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yellowcabdriver · 3 years ago

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saudade

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Wordcount: 2.7k

Warnings: unspecified age gap, angst, hurt/comfort, little use of y/n, minor physical descriptions of reader

A/N: This is part two to Anemone! It took longer than I intended and turned out to be very personal to me. Anyways, hope you enjoy it ❤️

She left.

She was gone. For good.

Javier walked past her office a few times just to make sure and he was disappointed, not unexpectedly though, that her office was now occupied by some gringo prick that the new ambassador, Crosby, had brought with him to Colombia.

When Murphy told him that she left, Javier didn’t really know how to act. He was in disbelief, straight up denial, trying to get more details from Murphy who seemed rather indifferent towards Javier’s blind panic.

“You’re joking, right?”

“No, she left for Boston with Noonan.”

“When?”

“This morning.”

This fucking morning, Murphy said. Javier wanted to wail. “This fucking morning” he was busy running around dusty streets of Medellín seeking for intel in the company of the Colombian police. He returned with nothing—less than nothing, actually—just to find that she was now gone.

God knows, Javier genuinely wanted to make amends with her. He was, or at least believed himself to be a man who was not afraid to apologise. He just thought he would still have time. Where would she go, right?

Jesus...

He was barely able to fight the instinct to run to the airport, get on the plane to Boston and tell her that...

“Tell her what exactly?” a venomous voice in his head would interrupt. “You hurt her.”

He did hurt her. He realised that way too late.

“Say hi to Maria.”

That was the last thing she said to him, the worst farewell possible, and every time he replayed these words in his head, it felt like a razor blade would run through his brain.

It didn’t last long with Maria, mutual infatuation dissolving like a sugar cube in a hot cup of tea after some six months. It was fun, it was quick, it was intense. Javier did like Maria a lot, what was there to deny—Maria made him feel young and reckless, what they had was a fleeting sensation, an illusion of him being young again but her... she made him feel like himself.

They didn’t know each other inside out but they never needed to. Instead, they would nonchalantly share casual details about each other—places in their hometowns, favourite food, favourite music, pet peeves, habits, stories behind scars, scattered childhood memories—and there it was, their whole life shared in these little anecdotes. There was something in her that Javier would naturally gravitate towards and that feeling of outlandish familiarity, ease, sense of belonging in their relationship deceived him into believing that she would always be there, somewhere nearby, like a home he could always return to no matter how far he wandered off. Oh how wrong he was. As much as Javier detested cheap cliches, he took her for granted and now he was reaping what he sowed.

He did act like a fucking asshole, there was no doubt in that. He was, after all, unnecessarily cruel to her and the regret ate him alive. The cowardice of his behaviour shamed him into senseless agony, but accepting the suffering with a tolerance of a fucking martyr, Javier silently embraced the daunting remorse. He deserved the devastating hollowness in his chest every time he looked at the picture now sitting on his bedside table in a frame that he actually went out and bought specifically—a photo of him sitting on her desk and her behind him with a wide smile, her dimples showing. As pain scratched out his insides into a bleeding mess, Javier would lay down and think about how mercilessly he abandoned her for Maria. How he abandoned her for a fleeting sensation.

“Look, hermosa, I know what you and I had... it was great. But it meant nothing, it wasn’t serious, you know that, right? You can’t be mad at me because now I’m with someone else.”

Every time he returned to that evening at the ambassador’s office, he would cringe at his words. At his behaviour. How he tried to look so indifferent and aloof. He would honestly punch himself if he could. He could’ve at least said something better, less… brutal? Because god, she looked so angry, so hurt, so vulnerable—though she would never break the surface—and he finally saw the disheartening reality of her being a young woman, away from her country with no one to turn to, seeing a man, him, who was essentially using her. Of course, Javier did try to lie to himself that he was not using her and that he was better than that but now he was cornered to face the ugly truth: he was just a terrible person. With no place to share his regrets, Javier, prone to shutting out and bottling everything up, started smoking almost non-stop—dragging in cigarette after cigarette that even Murphy, a much heavier smoker, had to tell him to cut down. Ironically, Javier thought, the only person he would like to share his thoughts with was her.

He would often call up Boston. Found telephone numbers through some friends in intelligence, pulled some strings. He called her when he was in Bogotá and then later when he went after the Cali Cartel, and when he returned back to his homeland, Texas.

She never picked up.

Of course, she didn’t.

Yet every time he anxiously waited on the line, hoping to hear her voice. Anticipating and fearing at the same time because what would he even say? Apologise? Cry? Ask for permission to come to see her?

Usually someone else would pick up the phone and say something like “She’s not in the building”, “She’s at the meeting”, “She’s not available right now but you can leave a message”. A message that she would never respond to. He understood, though, and still left messages, mostly something short and ambiguous.

Tell her to call me back. She knows what this refers to.

The last time, in 1995, he called her Boston number and, again, someone else picked up. A seemingly young man, so obviously nervous to speak on the phone with someone he assumed to be in authority.

“Can I speak to her?”

“Ummm... she doesn’t work here anymore. And ummm... she asked not to tell anyone who calls where she went. I’m sorry, sir.”

“It’s okay. Thank you.”

Two years passed since his last blind phone call. Javier had worked it seems everywhere—he had been to Europe, San Francisco, Hawaii, Mexico, even had a chance to return to Colombia for a while. Always brought the same framed picture with him.

“Who is that sitting behind you?”

“Someone formidable.”

Someone formidable to him.

Five years went by since he had last seen her. The memories of her hurt expression were slowly fading away and he could only remember her smiling happily like she did in the photo. Life continued to flow, yet the regret was still fluttering within like a wounded animal in a restless sleep, and Javier tried his best not to disturb it. He was now back to Houston, invited to head a department at the local DEA office, and he gladly accepted. The last few years were troubled, to say the least, so Javier decided that he needed to settle down for a little bit, to have a normal job full of paperwork and boredom. He figured it would be nice to not have irregular hours and chase bad guys through the mazes of alleyways.

He was impatiently waiting in a hallway to meet the head of human resources; they needed to stamp and approve his employment papers—fucking bureaucracy. However, the last person he expected to see exiting that office was her.

Javier spent hundreds of hours imagining how she would look now but, of course, his scarce imagination could never be a match to reality.

Somehow, she simultaneously changed and stayed the same. Yes, she had shorter hair now, her cheekbones more prominent, her eyes more serious, wiser, stricter. A dark grey jacket resting on her shoulders looked more expensive than anything she used to wear back in Bogotá. But the way she gestured and laughed at something the secretary sitting at the desk outside the office said was so familiar as if five years had not been splitting them apart.

Through a thick fog Javier heard the secretary say his name and that’s when she looked at him.

The moment he was dreading the most. The moment he was waiting the most.

Javier was glad to see the surprised raise of her eyebrows when their eyes met but she quickly composed herself as Javier approached her.

“Hello.”

“Agent Peña,” she extended her hand with a polite smile. He was embarrassingly quick to shake it. Without any hesitation, she gestured to the office.

“Please, come in.”

So she was not leaving this office, that was her office. For the first time in many years Javier felt how his palms were starting to sweat as he followed her inside.

The sunlight was breaking into the room through thick ivory drapes. Her office was rather spacious, with expensive-looking furniture and a patterned rug that, one could only assume, was Persian.

“Sorry for the mess,” she said gesturing at towering piles of papers at her desk and quickly took off her jacket. “A lot of new people have been coming in lately.”

Javier, still fazed, sat down at the dark wooden chair. He couldn’t believe that here she was, the face haunting his dreams for the last five years in between nightmares fuelled by his time fighting Escobar, and she looked more beautiful than ever. His eyes were following her every movement as she settled in her chair and started to rummage through papers.

“The name.”

“Excuse me?”

His throat went unbearably dry.

“The name outside, it says Anna Stevens.”

“Oh right,” she offered a tired smile. “I got here recently from San Francisco, forgot to ask them to change the door plate.”

She wasn’t exactly cold, quite the opposite. Her whole demeanour screamed friendly and polite, but she was certainly detached and Javier was contemplating why. Was she trying to be professional or was she trying to keep her distance from him?.. He rushed head first without a second thought about gross insubordination.

“How- how have you been?”

His voice was hoarse and tears were prickling his eyes but he didn’t care. All he cared about was her.

“I’m okay,” she nodded with a restrained smile. “How have you been?”

Miserable. Dreadful. Tired. Head full of untold regrets.

“I’m okay,” he forced out a similar reluctant smile.

“I'm happy to hear that. So,” she opened one of many standard beige folders piling up next to her. “I see you have been transferred here from Europe, is it right? I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to look properly through your documents.”

“Yeah,” Javier coughed, trying to compose himself. “I worked in Spain for the last four months.”

“Well, I see the embassy filed all of your papers correctly, so all I need to do is stump them and you’re good to go.”

In a swift, almost mechanical motion, she stumped through three pages and signed them. She stood up, Javier followed.

“Here you go,” she handed him the folder over her table and extended her hand with a smile. “Welcome aboard, Agent Peña. Or should I say, Director Peña.”

Holding her hand, even for a second, was so familiar and Javier felt at loss with the lack of her warmth after ending a handshake.

“Congratulations on your new job.”

Javier responded with a forced smile.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll walk you out,” she offered and the two went to the door. Before she could open it, Javier stopped her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Excuse me?”

This was not a good moment, but it was something. And Javier knew he would regret it if he didn’t say what he had to say now.

He just couldn’t bear to have another regret burdening him. Especially not when it comes to her.

“I am sorry, y/n. For everything.”

She shook her head with a weak smile.

“You don’t have to, Agent Peña. Past is past.”

“No, please, let me apologise to you. You are… you are an amazing person and you deserve to get a proper apology.”

Narrowing her eyes, she looked directly at him, and Javier’s heart stung—she looked at him exactly the same way she did five years ago, before she left. It almost pushed him into leaving her office and never bothering her again but… even if Javier was not a good man, he was no coward.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you.”

The room was silent and her eyes were still glued to him, so he took that as an invitation to continue.

“I’m sorry I took you for granted. I’m sorry I used our friendship and your trust. I should've been a better friend, a better person, a better…” He exhaled. “I’m sorry I was a fucking prick five years ago. You deserved so much better… you still do. I don’t expect you to accept my apology, I just want you to know that I truly regret everything.”

Fuck, he could’ve found some better words to say but it was better than nothing.

Moments passed, her hand was resting on the doorknob, fingers ready to turn it. Javier fought the urge to take her hand into his and cradle it to soothe the pain of sorrow kindling inside.

Finally, she took her hand off the doorknob.

“It’s been five years, Javier. Do you really still think about what happened?”

Javier. Hearing her finally say his name broke the ice.

“I do. I have.”

The expression on her face was difficult to interpret—another thing that changed, she was not so easy to read anymore. Javier’s eyes were desperately fixed on hers, in hopes that she’d see and understand that his apology was more profound than his limited words.

“I forgave you, Javier,” she said at last. “A long time ago. Don’t beat yourself up over this. I’m not going to lie, I was hurt. Very hurt. But surprisingly, forgiving you was much easier than I expected.”

Her words took him aback. He was prepared for her anger, for her disdain, for her indifference even, but not forgiveness.

Never forgiveness.

But why would he expect less from someone as kind and thoughtful as her?

Somehow her forgiveness lacerated him more than her resentment.

“You shouldn’t have,” he shook his head. “You should still resent me.”

“I did resent you. For a long time. But at some point you get tired of being angry and resentful and forgiveness comes almost naturally.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Javier repeated.

“Yet I still did,” she shrugged. “But hey, if there’s any consolation, it is still nice to know that you feel sorry.”

Javier chuckled.

“Joking at the expense of my misery?”

“Someone has to.”

A pause—and they both laughed and Javier felt the weight of the world lifting off his shoulders. For once, he didn’t want to overthink anything. She was there, she was laughing, it all that mattered.

“So no hard feelings,” she nodded.

“Yeah… But I still have one apology to deliver.”

“What?” Javier smiled at her confused look. “Sorry for late congratulations on your new job, Director y/n.”

“Oh god…” she snickered. “Thanks, Director Peña.”

A comfortable pause settled between her and Javier as the two wordlessly were coming to terms with everything—his apology, her forgiveness, new jobs, and the fact that maybe, just maybe, they could become close friends again.

“I have other people coming in soon, so…” she finally interrupted the silence.

“Sure, sorry.”

She opened the door.

“It was nice to see you, Agent Peña.”

“Likewise.”

Another handshake, more cordial, almost affectionate.

“See you around.”

Javier walked away, she stayed next to the secretary, asking something in a low voice. Suddenly, he halts.

“Hey, Director y/n.”

She turned to him, her secretary glancing between her and Javier with an intrigued smile, way too interested in the interaction.

“Would you like to get coffee later?”

She smiled—like in the old picture now to be carefully placed on Javier’s desk—genuinely, brightly, with her dimples showing.

“Yeah. Coffee would be nice.”

Taglist (and a very special thank you goes to these cheesecakes❣️)

@o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @rosiefridayrogersunday-reads @buck-this-nasty @pascalesque @sanguineburgundynights @rrtxcmt @xoxo-callie @justdrawings101

#javier peña #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #narcos #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #my fic #pedro pascal

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etheraella · 4 years ago

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The Lost Letter for Love

(Fred Weasley x Reader)

Summary : 10 years of friendship through letters, and being a hopeless romantic didn’t help you realise your feelings for your best friend, until it might be too late.

Warnings : MUGGLE!AU slow-burn, angst, violence if you squint, best friends-to-lovers, a few cursing you probably won’t realise.

Feet shuffling against the living room carpet, you finally let your body slump on the sofa with a sigh. The sound of wrinkling leather waves through the empty corridor of your shared house. You ignored it, knowing that one of your housemates (who also happen to be your best friends) might come huffing into the room for continuously abusing furniture. With the same occasion happening countless number of times that week, you expected them to grow tired of your mood swings.

You reached for the nearest cushion beside you, digging your fingers onto the sides of the rough object, before stuffing your face into it; rage burning in your chest for a peculiar Weasley. You lift your face from the cushion furiously, running your hands through your hair.

"Is it that hard for that git to take time and write to me?" you cursed under your breath.

You heard a scoff before lifting your head and meeting eyes with your friend, Delilah. She was leaning against the archway of the living room. "Go on, explain yourself." she said, walking to the couch beside you -- leaving a gap, knowing you might blow off any minute if bothered. Before you could reply, she shakes her head. "And don't lie to me, you've been acting like a maniac, plotting a murder for a week now."

"She probably is, It's been 3 weeks since she last received a letter from her long-distance boyfriend. Of course she's gone mad." You needn't turn around, knowing it was your other roommate, Sara.

"Fred." you say gripping the sweat-stained pillow and throwing it at her. "Is my best friend," pausing before adding "Nothing more," then leaning against the couch.

You bit your lip in frustration, pulling off a few loose threads from the hem of your sleeves in anger, "Be patient, Y/N," Delilah says, patting your back. "He might be busy with his shop or dealing with.. well, whatever he might be doing," You rolled your eyes, seeing the now sitting Sara looking at you, sympathetically.

"Well, he can do whatever the hell he wants for all I care. No actually--I don't care, they're just letters." You stood up and stormed up to your room. Shutting the door with a click, you hear muffled voices of your two friends, one of them saying "Wasn't she enraged three minutes ago".

You feel your head spinning before pulling out a specific letter from a wooden box and leaning against the desk. The words that were inked on the paper still enliven the butterflies in your stomach, even after you've memorised them. It was the last letter you received from him before his gifts came to an abrupt stop. You felt like a 16 year old teenager feeling giddy over a crush. Your eyes widen -- reminding yourself "NO Y/N, he's just a friend!" Suddenly remembering you weren't supposed to be 'caring', you cringed to yourself before shoving the letter back in the box weighing a heavy heart.

━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━

You let your body fall against the soft mattress with a squeal, staring up the ceiling whilst clutching the new envelope up to your chest. Without realising the rapid rate of your heartbeat, you impatiently tore open the envelope and unfolded its content.

Dearest Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you in the best of spirits.

I deeply apologise for this delayed reply as I have been quite busy with the joke shop here. Formalities aside, I'm going to be making a few business arrangements in your town. George thought I should go instead of him, and I definitely agree with him. I can't wait to see you, and expect me to ring your house phone tomorrow to discuss. Sadly, I'd have to make this letter short, pumpkin.

P.S bring along that beautiful smile of yours when we meet.

Yours lovingly,

Fred G. Weasley

A smile forms across your face as you read his words, your heart doing summersaults. Before you could trace his signature, you hear a knock on your bedroom door. Sighing, you opened the door, seeing an eyebrow raised Delilah and Sara. Seeing your friends just makes you want to squeeze them in a hug of joy. The smile on your lips didn't falter as you tried forming words "I-"

"We know, Y/N." Delilah interrupted. "We guessed the moment you turned all giddy when coming home. You even fell from the entrance stairs! What'd he say?" Sara asked, smirking. You stared at them, the red mark on your ankle feeling suddenly obvious.

"He said he's going to be dealing with a few business things here. I think he's coming in a few days." You say, your smile growing wider as the words escape your lips. Fred and you have met before. Only, it was twice or trice a year from a long-distance decade of friendship.

Your friendship with Fred was a rather complicated story that even to you, seems a little cliche of how it started with a single complication.

A letter,

The letter had somehow mistakenly ended up to your address, knowing that a 'Hermione Granger' doesn't exist in your household. Being the hopeless romantic you are, you thought it was some kind of love letter so you tore open the letter and read it. In the midst of the paragraph, you feel a pang of guilt as the letter has only to do with family matters. You cursed yourself, and felt sorry for the sender and immediately returned the letter to the signed name 'Fred Weasley' with an attached paper for explanation.

A few days after, you received a letter a letter from him, this time with your name as the addressee. Fred apolagised and offered his gratitude for returning his letter, as it was his mistake for writing the wrong address after all.. And that ladies and gents, was the story on how your friendship was formed.

Although the two of you had exchanged numbers on paper, you fancied the idea of continuing to use the old method with letters, as it was a reminder of how the two of you had gotten to know each other. Fred had always been open about his family and business to you. The both of you admitted that you weren't romantically involved with anyone, but decided to leave that topic 2 years ago. Surely, if he was in a relationship, he'd let you know anyway.

The more often you and Fred exchanged letters, the more you felt a tinge of excitement as he expresses his life and thoughts to you, hoping he'd feel the same. Sometimes, you'd spend endless nights rereading a few old letters of his which you cherished in a wooden box, paragraphs memorised.

Fred took you to meet his family on the third year of your friendship, even Hermione who was Fred's future sister-in-law back then was there. Molly Weasley had sent you presents for Christmas since then, which contained her self-made sweaters. You wondered how much Fred mentioned you to the Weasleys.

━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━

Later that week, Fred gave you a call, arranging your meeting for an evening. As soon as you saw the red-head arrive on your front door, you smiled and embraced him in a friendly hug. Fred, who was towering over you, looked the same as he always did; charming, with freckles painted on the bridge of his nose, enough to sway any girl’s feet.

"How's my pumpkin doing?" he grins, with a raised brow. You feel your face heating from the sound of his low-pitched voice calling the nickname he gave you 4 years ago. "I'm doing fine, Freddie." you said, returning his grin. The two of you immediately caught yourselves in a conversation on the journey. Clueless as to where Fred was taking you.

"Are you trying to kidnap me?" you scoffed jokingly, after the fourth time you had asked Fred for the destination while he was continuously refusing. "Pumpkin, I would have ordered someone to bring you to my hotel if I was." he winked, glancing sideways at you, making your cheeks blow bright pink in the shadow of the night. "But then again, I won't be kidnapping if I don't do it myself".

Finally, the two of you arrived at a coffee shop, "Is this the 'surprise', Freddie?" you asked him, getting out of the car.

"Not exactly." he smiles. The smell of baked muffins hit your nostrils as you enter the shop. Fred led you to a seat while you silently followed him, he stopped at a corner table next to a huge window, a girl with long black hair was already occupied.

"Y/N, I'd like to introduce you to Grace, my girlfriend." Fred turns to you with a prideful grin plastered across his face. "Darling, this is my best friend, Y/N." You felt your heart stop. Following his gaze, your eyes landed on the girl appearing to be his girlfriend, smile up at you, showing her pearly white teeth. Quickly pushing your overfilled thoughts away, you shook her hand, the room suddenly became insufferable. You forced a smile as you hesitantly took the seat opposite to them.

"Since, you're my best friend and all, I thought the two of you should meet." Even though he sounded as if it was meant for you, he didn't spare you a single glance. "Yes, Y/N. Seeing how much you meant to him and all." Grace smiled slightly, "I mean.. as friends." Grace added pressing the word 'friends'. You could’ve sworn you saw a sly look in her icy blue eyes, but shook it off, trying your best to act natural, smiling back at her sweetly.

━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━

Every time you glanced at Fred, you felt a stinging pain in your chest; maybe you were just feeling protective over him? But does that include wanting to have him all for yourself, as selfish as it is? It felt wrong with the idea of loving your best friend, but it felt right loving him.

Regretfully, you felt like an idiot for not recognizing your feelings sooner and denying them. The missed opportunities you could have experienced if you had just revealed your true feelings to him whether it was on paper, on phone or even in person. Were you just scared of ruining your friendship?

Sara and Delilah noticed your change in behaviour when Fred’s name pops up in random conversations, until one night you burst into tears and poured your bottled-up feelings onto them. It didn't help matters when you and Fred met, the blue-eyed minkle always tagged along. When Fred wasn't around, she bared her venom-like teeth. "I've seen the way you look at Fred, I'm not stupid."

And from there onwards…

"You're too immature for Freddie."

…you started knowing her more than Fred ever will.

"The two of you have been friends for what? A decade? He's known me a year, guess we all know who he sees as his lover and who as a friend."

That last statement hurt enough for you to have to restrain yourself from slapping the smirk off her face as she said it. You tried your best to act normally in front of Fred, but you knew seeing them together was a pain too unbearable for you to handle, so you declined his hangout calls and started seeing him less and less.

The last thing you wanted was to destroy their relationship by breaking down in front of the person you cared for, and revealing Grace's true colours. Knowing Fred, he'd side with you and break up with Grace, but seeing them together made you realise how happy they were. Fred deserved the happiness Grace brought him. And you’re well aware that the feelings he shared with her were much more in depth than the ones he shared with you, because when he looks at her, his face says it all

A/N : Hi ! This is Luna, SO the ending wasn’t what I had in mind but overall, this story gives me victorian era vibes idk why lmao. OMG all my love goes to Celeste for helping me edit this, please reblog and comment if you like this fic :) We haven’t been active lately due to studying and all, but now we’re back with more fics. + taglist form up soon 🤝

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royallyanxious · 6 years ago

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Secrets in the snow

Logan goes back home and thinks that it’s just a wonderful weather to take Roman out on a walk.

aka: brains and booty in love

Paring: logince

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

AO3 link

The streets were completely white with the soft pieces of cotton falling from the navy blue sky. The snow was crispy under Logan’s feet. As cliche as it was Logan liked winter best. There was something relaxing in the snow lazily covering every inch of the street. Something calm about the white rooftops and trees. Something incredibly peaceful about the warm light coming from the houses he used to pass by every day.

Logan sighed. Even though he could appreciate the aesthetic, he thought that if only his boyfriend would be here, he would immediately point out all the beautiful details that Logan was missing out. Because surely Logan was missing out a lot. He didn’t have the artistic sensitivity that Roman had. And sometimes Logan even envied him these creativity and dream-likeness of his. It took Logan years to learn how to cherish the beauty of small moments while Roman was able to do it absolutely effortlessly. And he deemed it his life-mission to teach that to Logan. But Logan for once in his life was a really terrible student - for most of the time he much more prefered staring at his boyfriend than looking at the view.

He put hands in the pockets of his coat and nozzled the scarf wrapped around his neck. Present from Roman, of course. At the beginning of autumn Roman decided to learn how to knit from Patton and though knitting might not be the greatest of Roman’s talents, Logan still was wearing these terrible scarfs. They were much warmer than any scarf he had ever owned.

Roman and Logan had been in a relationship for over 2 years and yet every time Logan thought of his boyfriend, his heart was turning into a big “pile of mushy goo” as Logan’s brother Patton had called that feeling. Logan didn’t deny that. But how could he not react that way, if he was blessed to have the most magical boyfriend on earth? Roman was everything Logan could have dreamt of! He was caring and kind, smart in his own illogical way (which sometimes drove Logan crazy but he loved it for most of the time) and a little bit adventurous.

It was Roman who learnt Logan the true meaning of the word “beauty” (“Beauty has many forms, Lo. So if you see beauty in those terrible numbers of yours then it’s valid!”). It was Roman who dragged Logan out of his crib. And finally it was Roman who showed Logan what a true love was.

Once again, Logan eyes took in the winter scenery. It was a little bit blurry with the fog covering his glasses but nonetheless - incredible. Sorts of magical even. Just like Roman was. Logan glanced at his watch, shivering ever so slightly when cold air licked his exposed patch of skin. It wasn’t as late as he had expected. With a nod, he sped up his pace a little bit. It was Friday evening and suddenly he felt that it would be very selfish to leave this view to be enjoyed only by him.

Quickly, Logan crossed street after street until he arrived to the flat Roman and him shared. Unable to break the habit, he changed the mailbox and seeing that nothing was there, he started walking up the stairs. If it was possible his glasses were even more foggy now.

He knocked the door twice before pressing the door handle. He sighed when the door opened smoothly.

“Roman, you forgot to lock the door! Again. I could be a murderer!” Logan pointed out as a greeting but he couldn’t wipe out the smile forming in the corners of his lips, when Roman’s head peeked behind the corner.

“Hello to you too, love.” Roman flashed his wonderful bright smile, before pecking Logan’s lips. “Ugh, so cold.” he shuddered.

“Some would say that it’s as cold as my heart.” mumbled Logan, wiping his glasses.

“Some would be very wrong then.” Roman’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you not taking off your coat? Surely, you’re not here to tell me that we’re going to Patton today, right?” asked Roman blushing slightly.

“No, but I was wondering if by any chance you would accompany me on a walk?” Logan coughed out, adjusting his glasses. He was starting to feel hot. “But if you have plans we can postpone that if the weather allows.”

Roman stared at him for a moment, his face expression unreadable. He tilted his head a little bit which was a usual sign of Roman being deep in his thoughts. Finally he clapped his hands, making Logan jump a little bit.

“But of course, I will take a walk with you!” Roman grinned brightly, jolts of joy shining through his chocolate eyes. “A night walk in the snow! How romantic!” he cooed with delight and Logan couldn’t help but smile. Sometimes it was so easy to make Roman happy.

“So, shall we?” he asked offering an arm and mentally cringed at himself. Roman was still in his sweatpants afterall.

“Um, sure. Just… give me a minute or two, dearest.” Roman said, looking away. “You can… hmm, wait outside. It’s hot for you in here. And it’s not only because of me.” he winked and turned around to disappear in their bedroom, leaving Logan alone and blushing.

“Outside the building it is.” he confirmed out loud, just in case.

“Date it is!” laughed Roman from the room,

“We’ve been waiting for over two years!” replied Logan as was leaving the flat with silly smile on his face.

In fact, Roman always made him feel as though they has just started dating. Everything with him was fresh, even if they had done this thousands of times. Logan once again hid his face in the horrendous scarf, trying to hide his obvious blush. He wasn’t a teenager anymore for god’s sake!

When he walked outside he noticed that it was still snowing. He looked up and few snowflakes fell on his glasses. He took them off trying to get rid of unwanted wet smudges. It was all Roman’s influence. Staring up at the sky, enjoying the view… Logan never did such things before he met his boyfriend. He sighed again and put on his glasses.

His gaze traced after a woman walking with a small dog. It was one of these dogs that were so white that they almost disappeared in the snow. Logan smiled as they were passing him by, even though he knew that the woman wouldn’t notice his smile. It was also something he picked up from Roman - smiling without any big reason.

“Just smile, Lo!” echoed in Logan’s head and he smiled even wider.

The woman caught his gaze and smiled delicately at him and even dog seemed to start waving his tail a little bit harder. Embarrassed, Logan turned away his gaze.

“Roman is taking exceptionally lots of time to get ready today.” he thought grumpily.

After few more minutes of waiting Roman had finally came downstairs wrapped in his newly knitted scarf that went terribly with his fashionable coat. He shot Logan an apologising smile.

“Sorry for taking so long, darling.” he added nervously.

Logan dismissed the comment with a barely visible shake of his head. Silently agreeing with each other, they started walking down the street. Normally bursting with life town, this evening it looked like everyone hid in their homes. Maybe it was because of the weather or maybe because they didn’t want to interrupt Logan and Roman.

Soon enough they arrive at the outskirts of the city. If the town looked pretty covered with snow then the scenery here was truly fairy-tale-like.

Simply everything was beautifully decorated with big piles of snow which was almost as bright as moon hanging above. Stars were matching the snow with they way the shined - a little bit shy and a little bit mischievous but above all - welcoming. In this marvelous white carpet some wild animal (red fox (Vulpes vulpes) if Logan was not mistaken) left footprints leading to the forest. The dark colour of the trees was blending with the deep navy sky.

Roman gasped, scanning the surroundings with his big, warm eyes. His cheeks were red from the low temperature. Slowly, small smile started forming on his pink lips and that was enough for Logan to feel like he was burning. Seeing Roman like this was worth all the cold and the wind that had been pinching Logan’s cheeks for a while now. Everything was worth Roman’s happiness.

“Oh, Logan… This is so beautiful…” whispered Roman, unable to tear his gaze away from the view.

“I simply was going back home, saw how nice the town looked and thought…” Logan stopped when he felt Roman leaning to him, his hot breath ticking Logan’s ear.

“And you thought of me.” he finished softly and kissed Logan’s cheek. They stood like that, close to each other for a few minutes, simply enjoying the beauty of the moment.

“It’s really perfect, Logan.” Roman said but this time with a spark in the eyes that Logan missed.

Before his boyfriend could react in any way Roman pushed him right into the deep snow, laughing maniacally. Logan screamed in a high pitched voice at the cold and not wasting any second, he pulled Roman closer, forcing him to step into an especially big snowdrift.

“How dare you-!” gasped Roman with terror. The mischievous spark had grown into a full fire in his eyes. He quickly bend to form a little snowball and smoothy threw it at Logan, laughing.

Soon the couple started running around the snowy meadow, throwing snow at each other and laughing as if they were 5, not near their 30s. Logan’s glasses were completely covered with fog and his gloves soaking wet but he couldn’t care less. It’s been a while since he laughed so hard.

Finally the two of them collapsed at the snow, sitting next to each other. Roman was still giggling with his eyes fixed at Logan.

“That was wonderful!” he breathed out, a cloud of hot air flowing from his mouth.

Logan only nodded in response and adjusted the scarf. Something icy cold touched his hands and he realized that Roman decided to help him by wrapping the scarf tighter around the neck, with a soft look on is face. Not thinking too much Logan leaned and locked their lips in a kiss. Roman hummed happily. At the beginning of their relationship, it was hard for Logan to initiate things like that but quickly he learnt that there was nothing wrong with being affectionate from time to time. As long as no one, except of Roman, was watching.

“I love you, you know specs?” whispered Roman, breaking the kiss.

“Of course that I know. You inform me about that every morning and every evening. At least twice a day.” said Logan calmly.

“And I plan on doing this till the end of our lives…” Roman responded seriously “Speaking of which...” he started quietly, leaning back and frantically looking for something in his pockets.

That’s when Logan with the corner of his eyes, noticed something in the snow. The object was standing out in the snow being the only red thing around, except of Roman’s cheeks. Logan pushed himself and stood up, curiously approaching the object, that soon enough turned to be a small box. He inspected it carefully before grabbing it and turned around to his boyfriend again. Roman was still searching through his pockets, so instead of asking him to come closer, Logan went back to his old spot and sat next to Roman.

“Look what I found.” he said nagging Roman’s side, turning the box in his hands.

When Roman saw what Logan was holding in his hands, he let out the loudest yelp.

“This is just fantastic!” he groaned in addition and snatched the box from Logan’s hands.

“Do you by any chance know what this is, Roman?” asked Logan, clearly curious. His boyfriend had always been the dramatic type but right now he appeared very shaken.

“Of course, I know! How could have I lost it? Oh dear stars!” Roman placed a kiss on the box with a loud smooch.

“Enlighten me, please.” Logan crossed arms on his chest and frowned. “What is this, Roman?” he asked seriously.

Roman blushed furiously, glancing nervously at Logan.

“This is not how it was supposed to look, okay?” he sighed, seeing that Logan wasn’t going to move by inch until he got a satisfying explanation.

That statement confused Logan a little bit. “Oh,” he uttered, “O-okay…”

“To put it bluntly…” started Roman playing with the box but never opening it. “It’s a box with a ring.”

“A ring.” echoes Logan numbly. “What ring?”

“An engagement ring you, idiot.” groaned Roman and threw a little bit of snow at Logan in anticipation. “And I swear to god, if you ask for who is this ring, I’m gonna commit a homicide.”

Logan looked at Roman with his pale blue eyes, hidden behind glasses. He looked a little bit like a lost child and maybe under other circumstances Roman would even tease him about that.

“An engagement ring.” repeated Logan.

“Yes, for you, Logan.” explained Roman painfully slowly and just as delicately. He knew that it may take a while until Logan processes a new information. They sat for a moment in silence just staring at each other until Roman started talking again:

“Do you want me to make it clearer? Shall I stand up, only to fall on my knee in front of you? I didn’t want to make it awkward for you but… Ugh, I’m not at all romantic, am I?” the words were spilling out of his mouth faster and faster, “I am the romantic type and I can’t even plan a romantic engagement. I mean! I had the whole plan! But you offered a walk and I just couldn’t say no! To think that I would-”

“Yes.” said Logan calmly, catching Roman’s hand in the middle of a gesture.

“What?” blurted Roman.

“If you asked, I would say yes.” Logan repeated, but this time his voice was shaking a little bit and it wasn’t because of the cold.

“Even if my proposal included burning a book?” asked Roman suspiciously.

“Let’s not cover the extreme situations right now.” Logan clicked his tongue and waved his free hand. Roman chuckled heavily.

The air between them was getting freckled with white spots. It was snowing again but none of them moved.

“Oh gosh, I really do want to kiss you right now.” said Roman, gently placing a kiss on Logan’s wrist. “But first I want to ask you properly…” he took a big breath in and Logan could feel that his own breath hitched. “Logan Sanders, will you keep the ring you’ve found knowing that it’s not just a simple ring? Knowing that it’s a symbol of my love and declaration that one day I will marry you?”

Even though the answer could be only one, Logan for a moment found himself at the lost of words. He swallowed the lump in his throat and that was when Roman opened the small red box. The ring was beautiful, very simple with two tiny gems - one in the colour of blue and the other one - red. With trembling hands he took the ring out of them box and look at Roman.

“I will gladly keep that ring.” Logan said quietly, his lips spreading in a wide smile.

“Will you put it on your finger?” asked Roman biting his lips. Everything about him seemed red at this exact moment - his lips, his cheeks and even his love.

“I would be I have very wet gloves right now and I really want to…” Logan gulped, “Feel it on my finger when I put it on for the first time.”

Roman nodded and quickly got up from the ground. His face was brighter than the moon and the snow.

“Well then, let’s go home because I really do want to see that.”

Logan smiled and grabbed Roman’s hand.

“Yes, let’s go home.”

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#logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #fluff!#lots of fluff!#last fic of 2018 #Sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #vic writes

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purple-spring · 7 years ago

Text

In here, too.

Post-2x12 extended moment.

Summary: The Jones trailer was a document of their story - of their love, their wounds and their scars. Tonight, they were writing a new chapter.

“Betty’s limbs were imbued with a will of their own, and though she was slowed by the headiness of the moment, she had never felt more sure of herself, or of what she was doing.

He wanted her. Needed her.

And she was going to give it all to him.”

Author’s notes: My first smutty fic, so please be kind! Thank you to the incredible @jandjsalmon and @theatreofexpression for all your help, encouragement and support as I wrote this, and to @aunt-imogene for the gorgeous gif.

Read below the cut, or here on my Ao3.

The Jones trailer was dotted with remnants of their history.

From where she sat, Betty had a clear view of everything. The spot in the living room where he first told her that he loved her. The kitchen counter where he had lifted her roughly, his mouth hot and searching on hers, overcome with passion. The door he creaked open to an ominous crowd of Serpents, who handed him his own jacket. The couch where they had fallen asleep the night they were investigating the Black Hood.

And where they sat now, silently watching TV.

What chapter of our history is this supposed to be? Betty pondered the question as she glanced at him tentatively. They were seated away from each other, their bodies not even touching, yet painfully, the closest they’d been in weeks. Her shoes were off and his beanie was lying flat on the space next to him - small items of clothing discarded casually, as though they were learning to be exposed and unguarded around each other all over again.

The last 24 hours had been a blur. By some twist of fate, they had fallen into the old rhythms of Betty and Jughead, Sleuthing Duo Extraordinaire, all over again. It felt familiar. It felt right.

But there was something else there - something aching and tender that lingered beneath the dynamic energy that came from bouncing ideas off each other and pursuing leads. To Betty’s surprise, Jughead had broached the subject of their relationship and had been open and vulnerable, apologising to her and owning up to so much - his regret over their breakup, his misdemeanours with Toni, his brief time as a drug mule, and his mutilation of Penny Peabody.

He was laying it all out for her, exposing himself willingly after weeks of shutting himself away from her.

And she was overwhelmed.

What does this mean for us? She looked over to him, fought the urge to reach out and touch his face. Is there still an ‘us’ to be salvaged from the wreck?

Jughead turned the television off. “Good old Hiram Lodge,” he muttered. “I wonder what he’s planning for us. On the Southside.”

She contemplated the question silently. “Maybe we can ask Veronica on Monday.” Oh god, Veronica. Betty winced at the thought of her best friend being drawn into this mess. How does she fit into all this? For the most part, she may have been reeling from the suddenness of being thrust back into Jughead’s sphere again, but still, she couldn’t help but wonder about what would become of them - Veronica, Archie, Jughead, herself. Even Josie and Cheryl. The children of Riverdale. The victims of their parents’ histories.

“Yeah.” Jughead sighed. “Maybe we should just investigate quietly, until we know more.”

Betty nodded, acquiescing.

“We haven’t saved the trailer park yet. And I’m on probation from the Serpents, whatever that means. Because of what I did to Penny.”

What I did to Penny. The thought of it still unsettled her. He hadn’t gone into detail, but Betty knew him enough not to feel angry or incensed - instead, she could only feel unbearable sadness at the desperation he must have been driven to, to feel as though he had no other option than to do what he did.

“But we stopped her from coming back,” Jughead conceded. “ And we got rid of Tall Boy.”

“ We. ” She couldn’t help it. Her face broke out into an involuntary smile. “It’s just nice to hear that again.” And it was. After the many lonely nights that followed their breakup, the dark days of the Black Hood, the emotional rollercoaster of finding her brother and being led into the sordid, clandestine world he inhabited, sitting here with Jughead felt… good. Stable.

He turned to her. “ Look, I’ll be apologising for it for the rest of my life, but I’m sorry. I am.” Betty looked up at him, and saw that his eyes were filled with remorse. “For feeling like I needed to shield you from what I was going through with the Serpents, or… my darkness.” He scoffed at that last word, seeming to cringe at the cliche, but finding nothing better to describe the bleakness of his world without her.

“I can handle it.” And I want to, she added silently.

“I know,” he responded, as if reading her thoughts. “I know you can.”

Betty exhaled. The weight of his words stirred something in her, and suddenly the door she had worked so hard to close since their breakup flew wide open, inviting her to walk through again. And though every part of her longed to do just that, she felt tentative and scared. There was still so much that she needed to tell him. So much that she feared to divulge.

She sighed, her yearning overcome by common sense. “I should probably…” she broke off. You should stay. You should stay. You should stay. “…start heading home.”

The fragile bubble of their moment deflated. But what else was she supposed to do? This had to be enough for her, for now - the simple hope that they weren’t done yet. She needed to leave on that note, because she wanted to fall asleep tonight with that hope tucked away into her heart.

“Or you could stay,” he said, in a half-whisper.

Oh.

Betty stared straight ahead, alarmed by the sudden turn of events and afraid that if she so much as breathed in his direction, she’d betray just how desperately she needed to hear him say that - a direct reversal of their ill-fated conversation in front of the Whyte Wyrm, when he told her to go home. This was anything but that. He was inviting her into his home, into himself. No more pushing each other away.

I guess it didn’t stick, after all.

She exhaled slowly, releasing a breath that had been constricting her chest. She still couldn’t bear to look at him, not now when every part of her - body, heart, mind and soul - was clicking into place as it pointed her to one inevitable conclusion.

“Stay,” he repeated.

His fingers grazed the edge of her dress, a wordless request for her consent. His eyes were fixed on her, all but begging. His mouth hung open, parted as it lingered on the remnants of that single word. Stay.

Betty’s limbs were imbued with a will of their own, and though she was slowed by the headiness of the moment, she had never felt more sure of herself, or of what she was doing.

He wanted her. Needed her.

And she was going to give it all to him.

…

Betty’s heart was clamorous in her chest as their lips met for the first time in what felt like an eternity. She felt curious rather than shocked at the sight of herself climbing up to straddle his lap and pin him against the couch. How did her body even know how to do such things? Then she remembered who she was kissing, remembered that his touch incinerated her unlike anything or anyone she had ever known, and she knew that the answer to that question was tied up entirely in him.

This is your doing, Jughead Jones. This is –

A sharp, metallic sound interrupted her thoughts, and suddenly she was aware of goosebumps raising on the bare flesh on her back as it met the cold air. He had unzipped her dress, and his hands now frantically, expertly grasped the hems, sliding them forward, away from her body.

If there had been any question about where this was going, they were swiftly answered in that one motion. She was now partially naked, her dress bunched around her waist, her silken lavender bra exposed. Hungrily, Jughead continued to kiss her, but his mouth now wandered downwards and away from her mouth, to her neck, her chest, the top of her breasts, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, every coherent thought undone. Underneath her, his desire was making itself evident as she felt his length harden against her, right where she was already growing wetter by the second. On instinct, her hips pressed forward, wanting this, wanting him with a primal, possessive fierceness. He bucked up in response, and she felt a jolt of pure, white-hot pleasure shooting through her body.

“W-wait, wait, wait…” she managed to breathe out. He barely let up, his lips now making quick work of her collarbone. “I need to tell you something.”

If Jughead heard her, it would’ve been entirely accidental. He was completely focused on her, and she remembered now how he always had a thing for kissing her neck, for nipping his teeth at her pulse point in a way that always elicited a breathy moan (which she always had to bite back whenever they were making out on her bed, afraid of the thin walls and of Alice Cooper’s wrath). She knew that if she didn’t physically pull away, he wouldn’t have paid her any heed.

“What?” he panted. “What is it?”

S he felt her body screaming at her, protesting now as Jughead’s lips left her skin. Yes, Betty, it huffed at her. What IS it?

She looked down at him - his head slightly tilted, questioning, his eyes soft and vulnerable but darkened by lust, his face flushed by the heat from its contact with her skin. She had stopped them with the intention of telling him the truth - which truth, she could barely say herself. There were… a few, to put it mildly.

But they were immediately overwhelmed and overtaken by the one truth that mattered most in that moment.

That she loved him. That she never stopped. Couldn’t stop.

And that this - this swirling storm of passion and lust that churned between them, even now as they were parted - was long overdue.

She decided to tell him that truth.

“Nothing,” she whispered in response to his question. Her fingers grazed his bare chest, longing to undo his shirt. “I just… want you. I want all of you. Tonight.”

All of him. Every last inch. Every shade of light and dark. Everything.

If Jughead was impassioned before, her words clearly switched on another gear. She watched him, with a faint sense of pride and smug pleasure, as his eyes grazed greedily over her breasts, evidently seconds away from ravishing them with his mouth.

No, she thought, as she gently tilted his chin up and pulled him in for a searing kiss. Not yet.

Betty needed him in slow motion, at least for now. Needed to savour each second of this encounter. To store up every last frame of it in her memory.

Jughead instinctively picked up on the hint and circled his arms around her bare waist, leaning into the kiss, gentler than before. She sighed into his mouth, their tongues tangling together as they sought a softer intimacy.

How long they spent there, suspended in the leisurely heat of their kiss, Betty had no idea. But as she felt his fingers inching their way up again to the clasp of her bra, she quickly decided that she’d had enough of being the only one naked on the couch. She broke away from their kiss and swiftly pulled him up by his suspenders, which she promptly slid off his shoulders.

Betty saw surprise register on his face at the abrupt change in pace before leaning forward to kiss him again, this time with her hands busy at his shirt. Her fingers sought flesh, and was rewarded when Jughead reached down and unbuttoned the shirt himself. Mirroring his early movements, she gripped the hems and half-tore the garment off his body, freeing his skin so that it was hers to explore. This time, it was her turn to gawk at him - the sinewy muscles of his frame, the slight shadows made by the ripples on his torso.

She had barely finished sweeping her eyes over the expanse of his skin when he pressed his mouth to her left shoulder, the lacy strap of her bra falling off as it gave way to his persistent need to taste her. Leaving a trail of hot breath in their wake, his lips caressed the downward slope of her right breast, and she tilted her head back, closing her eyes in ecstasy as she bit back a cry.

Jughead noticed that and pulled her closer to him, pressing his mouth against her ear. “You’re here with me, Betty, not in your room,” he murmured against her earlobe. “Let me hear you. Please.”

She was so caught up in the urgency of that whisper that she was stunned when her bra suddenly came loose, his clever fingers having worked the clasp, her breasts now freed and exposed to his hungry stare. As he bent down and took one peaked nipple into his mouth, the moans she had worked so hard to stop in her throat pierced the air of the empty trailer, fast and breathless.

“Yeah, Betts, that’s it,” he said, murmuring against her skin. She rocked on top of him, her pussy wet and in desperate need of friction. He was right there with her, thrusting his hardness up against her, and she thought - in between the ministrations of his mouth and the wandering of his hands - that if they kept this up any longer, she’d probably end up reeling over the edge of an orgasm before she even knew it.

Jughead broke away and looked up at her, their eyes level. “Turn around,” he said, his voice low but assertive, no trace of softness or vulnerability evident.

Betty arched an eyebrow at him as she stood up, discarding her dress on the couch, her body completely naked, save for her lacy lavender briefs.

“Wait,” he said, interrupting her as she began to turn. “Can you…? Just stand there for me.”

Betty obeyed him tentatively. They had done some fooling around prior to their break-up, but she had never been this nude in front of him before. His eyebrows were knitted together, his brow furrowed as he looked her over. Betty grew nervous as his silence extended.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” he said, his voice ragged, reverent. “You’re just… you’re breathtaking, Betty.”

His words reduced her to a hot, wanton mess. He inched forward in his seat and drew her closer, planting a flutter of a kiss on her abdomen while his hands grazed the back of her thighs. He reached up to cup her ass, then hooked his fingers underneath the flimsy material of her underwear, dragging it down slowly over her lithe, shapely legs.

Her heart was hammering in her ribs as his hands gripped her hips and swivelled her around before pulling her naked form down onto his lap, with the two of them facing in the same direction. Immediately, Betty saw why he wanted her positioned this way: his hands reached around, firmly groping her full, pert breasts.

Jughead’s hands had wandered before, and she had actively encouraged him, but those incursions upon her body were nothing like this: forward, dominant and sure. Perhaps the darkening days of Riverdale were propelling this need: if tomorrow can’t be promised, if death and danger were right around the corner, then…

“ Fuck, Betts.” He swore as she reached behind her to stroke his cock. Sitting up slightly, he pressed his mouth up against her jaw, whispering and groaning her name, loosening forth a stream of words incoherent, sweet and filthy all at once. In rare moments of lucidity, she watched her body in fascination as it squirmed and contorted in response to him, her legs spreading wide open, begging for him to touch her. When his fingers finally found her throbbing entrance, her back arched right off him, she let out an obscene moan, and he threw an arm around her to hold her down against his body.

“Stay with me,” he commanded. Her breath was coming out in wild spurts now as he traced circles on her clit. It took all of her restraint not to bear down and have the whole thing over quickly. She was frantic for release, but she needed more than that tonight; she needed intimacy.

Jughead slipped a finger into her, slowly at first, gauging her reaction. “Keep going,” she pleaded, and with one slick movement he buried it in. Her cries were pure and primal as he pumped it in and out of her, his voice still raspy in her ear, his other hand working her breast as she writhed in ecstasy.

The tightness that was winding up in her abdomen was now building up to an eruption. Betty recognised the onslaught, and reached up to grab a firm hold of Jughead’s hair - not enough to pull, but certainly enough to be felt. “I’m… I’m nearly…”

“Let me feel it, Betts,” he muttered into her ear as he nipped on her earlobe and pressed down on her clit. “Every bit of it.”

She clamped her pelvis down into his hand, shamelessly fucking his finger. “Jug. I’m, oh god , I–”

Explosions of white behind her eyes. Her mouth forming a silent, salacious scream. Every muscle taut with pleasure as she rode wave after wave. Then, just as she thought it had died down, the aftershocks of her orgasm shuddered through her body like small tremors.

It could’ve been seconds or hours later - she wasn’t sure. Time suddenly felt fluid, irrelevant. Her body lay limp in Jughead’s arms as he kissed her neck, which was now covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

“Jug… please. In me.” Her breath hitched and she was on the verge of incoherence as the last quivers of their encounter shook out of her.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder before looking around the living room. “Here? You don’t want to move to the bed?”

If he had asked her the same question on that night when he unceremoniously slammed her against the kitchen cabinets, she would have undoubtedly said yes. After all, his bed was the trailer’s closest approximation to how she’d pictured their first time in her mind: a small, quaint cottage in the middle of nowhere, a four-poster bed covered in damask curtains, roses on the sheets, candles on the floor.

But she had tended to his wounds on this couch. Fallen asleep in it while enveloped in his arms. Sat upon it with him through happiness and tension and peace and instability.

It was perfect.

“No,” she whispered, as she turned around. “I want this. I want you. Right here.”

Jughead didn’t need to be told twice, as he undid his belt and pushed down his trousers, his hard length springing forth. Betty straddled him again and immediately started kissing him, her wetness slick on his cock. In between kisses, he managed to ask her, ��Are you still…? Do I need to…?”

“I’m on the pill, yeah,” she murmured.

He leaned back and looked at her. “If you want… I can still get a condom, Betty. It’s no big deal.”

“No, no,” she protested, before fixing her stare on him. “I said I wanted all of you, Jug. I… I want to feel you, too.”

Jughead could only nod dumbly, much too overcome for speech. He wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a soft, sweet kiss. They locked eyes, and she nodded in assent. Yes. Now.

Betty sat up off his lap and lowered herself gently, gingerly, onto him. She hissed through her teeth as she felt her walls expand suddenly upon his entrance, a sharp pang of pain shooting through her body. Jughead groaned as he was buried to the hilt, but kept his eyes on her. As she winced, he grabbed her hands, gently prying her fingers open before kissing her palms, right where her scars were.

Betty was suddenly less alert to the pain and more conscious of the significance of that gesture. How was it that the person who had shattered her world just moments earlier was now being so gentle, so tender? She looked down at him before tucking her hair behind her ear, and bending down to kiss his shoulder - the very same one that Toni had tattooed with the symbol of his loyalty to the South.

When she said she wanted all of him, she meant it.

Every mistake. Every misdemeanour. Every dark and hidden corner.

Jughead began to thrust up into her, and though some remnant of pain lingered behind, she began to sense how this might feel good, how she might want to try it again, and soon. He leaned back on the couch, taking her forward with him, and the new angle sent sparks of pleasures through her. Slowly, they began to build a rhythm - thrust, grind, up, down.

She clenched down on him, experimenting with the sensation, wanting to see what he liked, what made him feel good. At times, he stopped their rhythm in order to press her down onto him, lapping up her tits, ravishing them again with his mouth. As he built up pressure, his speed increasing, she sensed it; he was nearing the brink, and he was ready for freefall.

She pushed up against him, grinding, bucking up her hips with wild abandon, the pain now a distant memory. He groaned his appreciation, all words lost in incoherent bliss, only sensation remaining. Tight. Wet. Euphoria. Faster, she rode him, every part of her thrumming and throbbing and present in the moment.

“Betts, I’m–”

“Yes, Jug,” She closed her eyes. “Yes.”

“I’m about to –”

His body tensed. Their voices mingled as they said each other’s names in tandem - her voice a whisper; his, a muted shout. Seconds of stunned silence followed as he wordlessly buried his head in her neck before breaking out into a deeper, more guttural groan. Betty held on to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as his warm release filled her. A final moan escaped his lips before he collapsed back into the couch.

A small laugh escaped her lips.

Holy.

Shit.

…

Later on, after they were both cleaned up and somewhat dressed, they did end up on his bed, only because she was cold and the couch was too narrow for them to lie on. His arm was slung lazily over her bare stomach, their legs entangled, their silence a comfort.

“I need to go home soon,” she finally said, her tone regretful as she stared at all the missed calls on her phone.

Jughead drew her closer. “You’re home here.”

Betty smiled and turned so that she was facing him. “I know. I am.”

She kissed him before she sat up and got off the bed, the soreness in her legs a pleasant reminder of their encounter. He groaned as she stood up, loathe to part with her. As she slipped her dress back on, combing her fingers through her hair, he fixed his eyes on her, unrelenting.

“You feel okay?” he asked.

“I’ve never been better, Juggie.”

“Good,” he said. “Do you want a ride home or something?”

“No, I’ve got the car,” she replied, somewhat reluctantly, the temptation to feel him between her legs again sorely inviting. “Thank you, though.”

They both fell quiet.

Three unsaid words hung in the air between them. It had been a while since either of them had verbalised it. If she really thought about it, Betty supposed that it might be nice to hear themselves say it. Complete the circle, as it were.

But the night had made that redundant, at least for now. And there were many nights ahead of them. Many days in which they could let it be said, whether whispered against a pillow or uttered in conversation or screamed at the height of pleasure.

Betty looked around Jughead’s room. She thought of the trailer, how it framed and reflected their story, and what her presence in his room now said about the next sequence in their narrative.

The Underwood typewriter she had given him sat proudly on his desk. His small library of books was piled high on the floor. His Serpent jacket was draped over a chair. His bedsheets of dark plaid were soft and inviting.

All of a sudden, she knew the three words that she wanted to and could say, right here and right now. They came out of pure desire, but also out of the promise that the chapters of their history had not shuddered to a halt; that they were being written again.

“In here, too,” she half-whispered to herself.

Jughead smiled, not quite catching it. “What was that?”

“In here, too,” she repeated more clearly. “It’ll happen again, and it’ll happen in here. You and me. We’ll make this ours.”

“‘Ours’,” he exhaled. “I like that.”

She stooped down to kiss him one more time. Quietly, she made it a vow. Imbued it with her love, her desire, her passion for him. Whispered into it the memory of tonight. Made it a wish for an infinite amount of tomorrows.

“Yeah,” she said, her laughter on his lips. “Ours.”

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead smut #paperlesscrown writes

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bornoffside · 7 years ago

Text

Waiting Game (pt.2) - Neymar Jr

Alright, it took a while but it’s done...and it’s super long again, I’m hopeless! Not sure how I feel about it, but eh! @youcancallmeaphrodite, I hope you like it :)

It had been a long time since he had slept so well.

Not because of the old cliched ‘I can only sleep if you’re close to me’ scenario, instead it was the fact that Gisele had an amazing mattress. If anything, knowing that she was still pressed up against him and fast asleep did the opposite of calming his nerves. He was hyperaware of the fact that her bare leg was thrown across his hips, and he could have sworn she was wearing shorts or at least something other than lace panties when he held her the previous night. Not that he was complaining.

There was too much to think about in his current situation instead of worrying about her choice of sleepwear. Like the fact that her face was buried in the crook of his neck, her lips unknowingly resting against his Tudo Passa tattoo. It was funny really, that was likely a phrase she needed to hear herself, and he intended to be the one to get her through this.

Whatever it takes.

Now he sounded dramatic, even to himself. But this was an opportunity he wasn’t sure he would ever get, and he wasn’t letting it slip through his fingers. Not this time.

Another thing to think about was the fact that her covers had shifted a little too far down, and his hand was cupping the smooth thigh that pinned his hips in place. God, a single thigh was doing things to his body that he hoped she wouldn’t notice when she woke up.

He told himself to move it, but it just wouldn’t budge. He never thought he’d be in this position. Not just physically, but he never thought he would get the opportunity to be anything more than the ‘playboy’ she saw him as. If she woke up in that moment and realised that she didn’t want him anywhere near her, or she decided to ignore the moment of vulnerability that he had tried to help her through…he didn’t know what he’d do.

It would be cruel to give him hope, and then snatch it away as soon as she was thinking clearly. But if this was the only time he’d be able to hold her like this, then there was no way that he was moving that hand, even if he could hear his heart beating in his ears.

No, wait.

That wasn’t his heart. It was the front door. Neymar prayed that whoever it was just decided to leave without knocking again, the last thing he wanted was Gisele waking up before he thought of what he would say to her once she did. His prayers went unanswered, and a slither of panic shot through him when the heard the front door swing open.

Oh boy…he hoped that Gisele hadn’t given a spare key to Alexandre. But he wouldn’t deny that the thought of Alex seeing his ex-girlfriend wrapped around him in little more than just a Brazil NT jersey was the big ‘fuck you’ he deserved.

Instead the person that swung Gisele’s door open was someone Neymar never wanted to see him in this sort of position, and he was suddenly beyond grateful for the thigh that was hiding his erection from the wide eyes of Nadine’s big brother…and Neymar’s captain.

Thiago’s hand was still gripping the door handle, but he stood as still as a statue. His dark eyes flickered between Neymar and his little sister - who was sprawled out across him in a position he never wanted to see his little sister in. Thiago’s brows furrowed in confusion as soon as he processed just what he was seeing, and the glare he shot Neymar was clearly asking for some sort of explanation. Instead, Neymar simply raised a finger to his lips in a shushing notion that had Thiago cocking a brow at the audacity.

Thiago jerked a thumb over his shoulder, and Neymar knew that he’d have hell to pay if he didn’t follow the silent order. His head flopped back down onto the soft pillow as soon as Thiago left the room, and he sighed in defeat.

Gisele must have been a very heavy sleeper, because she barely even flinched when he gently slid out from underneath her. Despite this, he tried his best to tiptoe out of the room without a sound.

He didn’t notice the soft smile his efforts had earned him.

Perhaps she should have told him that she was awake, but that would mean having to move and she was oddly comfortable. In addition to that, she was also completely embarrassed. Gisele couldn’t even imagine how much of a burden she had been for him last night. Consoling her was probably the last thing he wanted to be doing, but she couldn’t express how grateful she was to have him there.

But Gisele was more than happy to let him deal with Thiago on his own for now, her brother was never overbearing when it came to her decisions. He trusted her to make the right ones for herself, she wasn’t an idiot. It wasn’t like anything happened between them anyway.

Neymar would be just fine, she told herself.

“You want to explain to me what the hell I just saw?”

Neymar cringed at the hard tone Thiago was using.

“I know what it looks like but-“

“She has a boyfriend, Neymar! You can’t just go around slee-“

“He cheated on her.”

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Thiago’s voice rose with his temper, and Neymar was quick to harshly shush him again.

Thiago grit his teeth. “Stop shushing me, and tell me what’s going on.”

“Okay, alright.” Neymar raised his hands in surrender, and small amused smile playing at his lips. Thiago wasn’t someone who got truly angry very often, so it was a little strange to see it.

“Last night when I left your house, I found her walking along the street. She was a mess, man…she found out that Alex cheated on her and I didn’t want to leave her alone so I brought her home.”

“I’ll kill him.” Thiago was seething on the inside as he paced her kitchen like a wild animal. To not only hurt his sister like that, but make her walk home at that time of night…it was asking for trouble and he’d be sure to let Alexandre know exactly what he thought of him the next time he saw him.

Neymar snorted. “Not if Paulina and Coco get to him first. He’s a dead man.”

“Is she okay?”

“Of course she’s not okay.” Neymar looked at him as if he had asked the dumbest thing in the world.

“No, I mean…should I call Isabele and tell her to-“

“No.” Neymar hadn’t intended to snap at him, and even Thiago looked startled at his tone. “I mean, she doesn’t have to. She has work…I’ll stay with her.”

The silence stretched on for a little while as Thiago assessed his teammate. Neymar was showing no signs of backing down, going so far as to stubbornly cross his arms and stare at him defiantly.

“Are you forgetting that we have training in 45 minutes?”

Neymar’s eyes shot over to the clock on Gisele’s microwave. He completely forgot about training after all that had happened the previous night. Thiago was right, they did have training in 45 minutes…but he was hardly prepared for it, both mentally and physically.

“Wait, then why are you here?”

“Oh!” Thiago quickly reached into his back pocket. “Gisele left her phone at my place last night. But don’t change the subject.” He looked at Neymar sternly.

Neymar rolled his eyes as if Thiago was making a big deal out of nothing. “I’m not going to training today.”

“Excuse me? Uh, yes you are.” Thiago scoffed. Like hell was he going to just let one of his teammates skip training because he didn’t feel like going. He was captain for a reason.

Neymar cocked a brow. “Look, I’ll talk to the boss and tell him it’s a family emergency if I have to. I just don’t think she should be alone right now.”

Thiago just didn’t understand why Neymar cared so much. It’s not like she’s his sister, he thought. But he also knew his sister better than anyone, and he knew that the last thing she would want is another person there when she probably only wanted to be alone. Oh well, it was Neymar’s funeral. He could deal with her temper himself.

“Fine, do what you want.” He held his hands up in surrender. “Just make sure you’re there tomorrow. I’ll come by to see her tonight.”

With that said, Thiago showed himself out.

Gisele had stepped out of her bedroom soon after Thiago had left, and they had chatted for a while. It was nice, being able to talk to her without the snark or disapproving looks she used to send him. But one of the best things about Gisele was that she liked to joke.

She knew how to make people laugh, and she was witty with her responses. Being able to put everything aside and just enjoy his time with her was something he couldn’t have been more grateful for.

They hadn’t discussed the elephant in the room just yet, even though Gisele had sheepishly apologised to him for ‘being a total mess and dragging him into her problems’ as she had put it. But there was no mention of Alexandre…but now they had to talk about him.

Gisele had gone out to get them some lunch, they were both in the mood for Mexican, and Neymar was sprawled out on her couch tapping away at his phone when the front door finally swung open.

“I’m back!”

Neymar quickly sat up from the couch, turn his screen off and chucking his phone on the cushions beside him.

Gisele smiled gratefully when he took the heavy bag of drinks from her, and they made their way to the kitchen. Neymar knew he should tell her as soon as possible, despite not wanting to ruin her seemingly good mood.

“Okay, so I ended up getting Italian-“

“Gisele…”

“-I know, I know! I wanted Mexican too, but the guy ran out of tortillas-“

“Gisele.”

“-I know! I was thinking the same thing! What kind of Mexican restaurant runs out of tortillas?”

“Gisele!” She almost flinched, and he felt bad for raising his voice when she looked at him with those startled big brown eyes.

“Huh?”

“Uh, Alex came by…” Neymar scratched at the back of his neck nervously, watching as her shoulders slumped at the revelation.

“Oh.” Her voice was quiet, and she continued bustling around the kitchen in search of cutlery and cups. He knew she was trying to keep her mind off of the conversation as much as she could. “What did he want?”

She sounded nonchalant, but there was a tension in her voice that he thought sounded like she either wanted to scream or cry…

Neymar frowned when he heard a short knock at the door. He knew Gisele had taken her keys with her so he didn’t know who it could be. Needless to say, he was not a happy man when he answered the door.

“You.” Neymar’s lip curled in a mix of anger and disgust.

Alex sighed in defeat. He didn’t even bother feeling surprised when Neymar answered the door, and he knew the Brazilian hated him with every fibre of his being…for multiple reasons now. Even if Gisele was too blind to see it, Alex hadn’t been. He could see the love in Neymar’s eyes whenever he looked at his girlfr- ex-girlfriend.

“Neymar…hi.”

He didn’t even bother returning the quiet greeting, instead the Brazilian crossed his arms defensively and maintained the steady glare he was shooting Alex’s way.

“You finally told her, huh?”

“N-Not exactly…” Alex avoided his gaze, a look of regret crossing his features.

Neymar cocked a brow at his shaky response. “How did she find out then?”

“It’s a long story.” Alex shook his head, brows furrowing because he knew he was getting off topic. “Look, I know what I did was wrong-“

“If you’re going to try to appeal to me of all people, then you’re dumber than I thought.”

Alex scoffed at the insult. “That’s not what I’m trying to do. I think we both know I’ve ruined my chances with her completely.”

“You sound upset about that.”

“I am upset about it.” The Frenchman snapped. He knew Neymar was probably over the moon at the news. But he really did love Gisele, and this was not as easy for him as Neymar thought it was.

“You didn’t seem too worried about it when I saw you at the club last month with your new girl.”

Alex was shaking his head before Neymar had even finished talking. “That wasn’t what you think it was.”

It was true, he had been with her a month ago. It was one of the reasons Neymar glared at him every time he so much as approached Gisele after that. Soon, Alex had completely avoided going to any parties that Neymar would be at too. Neymar always tried to drop little hints for Gisele but he had never outright told her about the disruption to their seemingly happy relationship.

The Frenchman ran a hand across his short hair. “Lucille is my best friend, she left Paris years ago but…it had been so long. We just connected and I didn’t mean for anything to happen, it was never-“ He cut himself off when he realise he was ranting.

He sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day. “I just want to apologise to Gisele. I mean, I’m not going to lie, I want her back…I love her. But I made a mistake, and if she never wants to see me again…” It hurt him to even think about, but that was his reality. A very likely outcome, considering Gisele vowed to never give a cheater a second chance.

“You knew?” Gisele looked at him with a trace of betrayal on her face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She could see the regret on his face.

“Would you have believed me?”

She didn’t know what to say to that. Would she have believed him? Probably not. Alex was almost perfect, until he wasn’t…and Neymar was Neymar. No, she wouldn’t have believed him.

“I wanted to tell you…I was going to, but I didn’t want you to hate me anymore than you already did.”

Her brows furrowed sadly as she looked up him, only to find him staring down at the ground. Did he really think that? Had she treated him so poorly that he thought she hated him?

“Neymar…I know I wasn’t very nice to you, and I’m sorry that I made you think that. But I have never hated you. I will never hate you, okay?”

He nodded slowly in acceptance, happy to hear the words but not wanting to think too much of it. It’s wasn’t like she had just professed her love for him. Besides, he had left out the most important part of Alexandre’s visit.

“He said…he said he wants you back.” Neymar held his breath, knowing this could go either way.

“Well that’s too bad for him.” She didn’t even bother trying to hide the bite in her words.

Gisele couldn’t care less what Alexandre wanted, he didn’t get to just show up at her house unannounced because he ‘wanted her back’. What kind of asshole thought that cheating was something that could be forgiven?

“You’re not even going to consider it?”

She cocked a disbelieving brow at Neymar’s words, but she had mistaken his intentions. He wasn’t trying to make it sound like Alex deserved another chance, he was just relieved that Gisele wasn’t giving him one.

“I mean, I’m glad you’re not…I just-“

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” She waved him off, knowing he meant no harm.

“So, uh, how are you feeling?” He almost cringed at the question but she didn’t seem to bothered by it and merely shrugged.

“I don’t know. I just, I don’t know…I feel like I should be a mess right now, but I’m okay for now. Maybe it’ll hit me later.”

“Well then, I guess we’ll just have to keep your mind off of it.” He shot her a smile, despite the curious way she was eyeing him.

“So, show or movie?”

She hummed, taking a moment to think about it.

“FIFA.”

He grinned at her response before shaking his head with an overly dramatic sigh. “A girl after my own heart.”

She chuckled as she made her way to the couch, and he followed with a smile on his face, recalling the final thing Alexandre had asked of him.

“Neymar?”

The man in question paused before he could swing the door shut, looking at Alex with raised brows.

“Just…take care of her, yes?”

For the first time since he had greeted him, Alex saw the footballer’s features soften.

He nodded confidently. “Always.”

After the day they spent watching TV and playing FIFA, Neymar had been a regular at Gisele’s house. She would visit him too, but after training he’d usually end up at her apartment, eating food and watching what felt like every show ever made - she really did love TV. But he didn’t mind, they had become friends very quickly, and Gisele would call him everyday to ask if he wanted to do something.

The more time they spent together, the more things started to change…

He noticed little things at first. The way she stood closer to him, leaned on him when they were curled up on the couch watching movies, the way her eyes would search for him whenever they went out with friends. They were things she had never done before, things she had avoided doing more often than not. But somewhere in the months after her break-up with Alex, their own relationship had shifted. Granted, Neymar knew how he felt and he had felt that way for a long time…but even if she didn’t notice it yet, she was slowly changing the way she behaved around him.

There was a newfound comfort that came with his presence, a strange sort of bond she had attached to him ever since that night a few months ago, when everything changed. No one really knew what to think of it at first, especially Thiago, who still looked like a confused puppy whenever he saw his sister willingly spending time with Neymar. There used to be a time when they would go out and she would groan in annoyance as soon as she realised that Neymar was also there. Now she barely went anywhere unless he was going too. It was weird, but Thiago didn’t even bother trying to wrap his head around it.

It was one of those nights out that had really changed their relationship.

They had gone out with a few of the boys from the team, and while the night had started off well in Neymar’s opinion, it took an interesting turn…

Gisele rolled her eyes at the slender woman who was seductively dancing a few feet away with a suggestive smile on her face. She only had eyes for Neymar, but the Brazilian only had eyes for the grumpy woman sitting beside him in the VIP area. There was a barely noticeable smirk on his face as he watched Gisele pin the dancer with a disapproving glare that could send the toughest of men to their grave. Oh he had been on the receiving end of that look many times.

Earlier in the night, when Neymar went up to the bar to get them both a drink, the woman (Julia? Juliette?…whatever) had approached him as if it was the perfect moment she had been waiting all night for. In a way it was, but he didn’t care much for it. Sure, she was a beautiful woman…but she wasn’t his beautiful woman.

Neither was Gisele at the moment, but he was working on it.

He wasn’t surprised that Juliette had taken to dancing right in front of the VIP area, her eyes locked on his form for so long that he actually wondered if she was in some kind of trance. What did surprise him was Gisele’s reaction to the woman vying for his attention. His butt hadn’t even made it to the couch before she had already growled out an ‘I don’t like her’.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” He shook his head with a small smirk tugging at his lips.

She cocked a brow. “You have that look on your face.” 

“What look?”

“The one you get when you know something I don’t know.” 

“I have a look for that?” He laughed in surprise. 

“Yes, it’s very annoying.” She stated matter-of-factly, but the small smile on her face reassured him that she wasn’t being too serious. “Come on, pleeeaase?” she all but whined, lightly tugging at his arm.

He laughed again, eyes flickering over her face for a moment, while he tried to figure out what to say. Gisele bit her lip lightly, trying not to smile at the strange feeling in her chest that came with his smiling face.

It was amusing and somewhat flattering. Neymar doubted that Gisele even knew what she was doing, but it gave him a spark of hope. There was always a reason behind jealousy, he knew that better than most. He had been feeling it for years whenever he saw her with someone who wasn’t himself. So when she started showing the signs that he knew so well, he could hardly believe it.

Things were changing, and he needed her to realise it.

Before he got the chance to comment, Juliette laughed obnoxiously loud, drawing attention to herself once more. Gisele scowled at the sight. The woman was flirting with some poor man who was clearly interested, but the way Juliette’s eyes flickered to see if Neymar was watching the interaction showed that she clearly wasn’t.

“What’s wrong?”

Gisele finally tore her glare away from Juliette and looked at him with a small shrug.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just don’t like her.”

How many times had she seen some over-confident woman try to sneak her way into Neymar’s bed? Too many. Surprisingly, he hadn’t accepted any of them over the past few months.

The past few months. Even she was surprised at that fact. Either he didn’t do it anymore, or he did it in secret. Either way, a few people had started to note his newfound abstinence - especially his confused teammates.  “You don’t even know her name.” He suppressed a snort, but couldn’t stop his amused smile.

“Do you?” Gisele huffed.

Neymar tilted his head to the side, his hazel eyes scanning her appraisingly. She almost squirmed under his assessment, but she wasn’t backing down. She wouldn’t back down until he promised her he wouldn’t go there. Why did it matter so much to her? Because she was just looking out for a friend, right? It’s what friends did for each other. And they were friends…just friends.

“You don’t like her, huh?”

She squinted, looking at him like he had just asked her the dumbest question in the world. How many times did she have to say it?

“No.”

He nodded slowly in contemplation, before cocking a brow. “She’s only interested in one thing, right?”

“Yes.”

“I shouldn’t bother with a girl like that.” Neymar shook his head with faux seriousness, knowing it was exactly what she wanted to hear.

“Exactly.”

“You’re jealous.”

“I am.“ She gave him a confident nod, and he waited for her to realise what she had just admitted. It was almost comical, the way her brows furrowed in confusion, before it quickly changed to panic.

“What?” He could tell that she wasn’t asking him for an explanation, she was asking herself. “I didn’t-…I mean, I’m not-…I just-��

She cut herself off with a loud sigh before she embarrassed herself further, he was already chuckling anyway. Neymar had never heard her stammer so much, but even that was endearing, especially with the deep blush that tinted her cheeks.

“I’m not jealous.” She crossed her arms defensively, but it did nothing to make her words more believable.

“You’re not? But you just said you were.” He smiled teasingly, and it took everything in her to not back down from the challenge when he scooted closer. He was only a few inches away from her, and while she could pretend that it wasn’t affecting her, the truth was that she was more than flustered. He hadn’t looked away from her, and her accidental admission had her own mind reeling.

Because she realised that yes, she was jealous. And if she was jealous, then there had to be a reason for it, and the only reason she had for such a thing was...

Oh.

“I-I think…I need another drink.”

Neymar bit his lip lightly in disappointment, his shoulders slumping imperceptibly. But he forced a smile onto his face and made his way over to the bar.

He had assumed that she would start distancing herself from him after that, so he was surprised when she showed up at his house the next morning with breakfast. At first she acted like nothing had happened, but then he started noticing the change. The way she’d hug him that little bit tighter, and the way her gaze rested on him that little bit longer. He could physically see her catching feelings, and it did nothing to stop him from falling deeper and deeper each day they spent together, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to move past her if he ever had to.

Now here they were, 4 months later.

The TV was on but neither of them were really paying attention to the show that was on. Neymar was too focused on the fact that she was laying between his legs, with her head resting on his chest. His left hand was playing with her long hair while his right was loosely wrapped around her waist.

Gisele, on the other hand, couldn’t keep up with the thoughts flying through her mind. What exactly was she doing? This was becoming common practice for them, and she didn’t do a thing to stop it. She was acting like some clingy girlfriend, and even though he never showed it, it was probably annoying. While she had (surprisingly) come to terms with her feelings for him, she hadn’t admitted them to him…even if she had a feeling that he already knew.

There was no other explanation for his own behaviour than that. As much as she enjoyed his company, he enjoyed hers even more. They would do things together that blurred the lines between friendship and something more. They had almost all aspects of a relationship except the label and intimacy, but they both seemed to avoid taking the one step that could push them into that new territory together (so maybe he didn’t really know how she felt after all).

For Neymar there was still the doubt that came with her break-up. He didn’t want to confess to her if she wasn’t ready for it. He needed her completely detached from her ex for two reasons. The first, was because he didn’t want to be a rebound if she accepted his feelings. And the second, was just in case she rejected him because she wasn’t fully over Alexandre yet.

For Gisele there was a different kind of doubt. Neymar had entertained plenty of women in the past few years, and that was something that she couldn’t ignore. It didn’t bother her (okay, it did) that he had a long list of previous conquests, but it did make her question if she was another destined to join them. It was a doubt that could only be dispelled with his reassurance, but that would require her asking him what she meant to him…and that was a question that would only lead to her having to spill all of her feelings to him, and she wasn’t sure just what she was feeling in the first place.

What if she was reading the signs all wrong, and he was genuinely just trying to be a good friend? The humiliation she would feel if he rejected her would probably kill her. But she wasn’t interested in one night with him, not when she had spent months getting to really know him. She wanted something with him, and that scared her because this was Neymar. She had never seen Neymar like that, but she did now and it felt good to admit it to herself - she had even told Coco and Paulina, much to their surprise. The next step was admitting it to him.

But what did she even feel for him? Like? Lust? Intense lust, maybe? Was that even a thing? But she wanted more than the physical aspect of a relationship. She wanted it all with him, everything he had to offer her, and she would offer him everything in return- and ohmygod! she knew what that was.

“I can almost hear the cogs turning in your head.”

Gisele smiled against his chest, tilting her head further back into his fingers.

“What are you thinking, hm?”

“Nothing, just…” She trailed off with a sigh that hid her racing heart well. It was now or never, right?  “Just…?”

“You remember that argument we got into at that party a few months ago?”

“The one about that girl…Alana?”

“Anita.” She corrected with an amused eyeroll.

“Right, Anita.” He quirked a quick smirk at the memory, she was not happy with him that day.

In a strange sort of way, he both loved and hated seeing her angry, especially when it was at him. There was something insanely attractive about a woman’s temper (at least to him there was), and hers was his favourite. Sometimes he would intentionally annoy her back in the day, just to see that fire in her eyes. He didn’t really dare to do it now, the last thing he wanted was to drive her away. It was like a child acting out, that’s what he did. The only attention she used to give him was when he was doing something wrong, so he continued to do the wrong thing. But he didn’t need to do that anymore, it would only be counterproductive.

“What about it?”

“You told me I didn’t know a thing, that night. I think you were right…”

Neymar shook his head with a small smile. He remembered that, and he also remembered how angry he was himself at that moment. She had just rubbed her happy relationship in his face, and he could admit to himself that he had let jealousy get the better of him, especially when he already knew about Lucille. He was bitter, and the moment she said that she knew him…well, she did technically, but she only knew what he wanted her to know. Unfortunately, what he wanted her to know was hardly anything relevant. He had hidden his feelings for years, he had pretended to be something he wasn’t (that was something she was right about), but not once did she see why he did what he did.

“Oh yeah? Why is that?”

“I never would have imagined that…I mean, I just...”

His brows furrowed lightly at her hesitance. She usually just spoke her mind and didn’t hold back when she had something to say - it was one of the things he loved about her. Neymar rubbed small circles into her back, silently encouraging her to go on.

“Ney, I think…” Okay, now she was worrying him. He’d never heard her sound so small before, and it almost sounded like she was afraid.

“It’s okay, linda…whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Just do it! Stop being a coward.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

It felt like his heart literally stopped at her swift response. He’d barely even gotten his words out before she blurted it out.

“W-what?”

“I know. I’m just as surprised as you are.” She tried to laugh it off, but he could hear the traces of panic in her voice even if she was avoiding eye contact at all costs.

 “Gisele-“

“Well, I’m glad I got that off my chest-“

“-Okay, can we just rewind for a min-“

“Speaking of getting things off of chests, I’m just going to-“

Before she could peel herself off of him, he quickly flipped them over, his face hovering her own as he studied it in disbelief.

“Oh no, you do not get to drop that on me and then walk out of here like nothing happened.”

“I wasn’t-“

“Don’t lie to me. You can’t. Because I know you, and I know everything about you. Including how much you just panicked after saying that.”

“Ney-“

“Please, just listen to me. Because I have been dying to say this for years. Okay?” Despite his commanding words, his tone was soft. Gisele sighed quietly and nodded, too busy trying to assess the look in his eyes to really put up much of a fight.

“I want- no, I need…” He emphasised the word with a desperation she had never seen on him. “I need you to make sure you meant that, because if you didn’t, you have to tell me now.”

He was giving her this chance to make sure she was certain because he loved her with everything in him, and if she didn’t 100% mean it, it would kill him in the end.

“Ney, it’s oka-“

“No, it’s not. You don’t understand…just please, please put all of the flirting and teasing and everything else aside just for a second. I need to know.” There was an intensity in his eyes that made looking away impossible, not that she wanted to in the first place.

“Please, linda.”

His lashes fluttered shut when he felt her soft hands cup his face, her thumbs gently running across his cheekbones.

“Neymar, look at me.”

He did as she asked, and his heart thudded in his chest faster than ever when she shot him a fond smile.

“Eu te amo…I mean it. No jokes, no flirting,” She shook her head honestly, “I love you.”

Her hands moved to the back of his neck as soon as his lips met her own, playing with the short hair. It wasn’t a soft and sweet first kiss, they knew each other too well for that, and there were way too many suppressed emotions between them.

When they finally pulled apart, foreheads resting against each other, Neymar took her hand in his and laced their fingers together.

“You have no idea, how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that…how long I thought I’d never hear you say that.”

She smiled up at him when he placed a kiss to the back of the hand entwined with his own.

“Get used to it.”

“Eu te amo, linda…” His whispered against her smiling lips. “And I’m going to spend every day for the rest of my life showing you just how much.”

They both liked the sound of that.

“So…you’ve been waiting years, huh?” She grinned when he jokingly rolled his eyes.

“I’m already starting to regret this.”

Gisele laughed at his flat response. “Liar.”

#Neymar #psg #Thiago Silva #football #soccer #fanfic

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