, even though his lips twitch upward.

Your snort of laughter escapes before you can reign it in.

Beau Arlen

Beau is resistant at first, but he's probably the easiest to wrangle into seeing the doctor, whether it's yearly checkups or a man flu gotten out of control.

("You know what, my throat still feels weird on the left side, especially when I swallow. Feels scratchy and, uh, kinda hurts. You think I should get it looked at? What if it's laryngitis, or pneumonia, or God forbid, throat cancer. I mean, throat cancer, honey! That's nothin' to laugh at.")

You wish he'd have that "proactive" mentality with other areas of his health too, like not overworking himself at the precinct.

But when it comes to one exam in particular, he's your typical male of a certain age.

No matter how many times you remind him and write down the appointment on the calendar stuck to the fridge so he doesn't forget, he conjures some excuse for why he couldn't make it.

At first it's begrudgingly amusing, but by the third time, you're concerned, and even annoyed that he isn't taking his health more seriously.

"Look, I know it's not exactly pleasant, but this stuff is important. You gotta take care of yourself," you say.

You know you don't have to remind him that he has a daughter, but you will pull that card if you have to.

"Yeah, I know. It's just, uh..." Beau trails off, hands on his hips. He doesn't know what to tell you to make you understand how much he'd rather not go to this appointment.

"It's just a prostate exam, babe. I'll bet it's not half as invasive as a pap smear," you say wryly.

Beau shakes his head at you. "That very well may be, but believe you me, no man wants a latex finger up his..."

You raise your brows and tilt your head with a smile. "Well, you know. Some guys actually—"

Beau waves a hand at whatever you were going to say next.

"You know what, forget I said anything. I'd rather just live my life not knowing what's down there. Really, I'm good."

You utter a laugh, but you sidle up to him and grasp the open edges of his jacket. You turn your face up to him with a more sensuous smile.

"You don't mind when I do it," you tease.

Beau actually blushes. His cheeks and the tips of his ears tinge pink.

He clears his throat, his hands settling on the curve of your waist.

"Well, that's different," he says. His voice pitches lower, his green eyes taking on a slight mischievous gleam. "You're just teasin' the cave. You're not looking for coal."

Laughter bursts out of you like a gut punch. Your forehead falls against his chest as your entire body shakes with giggles.

Beau wraps you up in his arms. He tries and fails to temper his grin, even though his cheeks are still burning.

"All right, fine. I'll go," he says. "But I don't want to hear a damn peep out of you when I get back."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

(Oh, good fucking luck on this one.)

Ben rarely, if ever, gets sick. Of course, he's also nearly invulnerable.

However, you've been trying to get him to see a different kind of medical professional.

"Excuse me?" he growls. The first time you suggest it, he dismissed the idea with a roll of his eyes, thinking you were just trying to get a rise out of him. He doesn't appreciate you bringing it up again. "You better be fucking kidding."

"Ben..." You try to ply him with a gentle hand on his arm, but he shrugs you off, too irritated to curb the impulse.

"I'm fucking crazy, is that it? That what you're trying to say?" His voice raises, notch after notch. "I don't need a goddamn shrink!"

"I didn't say you were crazy!" you say. It's hard not to match his volume, but you manage to stand your ground while he huffs and puffs and eventually storms out.

You get discouraged and frustrated yourself, but you cling to every scrap of patience you can muster up for this man.

It's gonna take a few tries.

You start to suggest that maybe he should start easing up on the weed and the booze too.

Any time he snaps at you, you remind him that for as much shit as you've put up with him so far, this is the kind of shit that'll send you packing. Leaving his ass. For good.

He volleys back with empty words. "Fine, fucking leave."

You know they're empty, because every time you've called his bluff and packed a bag, he stops you.

"All right, enough. You've proved your fucking point."

After that, he tries to cut back on the booze, at least. He watches you pour out the Grey Goose and the Patrón.

Fucking fine by him. He's lost the taste for vodka, let alone that frilly French shit, and the cheap tequila.

But choking off the vein of one vice just makes another twice as strong.

Ultimately, it doesn't fix the problem either.

There's the time Ben blows a hole in the roof of your house (after a nightmare, he refuses to admit).

And there's a second time too. A third close call, and Ben pushes you clean off the bed so you won't get hurt.

If that didn't do it, he finally gets the picture after the second pink line appears on that white stick.

It now lies on your nightstand while you and Ben lay tangled together, bare skin against bare, flushed, sweaty skin.

A celebration, if you will.

His big hand lies splayed over your belly, protective, possessive, and deep down...grateful.

You glance up at the patched ceiling. Ben follows your gaze. His contentment fades into a frown, just like yours.

Both of you are thinking the same thing, if in different flavors of concern. Anxiety. (Guilt.)

"It's different now. You know that, right?" you say quietly. "If we're going to do this, you and me together, then I need you to protect us. Protect us from you."

At this point, you know he won't see a psychiatrist for his PTSD; not if it's to help himself (God forbid he admit that he needs it).

But if it's to protect you and your child, his own child...

Ben swallows a few acidic ounces of his pride.

Despite every cell in body that fights against it, he gets in his car the very next day and shows up for the appointment you made for him with Dr. David.

("What kind of quack fucking doctor goes by his first name, anyway? Christ.")

After the first couple of painfully awkward sessions, it's not so bad, Ben discovers.

He has a willing (heavily paid) audience for all of his stories from "the good old days."

Every gushy detail.

Russell Shaw

Russell is always quick to give reassurances, to downplay, to tell you that he's good.

But the day he comes home from a job with his bag hanging from his fingertips, almost dragging on the floor, his movements stiff as a rail — your heart sinks into your stomach.

"Hey, baby," he greets you tiredly, even tries to kiss you, but you're too busy running gentle hands over his arms and chest. Searching.

"Hmm, someone's missed me. Miss Handsy-yy-ahhh..." His playful quip dies the moment you find it.

Under his jacket lies the shoddy patch job on the bullet wound in his arm, located a few inches below the shoulder, just barely hidden by his sleeve.

"What the fuck is this?" you snap, half in anger, half in worry as tears spring hot in your eyes.

Russell immediately goes into damage control, soothing a hand down your arm and meeting your gaze.

"Hey, I'm okay. It's just a graze."

"Yeah fucking right. You're still bleeding!"

"Ehh, yeah, but no biggie. I've got some tools in the car—"

"No! We're going to the hospital."

"Sweetheart—"

"Right now! Let's go."

The man doesn't have the heart to argue with you too much after that. He knows he should've taken proper care of this before he got home. He really just wanted to, well, get home. To you.

But he regrets scaring you. He regrets making you worry.

He brushes the tears from your eyes and is grateful you don't ask what happened. He can't really tell you, even if he wanted to. His contract work with Horizon keeps his lips sealed for your safety, above all other reasons.

Only now does he begin to realize just how fucking unfair that is.

It really hits him when you sit with him for an hour and a half in the Emergency Department, waiting after the guy who fell off his moped, a kid with a little green army man stuck up his nose ("Hey, retro," Russell whispers to you), and a lady who can't seem to stop hiccuping.

Russell takes in a deep breath. He leans over to your ear.

"You know, we could just fix this up at home. A little needle and thread and some alcohol. Perfect First Aid kit," he says.

You narrow your gaze at him. "We're waiting to see a doctor. And don't think I'm done with you. When we get home, prepare to get punished."

A little smirk tugs at his lips. He brushes said lips across the back of your ear. "What am I, a little kid?"

You smile slightly as well.

"Well, if you're not going to tell me when you're hurt and try to cover it up like a little kid, that's how I'm gonna treat you."

Russell chuckles. His hand slips over your thigh.

"Gotta say, I'm kind of liking the sound of punishment. What'd you have in mind, sweetheart? Gonna spank me?"

And he's willing to give you more ideas.

You roll your eyes. Despite wanting to remain strong, his touch, the sensation of his lips brushing your ear sends a shiver curling down your spine.

"Oh, you just wait."

AN: lol I always have so much fun writing these. Let me know which one was your favorite this time! 💕

@waynes-multiverse You gave me another perfect little tidbit for Beau on Man Flu that made it into this one. 😂

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Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy + Russell Tag List (Part 1)

@kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato

@mostlymarvelgirl @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester

@deans-spinster-witch @sanscas @hobby27 @kaleldobrev @spnwoman

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @pieandmonsters @globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean

@lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @deansbbyx @chernayawidow

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @twinkleinadiamondsky

@my-stories-vault @0ccvltism @rizlowwritessortof @cookiechipdough @mrsjenniferwinchester

@fromcaintodean @k-slla @jackles010378 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused

@mrlonelycat @deans-daydream @leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989

@siampie @rubyvhs @winchestergirl2 @winchester-whiskey

[cosmica-galaxy]

The human in earth bread must have some awful teeth by now. With there diet and lack of proper cleaning tools that aren't make shift. Do cookies even know dentistry.

I think dentistry would be very hard for the human to agree to. But, I doubt they would allow their teeth to rot to such a state. The human would ask their cookie companions to help build a tool to clean their teeth, probably with a poorly drawn example of a toothbrush in the dirt, and the human would try to stay away from excessively consuming sugars. There are veggies in the world, so maybe they change from a sugary diet to a more veggie one to keep their teeth in better health for longer. Now, if the human gets into a fight--there is a moderate chance that they make take facial damage and will have a tooth or two knocked out. That's where I think Pure Vanilla shines the most, as he can help heal their wound and maybe regrow a tooth with his magic. Plus, the tooth wouldn't go to waste! I imagine that if the human lost a fang in a fight, a cookie will repurpose it into a special blade/sword and call it "witch fang".

Hilariously enough, I imagine that the human would gift Dark Choco Cookie (after he abandons the CoD) a fang that they lost in battle for him to fashion it into a special sword to replace the Strawberry Jam Sword he originally wielded. Of course it would require special smithing/craftmanship to prevent further breakage and rot, but the witch fang would have some special bonuses for the wielder!

Like doing more damage to enemies/cookies or acquiring some arcane elements once it's smithied and enchanted into a working sword. Plus, it would be able to have acidic properties and pierce through sugar-armor of his foes. Think of it in similar fashion to how humans in Monster Hunter use monster parts for armors/weapons. Why dark choco cookie? Well, I don't think he's a bad dude. He cares and he made mistakes, but he meant well from the start. So I think the "witch" gifting him something so rare would become like a priceless treasure to him. He gets the power he wants in a sword and he keeps his free will to boot. So, if the human loses their teeth, the medics just have them healed to regrow the teeth, and if the tooth is too far gone, it would be ripped out. This is done with numbing spells, obviously. Hope you are ready to lose at least a FEW teeth while visiting Earthbread! ; )

[heuldoch7b]

while i was gone, i was deeply contemplative about part of what made me take a hiatus in the first place, which is shame. long post forewarning

growing up on the internet (i was 10 when i started using the internet, back in 2010-11) and something i was (and frankly, still am) constantly exposed to was shaming others. ranging from "light hearted" shaming; this ranged from poking fun at an amateur artists work for it looking funny or it being super "tumblry" to shaming with the guise of social justice, you know "hey this artist draws X and thats BAD and if you support them youre JUST AS BAD".

when i was younger i poked fun at other artists and engaged in cancel culture, on a very small scale (just my friends and i) and i regret it. it was entirely due to my own low self esteem and peojecting fear of being made fun of myself. but ive retained that fear, even as i've matured and grown to understand how unkind it is to shame and mock others, ESPECIALLY as myself a weird, autistic artist who draws "cringe but free" stuff

and even with regards to problematic content, stuff that, reasonably more often than not, ellicits a "yuck" reaction out of most viewers, has turned more into a genuine social risk of getting a callout over being immoral or gross and losing your social circles and delving into isolation. this happened to me. i think it genuinely messed me up, and im dealing with it even now.

it has lead me to be avoidant of being honest about what i like, and being afraid of befriending others due to fear of being dropped again. this is of course not fair to you, potential reader, but unfair to myself as well. i want to develop a healthier respect for my friends as well as myself about what i do and dont like, and not feeling guilty for saying no or not liking something.

i think, as i remake my old pinned post, i am going to be more explicit on stuff, i like shipping the primarchs! i love it very much even. and if you do not thats absolutely A-OK. i like drawing the dismal warcriminals as genderweird. i like maybe skirting away from how chronically cynical and dour the universe (which i do still enjoy, im into warhammer FOR warhammer) and making silly, comfy stuff. fuck i LOVE drawing weird heroic nudity mythological scenes where some characters are like, centaurs, cause its sick as fuck.

and with all that i myself need to be okay with maybe people who i enjoy their work of dont really jive with all that, and that isnt the end of the world, its just being honest with oneself, and thats really important to do. i will be trying to maybe tag sensitive stuff like primarchcest better, so people can filter it out, but i am not gonna be hypervigilant about tagging everything because that would make me neurotic and id rather just be unfollowed or blocked at that point.

anywho, i really just wanted to put my thoughts down into words and share them, i honestly wrote this out and deleted it like 3 times already due to, hilariously, shame. but this is a really important topic to me and extremely relevant to my social presence on this website. i care for you all immensely, even if we are all strangers online.

i will be sad if i lose potential friendships over the things i like, but theres literally thousands of people if not more on this website, and it so fine and healthy to go like "eh no i dont want that in my life" to something like someones specific fuckin fandom art LOL

if any of you want to talk to me about your experiences with shame, id welcome it, may it be through a reblog or messaging me personally. i think its really important for all of us to be unashamed, mindful of course, but not stifling ourselves. be free have fun type stuff. i hope i can drop my own shackles too. thanks for reading

[bethanydelleman]

Hello there, friend! Firstly, I just wanted to say that I love coming by your answers to asks on the P&P tag. (All hilarious and so informative). Getting back into the groove of revisiting Austen (after being entrenched in WW2 history), and I'm sure this has been asked of you before, but would you have any book recommendations that can help jump me off on the historiography of Austen's works or perhaps some of your fave covering the early 17th century?

So sorry, I know I can definitely Google this, but I really just love reading through your analysis of things and would love to peek into the things you read to supplement your Austen obsession! <3 Any thoughts are greatly appreciated. <3

Hi and thank you!

I have read some specifically Jane Austen history books and some more general ones, here they are:

Jane Austen and the Navy by Brian Southam (published by the National Maritime Museum). I purchased this book because I was writing fan fiction about Captain Wentworth. The first half covers naval history and the real life Austen family (two brothers became admirals), the second half explores all naval references in Jane Austen's novels.

Fashionable Goodness: Christianity in Jane Austen's England by Brenda S. Cox (here are some posts from it) This is an independently published and researched book that gives an overview of the Church of England (primarily) during Austen's lifetime. It explains a lot of what is found in the novels around clergymen.

The Annotated Pride & Prejudice by David M. Shapard - Not the best literature analysis, but I find they have good history notes. I only own one because they are expensive.

What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew by Daniel Pool - this one is a bit surface-level, but it did have some very good information about the law

The Time Traveller's Guide to Regency Britain by Ian Mortimer (a post) - I found this very informative and it gets into spicy bits, which as a fan fiction writer I loved and needed.

Also, this amazing thesis about economics and Jane Austen:

“ABOVE VULGAR ECONOMY:” JANE AUSTEN AND MONEY by Sheryl Bonar Craig, which you can find here. Post about it. Learn within that Hertfordshire (Elizabeth Bennet) was the poorest shire in Austen's time and Derbyshire (Mr. Darcy) was the richest! But honestly, so much good information and very well sourced.

For literary analysis, the best one (in my opinion) is: What Matters in Jane Austen: Twenty Crucial Puzzles Solved by John Mullan. I disagree with him on one or two points (he's very anti-Mary Crawford), but in general this is an amazing book and gives a lot of historical context as well

To avoid

As for online articles, I always try to approach things like a scientist. I look for citations because a lot of people write history references for fan fiction without any sources. So reader be aware!

[babyblankyerror]

The mental image I have of this of Stan just trying to nab chocolate from the air whilenkne hand is missing through a portal, awkwardly bumping into walls like the DVD sign. Meanwhile Ford is SHOOK.

OOOH! YES! I like to think no kne has any idea that Stan can do this and they just accept it as part of Gravity Falls until the mystery twins come along to discover what's causing gravity to...fall. is it the town's name?

The mystery shack gaining things from other dimensions is such a fun concept! Especially if they're all mislabelled!

Ford, looking at some sort of weapon: Stanley that's...that's not a spinning-bazoo. Whatever that is... that's a-

Stan: I know

Ford: ...

Stan: ...

Ford slowly coming to the realization that Stan had just assumed he had super powers (because why wouldn't he) and has been blaming himself for years :'c

OH!! SO COOL! The longer Stan spends near the portal the more powers and he gets frustrated when they don't work because he knows they should be stronger! He knows because he sent his brother through the portal!

Funnily enough if he hadn't assumed he was the one who sent Ford through the portal then he would have no reason to practice and probably wouldn't find out until some major event.

@maggotpoolautism tags:

Imagining this-

Stan is hopeless, he is panicking because he doesn't know Ford's coordinates, gravity seems to be increasing which makes it harder to breathe.

Then he says "FUCK IT" and just starts sending supplies to random dimensions hoping Ford gets it so in many dimensions myths, legends, cryptic stories start of a random hand blessing / cursing people. It'd be really fucking hilarious if Stan somehow gives water to a population that doesn't have any and his hand becomes some sort of religion to that alien species.

Eventually he learns Ford's coordinates but he's always moving so it's hard to track and ot NEVER crosses his mind to let him know it's him. Like yeah- he'll write a note "what do you need" or "be careful" but never mentions his name or that it's him.

Ford is just receiving existential and cryptic messages and assumes the hand is normal- What does he need? Ah yes, that is a good question...perhaps knowledge hadn't been the answer but family (Stanley is asking what materials he needs). Be careful? What is the hand warning about? Perhaps it is foretelling some near in the future danger (Stan is just worried)!

Even easy notes like "Food?" Ford either feeds the hand which confuses Stan or he's like "Ah yes, the knowledge is the food for the brain" (he is reading at the moment)

Stanford is sent through the portal, meanwhile Stanley gets some mutant powers from the portal.

Why? Because shit sounds like something out of a marvel comic, COME ON!

[writerofautumnnights]

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 💋

[anonmousegosqueak]

Kilts and stuff with Popy!141!

So we chatted this shit until exhaustion in the chat and I'm happy about it, but i needed to share.

Johnny gifts them kilts made with his clan's pattern and they all love him. Soap got them made by his grandma when he sent her the measurements to notbleave anyone with a kilt shorter than normal (Ghost in particular) Soap teaches them how to keep them and how to dress with those even in casual situations and after a bit of time, since they are all horny and he doesn't want to ruin their kilts he makes some smaller (sluttyer) versions that are designed for each of them with charms. Just for when they get horny though. The smaller versions are so fucking short they barely cover the coverable and they still wear them the classic style (they obviously wear that at home and at home ONLY).

Ghosts is with black tartan and with small skull charms at the sides along with a small decorative chain that can be used to manhandle him.

Gaz has a light blue one with extra padding underneath to make it look fluffier and it has a little knife charm on one side and a gun charm on the other.

Price hets a short orange one that matches with his beard and has a cigar on one side and a boonie hat on the other.

Nik gets a dark green one with a small heli on one side and a cigar on the other, along with a small mask charm in the shape of a slaughter to prevail mask (because he canonically listens to that band)

Red gets a bright red one with a lighter on one side (fake) and a duck in the other.

Soap gets a teal one with a bomb on one side and a little heart on the other.

They can finally fuck with kilts without having to worry about ruining the big kilts!

AGHHH- I REMEMBER TALKING ABOUT THIS!!!

Oh my goodness, this is adorable.

Soap works with his grandma to make six beautiful custom kilts and he's trying to be all sneaky about it, right? Not just hiding it from his partners, but hiding the fact that they are *for* his partners.

Eventually he accidentally lets slip and she's just like "aww that's sweet! Good lad for making them proper MacTavish's."

She does NOT care that he's both gay, but gay and in a relationship with five other big burly dudes.

So yeah, one wonderful Christmas he gives them the kilts and it's beautiful and there's lots of crying, right?

But a problem quickly arises!

Soap is... Well there's something about seeing his friends- his boys, seeing them all pretty and in the MacTavish clan colors. He's a hound dog after all 😔

Ghost literally has to swat him away *several* times, reminding him that "Absolutely not. You'll ruin the things. If you cum in your kilt, I ain't helping you clean it up." And poor Soap is so conflicted. On the one hand, he's so proud and takes such good care of his kilt. On the other hand, he has five beautiful boys who aren't wearing anything under what is essentially a skirt.

So yeah- he's coming back to his grandma real quick to help him make a second set. Smaller? Nah, don't even worry about it GamGam, it's fine.

Anyways, custom miniskirt-kilts anyone?

And oh boy does he love it. They all do.

Johnny loves just randomly dropping to his knees in front of Simon, shoving his head under the kilt and having fun (all while poor Si is just trying to cook dinner)

Nik absolutely slides a hand under Price's kilt to cope a feel or even to leave some marks on Price's ass (horny old men go brrr)

And you don't even wanna *know* what Gaz and Red are doing (they're the most tame honestly, I just think it's hilarious)

The charms come later and it's *adorable*- until they start mixing charms and swapping one whenever they finish up having some fun. You'll regularly see Price with a little bomb instead of the normal boonie hat charm, or Nik with a lighter instead of his heli. They swap 'em back... Eventually. Aka whenever they fuck in the mini-kilts again.

DO YOU SEE THE VISION??

[oodearest]

Thinking about how Gohan choosing to live a semi normal life is objectively hilarious. Because to his fellow uni students or work colleagues he’s just an unnecessarily buff but overall nerdy and sweet guy. Then you zoom out, look at his family and treasured acquaintances and OH NO, WHAT? Are those aliens? Why can they fly? OH NO.

Plus he’s married to an heiress essentially? I just know he has people scratching their heads trying to figure him out.

Also I know some DBZ/DBS fans give him grief for losing his edge. But hello? This guy basically saved the world thrice and majority of that was before he was even 12. He didn’t even get to stumble across peril while going on a fun adventure, it literally hit him in the face every single time. Gohan entering martial arts retirement after clocking crazy stats in his youth is also HILARIOUS and I support suburban dad Gohan.

[docholligay]

With all due respect, hate you, hate you so much, you got such a great vision of Roy and Hawkeye it makes me want to be able to fund you liveblogging both versions of the anime and the manga. Like, what the hell, you're not even as deep as all of us on this side, and you just do *that*. Gets me mad in a way that I got to go write something about them too

I HAVE ONLY SEEN UP TO EPISODE 15 OF THE 2003 ANIME PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON'T SPOIL ME I AM REALLY ENJOYING MYSELF.

You know, sometimes in life, you just have to go, "Oh. Guess I'm here now." Same thing happened to me when I first got into Overwatch and I was like, "Oh, the untouchable unreachable cold assassin will be my girl!" and Tracer popped up like, "Did you mean the unfailingly brave and cheerful one? It is now!" (also, the main protagonist??? Or at least she was at the time. Never happens for me.)

I basically feel like I was punched in the back of the head in a dark alleyway by the relationship between those two. I am obsessed with whatever insane bullshit it is they have going on. The mind whirs. I like Roy and Hawkeye a lot individually, sure, but I don't know that they would, absent each other occupy all that much of my brainspace. But together!! Together!

Anyway, it's hilariously to the point where I almost don't want to watch more (I will, don't worry) because I very much love the vision I have of them cooked up in my head and I don't want to have something happen where it stops being fun for me, like, god forbid they kiss or some shit. I am trying not to get too attached to the thoughts I have about them, but when you watch a show the way I do, it involves a lot of ACTIVE watching and not passive watching, so I feel like a participant in the story. This can be really good--if I love something I tend to really love it and have lots to say--but it also means I get more disappointed than someone who binges the whole thing.

PLEASE DON'T SPOIL ME FOR ANY THING OR ANY VERSION

ANYWAY, this was a really nice comment! I am so happy that people who like Roy and Hawkeye seem to enjoy my take on them despite me not having much other than vibes to go on. They are very fun to think about. Having a great time.

They're so fucked up that I can't imagine them getting out and doing something different and better. Would they even know how to function in normal society? I can't see Hawkeye working in like, a cafe ahaha. Has Roy ever been allowed to learn how to warm and create with his alchemy, or is it all just destruction and COULD it even ever be something good?

AGAIN, I AM, A WOMAN ONLY 1/5 OF THE WAY THROUGH THE 2003 ANIME, AM JUST TLAKING OUT LOUD FOR MY OWN ENJOYMENT AND TO TORTURE MY FOLLOWERS. PLEAAAAASSSEEE DON'T SPOIL.

I think maybe Roy knows how utterly fucked he is for civilian life and part of his 'dog of the military' warning is 'if you grow around this metal pole, you won't be able to leave it alive'. Maybe. But Hawkeye, no I think--well in fairness I don't that she's thought it that far out, nor cares to. I think she's probably assumed she'll die in the service and that'll be that. Not in a melodramatic way, just, matter of fact*. How could she ever retire, even? Would she leave with Roy, if he asked? Would he ever be so unkind as to ask her? Even if he managed to find the will to walk out?

He's a mess, and she's a mess, and they are messes in completely different ways, and I am glad it inspires you to think about them some more as well!!

*Eta: I also think she underestimates how deeply Roy would mourn her. Not in a 'I'm not worth anything :(" way, I just think there's a part of her that doesn't like the idea of somehow being the cause of Roy being more of a disaster than he already is so she is just like, "It'll be fine. Hughes will have to step up. He'll be fine." But Roy has like two friends and Hughes is a functional human being.

AGAIN PLS NO SPOIL!!

[littlespirit-199]

Rewatching season 1 and the episode where Lloyd tries to make the ninja fight with each other is actually hilarious because most of what he does isn't even worth getting mad at and they're all acting like it's the biggest deal lmao.

Cole beating Kai's high score - Kai, why are you mad at him for that?? Be so for real, that's your own fault.

Jay messing with Cole's cooking - I'll give this one the pass because it's the ONLY one of the four that could be interpreted as malicious

Zane breaking the sparring bot - honest mistake

Kai's uniform with Zane's whites - honest mistake

Like Lloyd is trying so hard to sow seeds of distrust in this team and THIS is the best he can come up with? I mean, it worked, but it's still a little silly goofy if you ask me.

[basedkikuenjoyer]

Maternophobia

I could use our bone boi getting stepped on, head cruelly cocked back so he can't see dem panties. Part of me wanted the image to be them all tied with with Nami hilariously giving Jinbei shit because he's supposed to be able to handle things. But no. Boney get a "whiteout" panel and that makes this a true red-letter day. This is subtle, but it is exactly what I wanted to see out of Brook & Gunko. He seems to recognize something about her. He's able to learn she's a fan. So even given this tense situation, he's very polite in his rejection to be a music slave. But specifically highlighting how Luffy gave him a new lease on life.

We've established the idea that Gunko might be somewhat a victim in the sense of never really knowing she had a choice. Brook is providing proof that circumstances can change and relationships can change them. Do you know how badly I wanted Brook to have a moment like this with Kiku? Obviously Gunko is an antagonist and that makes things very different in a lot of ways, but I love how even the framing here and following that bit from Nami serve to highlight what we talked about last time. Brook is getting a chance to show where his specific experience and wisdom can do what Jinbei cannot. And that is something very cool and very hard to express so I want to highlight it and admire it when it happens.

With that out of the way...iconic. You know what? No. It's peak "Wife Bad" Boomer Humor™ but it works because it is so unabashedly peak Boomer Humor™ and doesn't feel like it needs to put on pretentious airs of justifying itself. This is hilarious. The real monsters have awoken from the children's dreams...THEIR MOTHERS!!!

Fuck it, based. I have mother issues, stopped being scared of a pathetic drunk as I got older but when I was a kid that shit was terrifying. I don't think these giant moms are that bad, but they sure seem strict and imposing. A serious challenge indeed. We also have Spooky Gregg back hanging around a few panels so that's nice. It seems our eulogy was premature. But he is already a ghost so it's never fully inaccurate to honor his memory.

Jokes and personal trauma aside, there's a bit more thematic harmony with this gag than just lol scary moms. A land like Elbaph is now where kids are well behaved and focused on education kinda sounds like a land of strict, strong moms keeping them in line. Not a huge deal, the gag is good on its own, if they were actually Dorry/Brogy's wives I'd be on their side because you better not have run of on a 100yr duel if you're married. But it does connect more to what's going on than just being a silly goof.

Speaking of cool, very impressive Collun. He's jumped up to the front of the line and willingly got involved in the compulsion to follow the arrow just for a chance to help and keep things calm. Down below with Ripley & Scopper finding this out is hilarious...and kinda feeds back into that point about parents. Gaban's all like, hell yeah that's mah boy. Ripley's not having it and demanding he go save the kid. Hilarious and they're cute together.

And it leads to the cool part at the end! Sure there's a former Roger Pirate heavyweight jumping into the fray but they have angered the Devil Child and that is not a smart thing to do if you like things like being alive. I will never ever ever not love the series treating Robin like a core threat on the Straw Hats rather than a smart pawn to try and capture. Show Saul how far you've come by showing how fiercely you'll protect the friends you've found girl.

[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

Buzzed

Bucky x GN!Reader

Description: After growing his hair back out during his time in Congress, Bucky decides to do something drastic with his looks

Warnings: some light feels at the start, mostly fluff, Grumpy Old man Bucky being menaced by his friends (very lovingly), Alpine appearance!, just some cute Headcanon

A/N: I saw Sebastian’s new look, and had an idea. Not beta'd, and not my finest work, but when the idea strikes y'know?

((18+ only below the cut please and thank you!!))

“Bucky, I’m home!” you shouted as you shut the door, bags of groceries in your arms.

“In the bathroom.”

You placed your items on the counter and went to see your boyfriend.

A soft buzzing emanated from behind the partially open door, and you cocked an eyebrow.

You didn’t know exactly what it was you expected to see when you opened the door.

But finding a shirtless Bucky, clippers in his hand, a pile of hair laying at his bare feet and a shaved spot on his head wasn’t one of them.

You leaned against the doorway, watching, the silence only broken by the buzzing of the clippers.

“I can explain.” Bucky said hastily, switching off the device

“Okay…?”

“I needed a change, after Congress, after everything,” he sped up as he explained, “and I know you love my hair, and I’m sorry, but I just needed to get it off, I kept looking in the mirror and seeing The Soldier and I just…”

His voice trailed off, absently kicking a small tuft of hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

You shook your head, touching his cheek for a moment before reaching to lightly touch the shaved bit.

“You don’t have to apologize, Buck,” you gave him a peck on the lips, “it’s your hair, you can do whatever you want with it.”

“I know it’s my hair, but you love it, and now I’m shaving it all off,” those blue-gray eyes searched yours, searching for any sign that it was a lie, “I don’t want to make you upset.”

“You won’t, Sweetheart,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him gently, “but why don’t you let me do this for you? It’ll be more even since I can see your entire head.”

He nodded, and let you sit him down on the closed lid of the toilet, and wrapped an old towel around his shoulder

“Ready, Baby?” You asked.

He nodded, and you switched on the clippers.

Bucky didn’t say anything as you worked, just watched his long brown hair fall in piles around him.

Once you got done, there was enough hair on the ground to make a small dog, and you used the towel to wipe the little hairs off his body.

“Very handsome,” you murmured, gently tilting his head from side to side.

“You mean that?” he asked, his eyes nervous, “you still want me?”

“Of course, Honey,” you took his face in both hands and kissed the tip of his nose. Bucky wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap, “long hair, short hair, no hair, it doesn’t matter to me. You’ll always be the most handsome man in the room to me.”

And you meant it, you absolutely do

You adore him no matter what, and he looks very handsome with his shaved head

But it does take some getting used to, logistically speaking.

He didn’t have anything for you to tangle your hands in anymore when you were locked in a heated makeout session, leading to you awkwardly smacking his stubbly head on more than one occasion.

(He thought it was hilarious don’t worry)

He loves feeling your hand running over his buzzed locks, with the grain and against it.

You also found out that scratching your nails through his shorn hair gets him to fall asleep the same way stroking his hair did, so you do it for him nearly every night.

Alpine loves Bucky’s buzzcut, it’s hilarious to you

“Al, come on,” You laugh as Bucky shoos her away from his head, trying to stop her from licking at his scalp while he cuddles you, “give it a break, would ya’!?”

You laugh as she switches to rubbing her head against his, purring loudly.

And oh God his friends lovingly give him so much shit

The first time Sam sees it, he immediately accuses Bucky of copying his haircut

“Were you mad that I’m hotter than you are, Barnes?”

He asks with the most shit-eating grin

Yelena sends the Thunderbolts Group Chat a meme that someone made of footage of him fighting with the Thunderbolts over the “she’s bald and she’s torturing people with hair!” sound effect and you and the rest of the chat think it’s VERY funny

Bucky finds it less so.

“It’s a stupid joke” he grumbles to you with a frown.

You just laugh at your grumpy old man.

The tabloids have a field day with it when he finally reveals his haircut, speculating on everything from drugs to a midlife crisis after his time in Congress.

You and Bucky roll your eyes every time you see them, laughing at their absurdity.

“I think next time one of them tries to interview me I'll heavily imply you were abducted by aliens,” you tell him one morning over coffee, “and they're the ones that took your luscious locks.”

“God, don't encourage them.”

Eventually his hair starts to grow out again, and you love when he starts getting some peach fuzzIt's so soft, and when it's finally long enough to run your fingers through it you pretty much NEVER stop

Basically, you love your handsome man with your whole heart no matter how much hair he has 💕

A/N: wasn't sure how to end this one, but idk I just really enjoyed the idea of Bucky doing all sorts of fun stuff with his hair 💕

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

etoile season 1 thoughts (spoilers!)--

this was so much fun and i really enjoyed it! the sort of meandering, the-hilarity-of-everyday-life-stress vibe combined with beautiful dance sequences was just what my soul was craving. it brought back fond memories of slings & arrows, and not just because luke kirby is there playing someone named jack!

really enjoyed luke kirby's jack. he plays Very Stressed Out All The Time in a really delightful register. may he make it to 46.

cheyenne, my beloved!!! her improbable love of the nutcracker; her seafaring righteous rage; her taking susu under her wing; how much it hurt her to be accused of having no room for people in her heart. she is everything.

genevieve is my other everything!!! <3 i love how she kind of just flops around like a glamorous muppet, trying to keep it together. (i also really enjoyed the chaos of her visiting her sister's house.)

i guess my thought on this love triangle or somewhat love triangle-y thing we've been presented with is: i can see jack and genevieve as happily married people, whereas i can see jack and cheyenne having a tortured, perhaps-unsustainable, exhilarating romance of creative soulmates. i lean toward a happy marrieds energy myself, but i'll try to respect the latter despite my personal preferences because who am i to tell the show what its main otp is? i just always lean boring because it's who i am! (re: jack and genevieve, i also liked seeing a will-they-won't-they m/f couple where both people are in their forties. we never get that! tedbecca scars still fresh! i thought it was really sweet when he sent her the four heart emojis in a time of emotional peril. ❤️❤️❤️❤️)

mishi and cheyenne's mom, god, what a totally joyous plot! a stressed out teenage girl with perfectionism foisted upon her bonding with and becoming inspired by an eccentric dgaf old lady is just the storyline of my dreams. i loved every second. they are THE new iconic roomies!

i liked how we got a lot of intergenerational friendship in this show: the above plot, plus cheyenne and susu, and jack and nicholas. (gosh, the scene where nicholas wasn't dead in the last episode! the feelings!! those two guys had a lot of really sweet lovely scenes together, and i love the open affection between them.) it's nice!

nicholas, a bombastic joy! (he has had my heart since killing eve, rip bill.) crispin shamblee, a problematic joy! i especially loved when he showed up at jack's birthday party having recently been Taken, with his snoopy bandaid and his fresh memories of s3 of charmed. lol!

i loved the tobias and gabin romance! canon gays who aren't rory and paris kissing in an asp show at last?!?! (and what a totally joyful first kiss scenario!) tobias would be A Lot IRL, but gosh, he's great as someone who lives in my tv. so endearing to me.

KELLY BISHOP HELLO AGAIN!!!!!! my heart soared whenever i saw her. especially the scene where she read the nutcracker to the little ballerinas.

i also loved getting to see susie myerson's ex love again as the conductor who's jack's sister. she has a great presence onscreen.

i'm sad that gael hurt cheyenne's feelings but also he was pretty dreamy and i'm not unintrigued by his romance with aforementioned jack's sister!!

cheyenne and her mom were also absolutely hilarious together. like mother, like daughter, truly.

i know yanic truesdale didn't have a ton of substantial material here, but man, was he delightful. loved him and loved his work bestie chemistry with genevieve. they were such a fun unit.

that one blonde lady with the glasses who's in all the business scenes (marie?) is soooo gerri kellman-core and i love her for that. <3 i love you, blonde lady with the glasses.

SEASON TWO WHEN?

[dioslesbianwife]

You know what time it is chaos time.

The jofoes partner saying the as so beautiful she wishes she could get them pregnant.

Like they helped her with something important and her saying thank you beautiful man I wish I could get you pregnant.

LMAO i would def say this to them (cause it's true) anyway totally, hope you enjoy and ty for the laugh and requesting

Dio

He literally freezes for a second like his brain blue screens.

"…You…wish you could… get me pregnant?" He repeats it slowly, like he can’t quite believe his ears.

Then he bursts out laughing- the smug, delighted kind.

"Of course you do. I am a vision of perfection, after all."

He leans down and cups your chin, purring: "Tell me again, my dear... Tell me all the absurd little things you would do to worship me."

He's SO into it. He thinks it's hilarious and adorable and he feeds off the worship like it's oxygen.

Kars

Kars just raises an eyebrow at you at first.

"That is biologically impossible."

(Thanks, Captain Obvious.)

But when he sees your very earnest, starry-eyed expression, he actually smiles, a rare genuine one.

"You would wish to give me life? Hm... A fascinating sentiment."

Secretly? He’s absolutely preening inside. His ego is stroked SO perfectly.

He’ll teasingly remind you later, too: "Careful. Admiration like that may compel me to keep you at my side forever."

Yoshikage Kira

Kira chokes a little bit.

He's trying to help you reach something off a high shelf when you say it- and he just stops moving entirely.

"…You…you think I'm...pretty?" he says very quietly, almost stunned.

You nod seriously, and he blushes faintly, smoothing his hair back.

"That’s… very flattering."

(Internally he's screaming.)

For the rest of the day, he’s lowkey dazed and keeps sneaking glances at you like you hung the damn moon.

Diavolo

Diavolo immediately glares at you -  but it’s very obvious he’s flustered.

"Tch. Foolishness."

But also... the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s fighting a smile.

You can practically hear him replaying it in his head on loop later, brooding in his dark throne room like,

"She wishes she could impregnate me...because I am beautiful..."

He’s smug about it for DAYS.

If you bring it up again, he’ll growl, "Say it again." (But softer. And he won't meet your eyes.)

Doppio

Doppio turns BEET RED.

"H-Huh?!! You want to-  get me- pregnant? What the hell does that even mean?"

He covers his face with his hands and crouches down like he's about to explode from secondhand embarrassment.

"You think I'm that pretty...?"

You reassure him and he just lets out a tiny whimper.

For like a week straight after, whenever you compliment him, he’ll get shy and mutter "She wants to get me pregnant..." like it’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to him.

Enrico Pucci

Pucci stares at you silently for a long moment.

"That… is not how biology works." He says it with a totally straight face.

But his ears are turning pink.

He tries to turn it into a theological discussion about life and creation and destiny- 

but you can tell he’s secretly flattered to hell and back.

He’s a little extra affectionate after that: lingering touches, softer voice, glancing at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

Funny Valentine

Valentine chuckles immediately.

"Such patriotic devotion to your president, my dear."

He tilts your chin up and gives you a sly, knowing smile.

"If I could be blessed with such a thing... it would be a child as beautiful and strong as its parents."

Plays along smoothly because God, he loves how much you adore him.

Will absolutely offer to get you pregnant instead.

Diego Brando

Diego does a double take like he MISHEARD YOU.

"You wanna WHAT- ??"

He’s caught somewhere between being insulted (he's not some weak thing!!) and SO smug because you think he's beautiful.

He smirks, ruffles your hair, and says, "Yeah, you’re obsessed with me. Can’t blame you."

Teases you about it nonstop after:

"Bet you'd knock me up if you could, huh? Make me your cute little trophy husband?"

(He's secretly kinda into the idea, not that he'd ever admit it.)

Tooru

Tooru grins like an idiot.

"Aww, Y/N-chan-  you think I'm that pretty, huh?"

He immediately jumps on you, pretending to faint dramatically into your arms: "Impregnate me, my goddess!!"

He plays it up so bad you’re both laughing, but then later he just looks at you, all soft and earnest:

"You're seriously too cute."

Starts using it as blackmail when he wants attention: "You SAID you wanna get me pregnant. C’mon, cuddle me."

[godricgryffinsnore]

Braids And Butterbeer ♡ : A Remus Lupin Fan Fiction.

pairing : Remus Lupin x female!reader

summary : Remus Lupin finds himself tasked with helping Sirius Black with a rather ridiculous request—learning how to braid hair. As the Marauders engage in their usual banter, Remus ends up trying his hand at braiding your hair, leading to a hilarious and tender moment between you two.

warnings : Mild humor and lighthearted banter, Fluff and affectionate teasing, No major conflict or intense themes, just good-natured fun, use of Y/N, reader has hair long enough to braid. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

word count : 1.2k

main master list <3

banners : @pngblog and @cafekitsune

It was a typical morning in Gryffindor Tower. The sun was just beginning to filter through the thick curtains, casting warm golden rays over the mess of half-done homework and misplaced socks that was the dorm room.

You, of course, were trying to be productive. You had your Transfiguration notes spread out before you on the desk, quill in hand, and a soft sigh escaped your lips as you tried, and failed, to focus on the page in front of you.

Remus Lupin, always the good student and always far more focused than you, was sitting across from you, his own books laid out perfectly, as though they were a reflection of his calming presence. But today, something about the way his gaze kept flicking to you wasn’t quite the usual.

“Remus,” you said, dropping your quill with a dramatic sigh, “I can’t concentrate. It’s the second day of the week, and I’m already burnt out.”

He smiled softly at you, the corners of his lips lifting. “You’ve been at it for hours, darling. Maybe you need a break?”

“Not a break,” you groaned dramatically. “I need something to distract me. Something fun and unproductive.”

“You came to the right place,” Remus replied with a grin, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m always available for a distraction. You know that.”

“Is that so?” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him in mock suspicion.

He raised an eyebrow, his voice soft and mischievous. “Yeah. So, what do you have in mind, dove?”

The sound of footsteps in the hallway interrupted your response, followed by a very loud and very animated Sirius Black bursting through the door, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “Oi! Remus, I need your expertise. Now, mate. You owe me.”

Remus groaned and rolled his eyes, but it was hard to stay annoyed with his best friend when he was clearly trying to suppress a smile. “Sirius, I’m in the middle of something with (Y/N),” he said, throwing a glance at you, eyes warm. “I’m busy.”

Sirius crossed his arms and gave a dramatic, over-the-top pout. “You can’t leave me hanging like this, Rem. I’ve had a rough night, mate. Help me out.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips. “What happened, Padfoot? Did you get into another prank war with James?”

“Worse,” Sirius said, a melodramatic sigh slipping out. “James tried to braid my hair.”

Both you and Remus blinked at him.

“I... beg your pardon?” Remus asked, looking thoroughly confused.

“It’s true!” Sirius insisted, sitting down on the edge of your bed with an exaggerated slump. “He saw me in the mirror, looked at my hair, and decided it would be funny to try and braid it. And now, I look like I’ve been caught in a breeze from hell.”

You burst into laughter, clutching your stomach as you collapsed back onto the bed. Remus, for his part, gave a long-suffering sigh, a fond smile on his lips.

“I’ll never understand you lot,” he muttered, shaking his head. “But fine, Sirius. What do you need me to do?”

“Remus,” Sirius said, his voice lower and far more serious now, “I need you to teach me how to braid hair.”

The sight of Remus looking at Sirius with a mixture of disbelief and amusement made your heart skip a beat. You couldn’t help but love how ridiculous the Marauders were—especially when they had no idea how to be anything but completely themselves.

“I’m not teaching you how to braid hair, mate,” Remus said, lifting his chin, clearly done with this conversation.

“Please,” Sirius whined. “For the love of Merlin, Remus, help me.”

You sat up in bed, wiping your tears of laughter away, and looked between them. “I’ll do it,” you said, still grinning. “It’s not hard, really. You just need patience. Maybe Remus can help you practice on me.”

At this, Remus’ face flushed slightly, and you smirked, knowing exactly what you were doing. He tried to hide it, but you could see his fingers twitch at the thought of touching your hair.

“Oh?” Sirius asked, suddenly too curious for his own good. “You think Remus can braid? I thought he only had time for reading and potions. I didn’t know he had a secret talent.”

Remus rolled his eyes, though there was no real annoyance in his gaze. “I don’t, actually. But fine,” he added, finally giving in. “(Y/N), sit down. I’ll try my best.”

You grinned, sliding to the edge of the bed. “If you mess it up, I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

Remus chuckled softly as he sat behind you, taking a few strands of your hair in his hands, his fingers a little clumsy at first. “I’ll do my best, love,” he said, and you could hear the affection in his voice. “But don’t expect a masterpiece.”

You smiled, letting your head fall back against his chest as he started to weave the strands together. The light touch of his hands on your hair was somehow both tender and surprisingly gentle, and you let out a contented sigh.

“Not bad,” you murmured, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I might even start coming to you for all my hair needs.”

“Really?” Remus asked, his tone full of mock-surprise. “I thought I might be the last person you’d trust with your hair.”

“You’re the only one who’s not made my hair look like a nest of pigeons,” you teased, grinning as you felt his hands freeze for a moment. He was always so easy to fluster, and you couldn’t resist. “You’re doing great, darling.”

Sirius snorted from across the room, but he didn’t interrupt. He was too entertained by watching Remus fumble with your hair, his typically reserved friend looking far more vulnerable than usual.

It took Remus a little longer than he’d like to admit, but eventually, he finished, and you stood up to look at yourself in the mirror. “Well?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

Remus stepped behind you, his hands on your shoulders. His eyes softened as he looked at the braid. “It’s not perfect,” he admitted with a quiet laugh, “but it’s... better than I expected.”

You smiled, turning to face him, brushing your fingers through the braid. “I think you’re my new personal hairstylist, Remus.”

He smiled back, shaking his head fondly. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you, love?”

“Only a little,” you said, your voice softening as you gazed into his eyes. “I’m very impressed, darling.”

“Good,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead, his fingers gently brushing through your hair. “You’re worth all the effort, my love.”

Sirius, rolling his eyes dramatically, stood up from his spot on the bed. “If you two are done being soppy, maybe we can grab some butterbeer in the common room? I’ll buy.”

You and Remus both looked at each other before nodding in agreement.

“Sounds good,” you said, a soft smile still on your lips. “But only if I get to sit next to you, Remus.”

“Deal,” he said, his voice low and full of affection as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Honestly, you two make me sick.”

You couldn’t care less though. Nothing could ruin this moment with Remus, especially not a grumpy Sirius. You were his, and that was more than enough.