darlingdesire

[darlingdesire]

I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCHHH!!! Please can you write an angst fic for Rob please? 🫶

There's No Other Place

( Bobby Skeetz x female!Reader )

Warnings: very intense emotions you will need to prepare yourself for (big sigh)

Genre: ANGST ANGST ANGST HEARTBREAKING YEARNING ANGST

Word Count: 6.6k

Des Talks!!: gulp. i really got into this one. i saw the word angst and decided to get completely wild with it (sometimes the creative freedom isn't a good thing) and i hope you all prepare. Also, this is set before Inhaler gets big and powerful and dominates the world, I would say around the year 2019. Anywho, enough rambling!! thank you anon for sending in this request and I hope I made you proud. You said Angst—I said how much (probably too much oops, imagine if all you wanted was some light angst HAHAHA sorry 😔 p.s, i’ve never written angst before either—you've taken my angst virginity away so thank you) but I want to do a Part 2 to this at some point, so let me know if you guys want it (pls say yes). Ok I gotta shut up now before this note gets too out of hand, I've already let my rambling go far enough. Enjoy reading guys!!! 💗💗

It was nice to finally hang out with Bobby again. It had been a while since the two of you had put things from your hectic lives aside and done something together—no having to cut your time together due to commitments later that day, no having to resort to phone calls as some way to fill the void that your lack of communication and hangouts caused.

Bobby was busy with the band and planning for tour; you were busy with your work. And your boyfriend... Charlie.

Things weren't running so smoothly with him lately and it was causing your stress levels to rise at an unimaginable amount. You were having disagreements; different ideas on what you guys wanted out of your relationship now.

And as your best friend, Bobby decided to take matters into his own hands and try to give you a night where it was just you and him—some time to let your stress go, and finally reconnect.

Which is why Bobby decided to take you to go see a movie together—like old times.

You very much appreciated the efforts Bobby put into making you feel better. In fact, this was the happiest you have felt in a while. As sad as it was to say.

Work was kicking your ass—you were falling behind a little bit on deadlines and emails; you were struggling to keep up with your friends (Bobby especially, and it made you feel absolutely awful) and the issues you were having with Charlie weren't helping either.  

You felt stuck; like there was a thick, long wall that was blocking you from getting to the other side. No matter how much you tried to climb it—how far you tried to walk around it, it was as if nothing was working. You kept on failing.

And then on the other side of that wall; Bobby appeared. Right there with a rope to help pull you up.

Yeah, you really didn't want the night to end.

But neither did Bobby. After the movie finished, he suggested getting some ice cream from the shop along the parade. Obviously you said yes, and off you went to get the biggest cones of icecream you could get. Bobby's treat.

You guys had grabbed one of those wooden spoons each on your way out; using them to scoop some of your icecream to give to eachother to try.

Bobby's bright and cheerful demeanour remained as he scooped a little of his chocolate icecream onto the spoon and held it in front of your face this time instead of putting it onto your blob of icecream. His hand was holding the bottom of the spoon as he playfully tried to feed it to you, his eyes fixated on your mouth.

"Say ahhhh—” He instructed you dramatically, his eyebrows raising playfully.

You opened your mouth with a playful shake of your head, letting him feed you the chocolate icecream off the spoon.

He took away the spoon from your mouth, watching with a soft and sincere smile as you enjoyed it—the sweetness of the icecream coating your tongue and satisfying your sweet-tooth.

"This icecream is good, right?" He said, still smiling as he took a scoop of your icecream with the spoon and brought it to his own lips; you nodded your head with a hum of agreement, mouth full of icecream, "We're totally gonna be regulars there."

You both sat on the edge of the pier, far far away from everyone. The sky was a dark, as night had ascended upon you whilst you guys were busy in the movies.

It was a peaceful sight—a peaceful place to sit and eat your ice creams together. The water was dark beneath you, your legs were crossed as you were too scared to let them dangle over the murky water. But Bobby sat with his feet hovered over the water; you could imagine a shark swimming underneath him, waiting to grab him and pull him under. it send shivers down your spine; and you had half-jokingly warned him.

The two of you sat in a peaceful silence as you both continued to slowly enjoyed your icecreams.

"Thank you for tonight," You finally spoke again after a few beats of peaceful silence; your voice sincere.

You hadn't told Bobby about the troubles you and your boyfriend were having. All he knew was you were just struggling. You felt bad about talking about Charlie to Bobby; he would act different as soon as his name was mentioned. You didn't know why Bobby felt so weird about him. You couldn't tell if it was hate, dislike, uncertainty, whatever.... he would either act too friendly and too chirpy and then be closed off and distant. So you did what you had to do to avoid tension; you ignored it.

That probably wasn't the best thing to do. But you didn't want to rock the ship; you didn't want the confrontation.

Bobby stayed silent for a moment; nodding in response to your words before replying, "Well—my presence is a gift."

You couldn't help the scoff from leaving your lips; smiling down at your icecream in amusement at his mock confidence to lighten the mood—to get you to crack a genuine smile for him.

He could tell the difference between your fake smiles and your real smiles. He secretly enjoyed it when he saw you give fake smiles to your boyfriend—Charlie had no clue.

There was another moment of silence before he spoke again, his voice lower and suddenly a lot more serious, "How's Charlie been...?"

The moment Charlie's name was mentioned, your expression faltered; you knew Bobby would sense the subtle change in the atmosphere.

You did feel bad about the fact you didn't tell him about the issues your relationship was facing. You didn't want him to worry—didn't want him to be bothered. And you couldn't help the slight guilt that coursed through you for holding the information back from him.

you didn't respond for a moment. How were things with Charlie?  you mentally repeated the question to yourself.

"Bad," You finally admitted. It was the first time you had told someone; you didn't really enjoy troubling people with your problems, especially your relationship problems.

You were the person who had other people telling you their problems; you were a good shoulder to lean on—to cry into.

It was the role you had put upon yourself.

Bobby's expression shifted to match your own, his lips pressing into a thin line; he could feel a strange knot form into his stomach—his mood shifted. He hated hearing you say those words.

"Bad?" He repeated back, trying to hide the concern within his voice.

He was trying to keep his mask of indifference upon his expression and he tried to keep his feelings at bay. But he hated hearing that word come from you—especially paired with the word 'Charlie'; he wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you.

And of course, it was Charlie.

Of course, it was Charlie.

You nodded your head in response to his question—confirming that it didn't look good; you didn't say anything else to explain why or how "bad" it was. You didn't want to talk about it; you didn't even want to bring it up.

"But it's nothing—it will blow over," You shrugged, eating the rest of the empty cone; the remainders of the icecream coated your tongue and left you feeling satisfied.

He knew by the way you shrugged and the way you spoke—trying to convince yourself that "it will blow over".

The way your shoulders slumped and your head bowed. It was obvious you didn't want to talk about it.

He didn't want to push you.

Whatever.

"...right.." he repeated softly at your statement, his mouth turned into a frown and he looked down at his own icecream now. The mood was shifting quickly.

You noticed his change in tone, the emotions you could heard in his heavy sigh, and his sudden shift in his mood and you turned your head to look at him; your face twisted into a frown.

"What?" You questioned him, wanting to know what you just did wrong for his mood to abruptly change.

He could hear the subtle defensive tone in your voice, which caused his own irritation to rise. He looked at you, eyebrows raised in a sharp manner at your question.

He averted his gaze, his jaw clenching in irritation as he struggled to control his tongue; if he spoke, he knew he would get irritated. He didn't want to say anything he would regret.

He didn't want to seem like a jealous idiot.

"Nothing," he replied after a beat of silence, a clear bite to his words as he leaned back to support himself with his hands.

You blinked, studying his tight facial expression as he bit into his ice cream cone.

It irked you that he wasn't telling you.

"Tell me," You urged, slightly shifting a little in your spot so that you could see him better; also to silently show him you were looking for a conversation.

Why did you have to urge him?

He didn't want to tell you. He knew you wouldn't listen anyway. You never did.

He sighed—his expression remained closed off as he met your gaze; "You don't tell me things anymore, y/n."

His reply took you by surprise—but you weren't really that surprised by it either.

"...what do you mean?" you voiced, your tone matching his closed off expression.

He let out another sigh, his shoulders drooping. "You... You don't talk to me anymore."

Did he really believe that?

You did talk to him.

…

Yeah. But you didn't tell him certain things—you kept things from him. But you didn't tell him everything like you used to.

He hated that.

"... that's not true," You denied his claim bluntly but he immediately cut you off with a scoff.

"Yes it is," he pressed, his voice growing a bit more irritated again. "I tell you everything—you've stopped."

Those words stung like a sharp knife.

He Was right.

You opened your mouth to justify, to deny, but you had nothing to rebut his words. You had stopped. You didn't want to burden him; you thought he didn't have the time to listen and worry about your silly little problems.

As you remained silent—confirming his words, he let out a scoff again, his expression hardening even more.

"Why?" He asked you bluntly with a tone that had a slight hint of irritation, "You can't just bottle everything up all the time, y/n. You need to talk to people.”

"I can handle it," you retorted defensively; your shoulders squared like a soldiers guarding a battlefield.

His mouth opened once more, but your stubborn reply was enough to get him to bite his tongue. He stared at you in disbelief, a scoff leaving his mouth and he shook his head at you; looking away and toward the water in front of him.

He hated how proud and stubborn you were. He hated how you refused any sort of help or a shoulder to lean on. It was ridiculous. Absolutely fucking ridiculous.

"Not alone, you can't, y/n," He said after a few seconds, his tone was blunt and he bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying everything that came to mind.

This was the exact conversation he was trying to avoid—and you had pushed him into it. Or perhaps he pushed himself into it without even realising it.

"I'm handling it, Bobby," you replied bluntly, your face hardening further at his tone.

Yes, yes you could handle it.

You could handle it all yourself—you didn't need help, you didn't need anyone to lean on when times got tough.

You've always done it. And you always will.

Why couldn't he understand that?

Bobby shook his head again, his irritation growing by the second; he didn't want to hear any more of this bullshit.

"No you're not," he snapped, turning his head to look at you, his eyes practically glaring at you "It’s not just work and life that's stressing you out. Its also Charlie whose stressing you the hell out. I can see that."

He leaned closer towards you, his gaze fixated on you—studying you as your expression hardened further; his words were doing nothing except make you defensive..

"Has Charlie even been helping you? Have you spoken to him about this shit? Because it seems as though you haven't—that; or he couldn't be fucked about you."

Oh. He was really pissing you off now. You couldn't take his tone anymore—his irritating manner as he spat about a man that he seemed to have had his mind set against.

And the way he was looking at you; glaring with a frown—judging you.

"Don't," You snapped, your fingers clenched onto your ice cream cone tightly by your side, "Don't you dare make assumptions about my boyfriend when you don't even know him."

You were getting defensive—Bobby could see this.

But God, he couldn't stop himself from digging a hole further.

"I'm not "making assumptions"," he fired back with a scoff, "He's not right for you. He's shitty—he can't even help you, can he? Instead, here you are. Hanging with me. Talking to me about your problems because he can't handle it—bexause he's making you feel worse!"

This was starting to get heated—it was getting uncomfortable and tense as both of you snapped at each other.

He wasn't even sure why it had happened like this, but your attitude towards the whole situation was pissing him off to no end.

He didn't usually have an issue controlling his tongue—but he did when it came to you.

"He's not right for me?!" You questioned him, your own irritation growing rapidly, "Bobby, you need to shut up, seriously."

"And I will when you listen, y/n," he fired back with the same irritation, shaking his head again in disbelief.

Why wouldn't you listen?

"Jesus Christ," He threw his hands up in the air, turning his head to look away from you again; he looked as if he was pacing while still sitting in place.

He hated this. It was absolutely ridiculous

Silence swallowed you both.

Suddenly, the dark water beneath you didn't look too bad anymore.

You wanted to jump in and disappear if that meant you didn't have to suffer in the intense silence anymore.

The one rare time you open up and this is what you get. You didn't expect it from Bobby—not at all.

In all the years you've known Bobby, you two have never argued like this. You guys were best friends; genuine best friends. The only fights you would have was on the playground in year 7.

You didn't know what to do—what to say or think. You didn't know what to expect after having such a tense, fiery moment with him.

It seemed as though he was the one who was bottling stuff up too. And then it exploded; just like what happened to you.

And this was the result.

You didn't know if this was the calm before the storm; or the calm after the storm. You didn't know which one you hated more. Having to prepare for the worst and fight to survive and defend yourself as much as you could; or having to face the aftermath of the storm, trying to gather what you had and assess what happened; what broke and what couldn't be fixed.

He gripped the edge of the dock beneath him with both hands; his arms tense, knuckled slowly turning white.

"I love you, y/n," He was the first to daringly speak again; you were too caught up in your head to be the first to break the silence, and so you were glad he was the one to do it

You sighed at his words. He meant them, but you knew he was leading on to say more, "I love you too, Bobby, but—"

"Oh—Fuckin' hell, you just don't seem to get it, do you?" He cut you off quickly with a roll of his eyes; turning his head to look at you.

And you did the same; your eyes shooting over to meet his. There was a hard frown on your face, mixed with confusion at his words and sudden raise in voice again.

You didn't like the look in his eyes. His beautiful, light blue eyes that suddenly seemed so dark.

Your eyes searched his, trying to dig into his mind, trying to understand what he was thinking or trying to say.

He looked so mad. And he probably had a right to be to be honest, but you didn't want to admit that to him or yourself.

"What? What don't I get, Bobby?" You questioned him with a bitter tone, your voice raising, "What am I missing?"

He didn't say anything as he looked at you. His expression was unreadable to you—usually you were good at this stuff when it came to him. But you sensed he was thinking; thinking hard and going over what he wanted to say to you in his head.

His lips were parted and he was breathing hard; trying to calm it down. Then his expression changed, it flipped to a harder one. You watched as he pressed his lips together into a hard line, saw the way his jaw hardened; biting back his words.

No.

He can't just cause an outburst like that—he can't just leave you hanging like that.

You remained silent until he began to stand up; leaving you to sit on the floor until you scrambled to get up too, letting out a stern, "Bobby!"

He let out a scoff as you called out his name, trying to get him to speak. He didn't turn to face you though; he just shook his head and began to move, getting ready to leave.

"Bobby, where are you going?" You called out to him, anger lacing your voice as you walked behind him—quickly catching up.

But he didn't even spare you a glance behind him. And it pissed you off even more. You reached out, gripping his arm to forcibly keep him in place.

He wasn't listening to you.

"Look at me!" You had no choice but to exclaim; getting very upset and even more angry. It had caused him to stop in place finally, and face you.

Maybe that was the peak of your anger.

"What was that?!" You asked him, your eyes flickering back and forth between his; referring back to the last part of the conversation you were having before he stormed off without an explanation.

You looked so desperate for his attention; trying to get him to tell you something—anything.

But he was still keeping his mouth shut. He wasn't answering you.

You gritted your teeth, still holding onto his arm tightly; staring daggers up at him.

He didn't want to tell you... it was too much of a risk. He was so close to breaking earlier, he almost told you; but seeing and hearing your reaction had almost broke his heart in two.

"Bobby," you repeated again, your nails digging into his skin slightly with anger, "Everyone and everything in my life is stressing me the hell out. I don't need you to make it worse. Tell me what I don't understand. Help me understand, Tell me what this is really about. Tell my why you have such a stick up your arse because You wouldn't cause a fucking scene like that because I'm not telling you shit anymore."

You were swearing a lot. You didn't like to swear if you could help it, but it all just came flooding out without a second thought. You assumed it was just a way to express how angry you were; how much and how deeply were feeling inside. You didn't even know if what you were saying was making sense; it was all just coming out without a second thought. You had no time to think if you were even being logical, if you were being a hypocrite. Hell, you managed to crack to him that you were stressed beyond belief after telling him you could handle it.

But you looked absolutely beautiful when you were angry. Your face flushed. Your chest rising up and down.

He hated to admit that he secretly adored seeing you like this. He adored it.

He hated how good you looked when you were pissed off.

He hated how beautiful you were to him at this moment; and how he was letting you talk to him like this. Letting you touch him so harshly.

But he loved that he was able to get this rise out of you—even if it was hurting him in the process. He managed to get you to let pent up frustration and anger out, he manged to get you to yell at someone; something you've probably been secretly wanting to do for a while, even if it was him you were yelling at.

But he hated the context behind it all.

He hated that he thought of you like this.

He hated that he was on the brink of telling you; he hated that he didn't know how long he could bite his tongue for in order to keep his words down.

I love you, y/n.

That's all that repeated over and over in his head—all that he wanted to say to you.

But he didn't want to hear the "I love you too" that you would say back like you always do.

Just like what happened on the docks earlier before.

He hated that.

He hated that you just said it so freely to him, like it was the most casual thing in world; not realising that every time you said it, it caused an earthquake to erupt in his heart.

He hated that you didn't mean it in the way that he meant it.

He hated that you couldn't see.

And it hurt him so bad.

Hate and love was a powerful thing. Especially when mixed together. It was bittersweet

"What I said back there," He began, his voice was strained and reluctant; his words betraying him before his mind could talk him out of it, "That I loved you… more than you love me.”

You didn't say anything, but it was obvious by the way you were looking at him that you were listening closely, hanging onto every word he was saying; even if he didn't want you to.

He felt your hands on his skin tighten; your expression stayed hard as you waited for him to finish.

But he didn't go on to speak more.

That was it.

You stared up at him; but he was looking away, gazing off into the distance as he tried to look away but your face. He didn't want to see your reaction before he heard your response.

Your hands retracted.

Everything stopped when it dawned upon you what he meant in his words. The realisation had hit you hard; it winded you practically. You weren't able to take a breath as your mind scanned over what he just admitted to you.

You didn't want It to be true.

No. Surely not. Not after years and years of being just friends. He was your best friend—and you were his. That wasn't supposed to happen.

Perhaps you misinterpreted it wrong... you needed to get him to tell you properly what he meant because you were currently spiralling out of control.

"What do you mean you "love me", Bobby?" Your voice was quieter now—but it wasn't soft, it was stern and serious, "You love me as a friend."

You said, putting emphasis on the friend part, an attempt to try and convince yourself—convince Bobby that he was being silly.

He bit his lip with frustration; he could see the confusion all over your face.

You just killed him.

You stabbed a knife into his heart and gutted him from the inside out; but he was the one who gave you that knife.

What was he suppose to expect? That you would jump into his arms and kiss passionately under the stars, saying you loved him too?

The silence he gave you spoke louder than words.

"No, Bobby, please tell me you're lying," You began to tear up, your eyes trying to search his but they stayed far away from yours.

You could see some tears threatening to spill from his eyes too; the streetlights were reflecting off the quickly forming pools inside of them.

"Since when have you been in love with me?" You asked him, your bottom lip wobbling as your mind raced over how this new information would change things forever.

He swallowed hard, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and he looked down; still not meeting your eyes, "Since forever."

Your heart sank at his words. It hurt you to hear him admit that to you.

How long had he felt this way? Why didn't he ever tell you?

You shook your head, struggling to understand what was going on.

"Why didn't you say anything?" You inquired, "How long would you have gone without telling me?"

Your mind and heart was racing.

Your best friend since you were 10 has been in love with you and you didn't even know.

The guilt consumed him. He hated having to hide this from you for so long. Years. It was destroying him—the fear of ruining the friendship and what you had kept him quiet.

Seeing you cry and so confused because of him and that he has kept you in the dark for so long absolutely broke him.

Not being able to tell you and keep how he truly felt a secret from you for so long has been killing him. He thought all the pain would be worth it if it meant he could keep you.

"I probably would never have told you. I didn't want to ruin what we had," He shrugged, bringing his bottom lip into his mouth as he bit down hard on it.

That only added to the pain you felt.

The fact that he would have gone on living like that; pretending to you be your friend whilst internally suffering from his feelings for you.

He was willing to go through life that way just so you could be happy. Just so you could be oblivious about his feelings. And that... hurt.

You shoved your face into your hands and you took a step back. Your entire world had been flipped upside down; you were living a lie. All those gestures, all those words, all those years...

"Bobby, you're supposed to be my best friend," You almost cried; but powered yourself to stay composed and not let that dam break, "You weren't supposed to love me like that—"

Like that.

Those words were a punch to the gut for him. He felt sick to his stomach at the harsh tone in which you'd uttered them; it was almost like you were condemning him.

His heart was breaking as he looked at you, your own eyes welling with tears and you were shaking your head like you couldn't believe this was happening.

"No, don't say that," He spoke through gritted teeth; trying desperately to hold back his own emotions, but the tears were falling out of his eyes whether he liked it or not, "I don't wanna be your best friend. I want to be more than that."

It was an impossible scenario:

He was in love with you. In love.

And he had been for a long, long time.

But you didn't even feel the same.

And that made him want to scream.

He wanted to scream and cry and kick himself for ever thinking this would go differently.

He knew it was a big risk—he knew that you just saw him as a friend. He knew the odds were stacked and the risks were huge.

But he didn't care.

"I'm not sorry for being in love with you," He let out, lifting his heart-broken eyes to finally meet yours, "But it happened and I can't do shit about it. I don't know how to... un-love you—or whatever the fuck it's called—anymore."

You were tearing up on the spot.

You needed to hold it together—you needed to hold it together.

But he was making it harder and harder for you.

Seeing his emotions, seeing how torn up he was... it killed you.

It reminded you of the little boy you befriended all those years ago.

"What do you want me to say?" You managed to choke out through quiet, shaky breaths; desperately trying to stay strong but you were failing miserably.

How could he tell you he wanted you to love him. To love him how he loved you.

"I want you to say you love me too," He knew it was a huge ask. And deep down he knew it wasn't going to happen.

But he had to try. He had to have some sort of hope.

You shook your head in response.

No. No, you didn't feel like that about him. You weren't in love.

He was your best friend. That was it. That was all it was.

"I can't..." You shook your head, letting a sob escape your body, "Bobby, you're my friend. That's all. There is nothing else there. We are just friends."

Hearing you say those words was like glass stabbing him in the heart.

He felt pain run through his entire body. Every part—his head, his chest, his stomach... it all hurt. He couldn't tell if he was having a heart attack.

He couldn't speak. He knew this was coming—he knew it was. He knew you didn't feel the same.

But hearing it was even worse than he had imagined.

He didn't know what to say anymore. He said everything he had been wanting to say to you. The silence was thick between you both.

He kept his gaze on the ground; he didn't even know how badly the tears were calling until they began falling down off of his face and onto the pavement he was looking at. The tears etched a physical reminder of his pain into the ground; marking it forever.

You stood there and watched as he struggled to compose himself, watching as he physically broke down in front of you.

He looked so broken.

How could you have not noticed it before? You had been so oblivious to the fact that Bobby was in love with you. You had no idea he was in love for so long—yet you had made him suffer in the silence of his own feelings.

But for now on, you would be forever analysing every past moment between the two of you.

How could you have been so stupid?

But how could he have been so stupid?

You watched in utter sadness as he brought his hand up to his bowed faced; wiping his tears away with his sleeve.

You really didn't know how to comfort him now. You didn't know how to be that shoulder for him to cry on anymore; not when you were the cause of his heartbreak.

He lifted his head up, avoiding your gaze by turning it to the side toward where the car was parked; "I think it's time to go."

You didn't argue.

You went along and followed him in silence toward the car; sitting passenger as Bobby got into the driver's seat and started the engine.

You kept your face toward the window as he began to drive. The silence was unbearable, it was so loud. But silence was what you two needed right now; you needed time to process this.

The tears on your face dried; but you still felt the moisture clinging to your skin.

Neither one of you dared to look at one anothed during the drive.

You were completely fixated on the outside world through the car window; and Bobby was trying his best to focus completely on the road ahead.

Neither one of you were mentally prepared to say anything; both of you completely lost in your own thoughts.

He knew he should've expected this when he told you.

All this time, he never took a single second to really think logically about the consequences of letting his feelings out in the open. It was a dumb move and he knew it, but it got to a point where it got too difficult to keep hidden. It was affecting him mentally and physically; he couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't see your face without thinking about how badly he needed you, he couldn't fo to parties or hang-outs when you and your boyfriend was there because it tore him in two.

He let out too much tonight, and he knew there was no going back from here.

He knew you could never look at him the same again.

Now he was just your best friend who was in love with you, but he knew he would have to find a way to get over that; even if it killed him. He knew he would have to find a way to shut off how he felt about you and continue to be your best friend.

How the hell was he going to do that?

He's tried to shut those feelings off before. Jesus, he never wanted these feelings to happen in the first place. It just happened, and he would shut them off in second if he was able to. He thought that you getting into a relationship with Charlie would help to kill his feelings toward you; but he thought wrong. They only became more harder and more difficult to push away.

He knew it wasn't an ideal time to have said what he did.

Especially since you had been going through your own stress and problems with Charlie and work—but he didn't know what the hell came over him.

Maybe he just wanted to get it off of his chest finally.

Maybe he just wanted to ease his pain—to ease the torment and pain he was silently suffering through.

But he took a chance and he told you. If he couldn't do it now then when could he?

No matter the reason, he knew he could not take it back. It was out there, and nothing could change that.

The car pulled up to your apartment complex. You didn't want to leave him; but you couldn't stand to suffer in that silence any longer. You didn't want leave him when you didn't know when you would see him again.

You took your seatbelt off and tore your face away from the window; turning your head to finally look at him for the first time since told you he was in love with you.

He didn't meet your eyes. He kept his gaze trained on the wheel; his hand still resting on it.

You were at a loss for words.

You weren't able to comfort him and tell him it would all be okay. You couldn't see the future; you couldn't see what was going to happen in the aftermath. You couldn't promise him anything or give him any false hope.

You were just staring at his face; searching for something.

You just wanted an idea on what he was thinking; you wanted to know exactly what was going on in his mind.

Neither one of you were able to speak. It was like the words were caught in your throats.

What were you supposed to say now?

Its not like you could say "Thanks for a lovely night, Bobby. See you tomorrow."

Instead, you took a breath. And you spoke.

"I'm sorry," Your voice was quiet and soft; trying not to disturb the thick air between you both.

His head dropped a little, and he bit the inside of his cheeks again—a habit you always saw him do. Then he swallowed hard.

"It's not your fault," He eventually said after a beat of the reoccurring silence.

You kept your gaze on him, studying his expression; the clench in his jaw, the slight tremble of his bottom lip... and then he turned his head toward the window, his hand left the steering wheel and his elbow moved to rest against the car door; his hand coming up to cover his lower face as he avoided your gaze again.

It was a sign that it was time to leave.

You gave him a sad look, knowing exactly what he wasn't saying to you. He needed to be alone right now.

You knew him well enough to know that he needed time to be alone to process everything.

So you opened the car door and stepped out without another word. Then you shut the door, separating yourself from Bobby and you turned on your heel in direction of your apartment.

As soon as you were a few feet away, tears began to well up in your eyes again and your face twisted into one of complete pain and sadness.

Bobby had finally turned his head and watched you walk up to your apartment, and watched as you let yourself in.

He clenched the steering wheel tightly as he watched you go into your apartment; watching the door close after you shut it behind yourself.

His breath caught in his throat as he closed his eyes. His heart ached; it was breaking in his chest. It was an absolute pain.

Everything hurt. The thought of You hurt.

He leaned back into his seat and let his head hit the headrest.

His eyes were still closed. His jaw was still clenched and he bit down on his bottom lip.

Then his shoulders began to shake, and sobs began to leave his lips.

And he cried.

He let everything out.

He wasn't one to cry. Not in a way that it made him feel "less-manly" or whatever bullshit it was that boys couldn't cry. Sure, he would shed a few tears here and there because of something; but he hadn't properly sobbed in years.

He broke as he sat there in that car, just crying. He knew that he looked pathetic. He knew that this was all his fault and that the night didn't have to go the way it did. But the pain and suffering and everything in his heart took over him. He felt weak.

He felt empty.

And when he finished crying; his breathing heavy and tears staining his cheeks... all he could think about was how stupid he was.

How stupid he was to even give you his confession. He should have kept it down. He should have shut his mouth. And now he was probably going to lose you forever.

He shook his head to himself once he finally caught his breath, wiping the tears away from his face with his sleeve again. He probably wouldn't be able to look at that sleeve the same again after tonight—knowing how drenched it was of his tears.

And then he took a deep breath in to compose himself; changed the car into drive, and left.

You sat on your couch. You had let it all out when you got back into your apartment; letting the sobs run through your body and tears falling down your face.

But now those tears were gone. And you were just empty.

Empty and lonely.

Sitting by yourself in empty darkness of your living room. No one was in the apartment to comfort you or to talk to you. And you realised that in this moment what you were going through was something you had never felt so intensely before.

And there you were, still behind that damn wall; but Bobby was no longer there.

Even breakups with previous boyfriends didn't hurt this much.

But you knew this was what it felt like to have a broken heart.

[darlingdesire]

Can you write a fluff fic with Rob please?? 🥰

Pancakes For Two

( Bobby Skeetz x female!Reader)

Warnings: none!!

Genre: domestic fluff

Word Count: 2.3k

Des Talks!!: hey hey!!! thank you for sending in this request anon 🫶🫶 you know I love to write a good fluff imagine—and so I loved loved loved doing this for you. I hope you love love love this too!! 💗💗

"Bobby..." You called his name in a hushed, sing-song voice; crouched down by his side of the bed and your hand rose up to delicately glide over his sleeping face.

He was sleeping on his back, the duvet had moved down whilst you got up earlier; the covers now resting over his waist and exposing his bare chest. His head was turned your way, the side of his face half nestled into his pillow; causing his lips to push into a soft pout, a peaceful expression on his face.

"Wake up..." You continued to try and coax him out of his sleep, your voice growing a little louder but he remained in the serene state; his chest continued to rise and fall at the same pace, his facial features remaining still.

Christ. You weren't surprised, it took a lot to get him to wake up. As soon as he was asleep; he was out. Sometimes you had to wake him up yourself if his alarm wasn't doing nish.

You pulled away from the edge of the bed, rising to a stand as you assessed the situation for a moment; figuring out how to wake him up.

You had made a lovely breakfast for the two of you this morning, deciding to to be sweet and wake up earlier to prepare it. But bloody hell if he didn't wake up soon it was going to get cold.

Well. Time to pull out the big guns.

You lifted your leg and hooked it over him, moving yourself up over him and gently lowered yourself down onto his lap in a straddle.

This should do it.

You leaned down, bringing your hands up to gently hold his face in them as you brought your face close to him; tilting your head to the side a little as you began to plant tiny kisses onto the soft skin of his cheek.

"Baby..." You began again, your voice hushed still as you spoke into his cheek.

You felt the difference in the normal rise and fall of his chest; the pattern of it changing as he finally began to wake up.

Bobby stirred underneath you, his body registering the sudden foreign weight, slowly beginning to regain consciousness; his nose twitched and he groaned against his pillow; his voice a quiet, sleep-laced grumble.

His face moved to nudge into your hand as you gently cupped his cheek, his skin tingling from the feel of your lips; his brows furrowing a little as his lips pursed against the warm kisses you laid out across his cheek.

His lips parted as he inhaled deeply, his nose catching the familiar scent of your perfume. His head turned gently as he tried to follow your kisses, a weak attempt at trying to get your lips to find his.

"Wake up...." You hummed gently, planting a kiss to the corner of his lips as you trailed them over to the other side of his face; softly tilting his head to the other side to give you more access to it.

Bobby groaned softly, his body beginning to wake up, beginning to fully register the feel of you straddling his lap and the kisses you were leaving on his skin. His eyes finally flickered open, slowly adjusting to the light; his vision blurry at first.

"It's so early," he mumbled, his voice hoarse, still thick with sleep; he brought his hands up to rest upon your hips, gently rubbing across the bare skin with his thumb. He tilted his head back into his pillow, his eyes clenching shut at the sudden daylight.

"It's half ten," You told him with a small smirk, one of your hands moving up to strangle in his blonde hair.

He let out a whine at heading the time, "It's so early.” He repeated his words from before in a much groan-ier voice—but still enjoyed the feeling of your fingers moving through his hair.

You rolled your eyes, straightening up and pulling your hands away from his head; resting them on his chest instead as you gazed down at him.

He finally opened his eyes again at the feeling of you pulling away; the absence of kisses he was very much loving suddenly being taken away from him caused him to narrow his eyes at you.

"Ayyyyy—Don't stop," he groaned, his own hand reaching up to grip your wrist as you pulled away from his hair; trying to gently guide your hand back to where it was. His bottom lip pushed out into a slight pout, looking up at you with heavy-lidded eyes as he tried to coax you into going back to running your fingers through his mussed hair.

His other hand on your hip slid up to your waist, his grip holding you down into his lap, preventing you from getting off of him.

"Please," he grumbled; his eyes slowly wandering over your body, noticing the oversized t-shirt you were wearing; the way it hung loosely over your figure. You could feel the heat of his gaze as he looked you, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles over the flesh on your side.

He wanted you to continue, to keep playing with his hair as you kissed and teased him. He wanted you closer, to be in your touch, to hear your kisses against his skin.

"Hey man, I don't like this either," You told him, mocking sweet innocence as you gazed down at him with a smirk; enjoying his early-morning neediness. You leaned down again, pressing your lips to his, "I made breakfast."

You would have kept going with your advances if you didn't spend so much time and love cooking up a breakfast for you two to enjoy together. You would have scrapped the very thought of it—ignoring it until the morning bliss in bed was over and you two went on with your morning, and then finally remembering the food you left on the table.

But you used an awful amount of eggs on the pancakes—and with the obscene price of eggs right now, you would go to hell if you let those damn pancakes go cold.

"Cant believe you'd rather choose breakfast over me," he grumbled, his eyes fluttering shut as your lips met his, "Do you even love me?"

He lifted his chin to try and deepen the kiss, but was thwarted when you pulled away and sat up; his bottom lip pushed into a little pout at the loss of contact.

His eyes fluttered open again; his gaze landed on you and he took note of the look on your face. You raised a brow, challenging him with a betraying smirk.

He wanted you, but now that you'd mentioned food, his stomach began to grumble quietly. He reluctantly loosened his hand that was gripping your hip.

He slowly sat up with a sigh, with you still straddling him; the change in positions brought the two of you closer. Your legs straightened out either said of him. He kept his hand on your bare thigh, his other hand moved up to run through his messy bedhead of hair.

He smiled sweetly up at you, his gaze flickering over you face as he sat up against the headboard.

"What'd you make then?" He asked with a small smirk, his eyes roamed over your body once more as they came to a rest on the shirt you wore; the way it hung off of your shoulder, exposing it to him. His hand began stroking the flesh of your thigh with his thumb again; his touch slow and lazy; his eyes were still heavy, clearly still a little groggy from sleep.

"Pancakes," You answered with a shrug, watching his gaze wander over you before coming back to meet yours, "Very fluffy. Very maple syrup-y. Just the way you like them."

"You're too good to me," he hummed, his smirk softening into a sleepy smile as he looked up at you. His hand moved from your thigh to the hem of your over-sized shirt; toying with the material with his fingers, slowly pulling it down to expose more of your flesh.

"I know—I'm such a good girlfriend," You sighed sweetly, your hands had moved at some point to rest mindlessly on his lower half; his skin was so soft.

His lips pressed into a thin lipped as he took in the sight, bringing his bottom lip into his mouth as he nibbled down on it; "Okay, let's go before I change my mind," He let out through a breath, patting your hip as a gesture to coax you off of him.

Then his eyes zeroed in on the socks on your feet when you began to climb off of him; his eyes widened in shock and amusement and he let out a loud laugh at your choice of socks.

Confused at why he was laughing at your socks, your eyes fell down to see what had tickled his funny spot.

They were a pair of socks that you had grabbed from your undergarments drawer earlier this morning without paying any notice to them since it was dark and you were half-awake. Socks that had his face littered all over them, gifted to you by a fan a while back.

"Oh—what are these!" He gasped, and before you could move your feet away to hide them; he quickly grabbed your socked foot to look at them.

"Jesus,” he snorted, tugging your foot closer to him as he examined the socks with a grin; "Where the hell did you get these?"

He tilted his head sideways to look at your sock with the little images of his face scattered over the material.

"Someone gave them to me; I swear," You laughed, attempting to yank your foot out of his hold.

"Sure they did, ya’ creep," He muttered to himself—joking just to tease you, his grip tight as he kept hold of your foot; not letting you go, not until he'd gotten a better look at the socks. He kept examining the socks with his gaze, his grin growing wider. He was getting a real kick out of this.

"Why didn't I get any?" he chuckled, finally letting his hold on your ankle loosen.

"you can have them if you want," You shrugged, smirking as you almost shoved your foot in his face, he let out a yelp and grabbed your ankle again; moving your foot back down to his side and quickly began to fall forward with you still on his lap.

You were the one to then let out a startled yelp at Bobby's sudden movement; and your back hit the mattress with a soft thud. He was hovering above you, his lips immediately latching onto your neck as he began assaulting the skin with kisses.

"I don't think I'd look as good in them," He mumbled against your skin with a chuckle; feeling the way you shuddered under his touch.

Your hand moved up to tangle your fingers into the back of his hair, massaging his scalp as he planted trail of kisses along your neck;

"Probably not," you sighed, tilting your head to give him more access.

He bit down on your neck with a grumble at your teasing, causing you to let out a laugh and swat him away from you.

"No—pancakes!" You exclaimed, reminding him of the breakfast that was only getting cold.

"Ugh", he grumbled, finally pulling himself away from your neck with a huff; he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours.

He didn't make any attempt to get off of you; his body weighing down on you, trapping you in place under him. He continued to look down at you, his expression softened into a sleepy look, his lips pulled into a sweet and slight smile. He raised a hand to brush a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingers grazing gently over the skin on your cheek.

His thumb gently traced the contour of your lips, his gaze roaming over your face. He was being extra sweet this morning.

"You're just so gorgeous," He mumbled, his thumb still softly grazing over your lip as he looked down at you; he really couldn't seem to get enough.

"Stop trying to seduce me, buddy," You muttered, raising a challenging brow as you caught onto what he was trying to do.

He rolled his eyes; his hand finally pulled away and moved to hold your chin in his hand, angling your face up to look at him and planted a kiss to your lips before moving off of you.

You slowly pulled yourself up and stood up, straightening out your shirt as you waited for him to hop off the bed.

He was quiet for a few seconds, his eyes still roaming your body, looking at you over, his gaze lingering for a little longer on your bare legs; he was so cute when he was sleepy.

He finally began to get up, stretching his long limbs as he let out a quiet groan; his eyes now trained on you.

He took his time to stretch fully, his muscles flexing as he did so; obviously putting a bit of a show on for you. He was still completely topless, the sun streaming in through the curtains was lighting up his skin so well.

He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to get himself to wake up properly.

"Okay, chip-chop before I eat it all without you" You urged him, turning on your heel to head toward the open door to get him to quicken the pace.

[darlingdesire]

helloooooo!! i’m so so in love with your writing, it’s amazing!! could you do some sort of hurt/comfort fic with rob please?? 💓💓

Tough Cookie

(Bobby Skeetz x female!Reader)

Warnings: mentions of wishing death upon someone and bullying

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 4.7k

Des Talks!!: Hello anon!! Thank you so so much for requesting this—and thank you for enjoying my writing 🫶🫶 I think this is the first ever hurt/comfort fic I've written, I was a little nervous writing it since I’m new to writing that kind of genre but so so exciting to expand my experience with it and stuff. I hope the themes weren't too harsh. I hope you (and the readers) enjoy this, anon!! 💗💗

And since there are themes of bullying in this, I would also like to take a moment to say that bullying is never acceptable in any form, online or in real life. Words can hurt, even when they're typed.

If you are struggling or you know someone who is struggling, please take a look at the mental health hotlines and remember that you are never alone.

Lifeline provides 24-hour crisis counselling, support groups and suicide prevention services. Call 13 11 14, text 0477 13 11 14 or chat online.

Beyond Blue aims to increase awareness of depression and anxiety and reduce stigma. If you or a loved one need help, you can call 1300 22 4636, 24 hours/7 days a week or chat online.

You had been staring at the hateful comment for a while. It was buried deep down in a comment section on a cute little TikTok edit of you and Bobby. It had landed on your For You Page whilst you were mindlessly doom-scrolling as you waited for Bobby to come home.

The video had made you smile; your face had lit up in giddy joy and adoration with the smile on your face meeting your eyes—apprecating the work that the person had put into creating a little video dedicated to you and your boyfriend.

You didn't get many edits of you and Bobby on your For You Page, as you tried to limit your exposure to them since you knew there would be someone out there who had something hateful to say about you.

You knew what you were getting into when you and Bobby hard-launched your relationship to the public. You had to put up tough wall when it came to the haters.

But fortunately, the majority of the fans absolutely adored you. They had no reason not to. Bobby always said there wasn't a bad bone in your body—hell, you felt bad for spraying bugs with bug spray and instead opted to try and grab whatever it was in a paper towel to throw outside—even if it scared the bloody hell out of you and you shrieked a little in fear that it was going to attack you back.

You stayed out of trouble, out of drama, and never ever used Bobby for publicity or even fame, never did you try to steal his limelight and make things about you. And never ever did you say rude things about his fans or complain about them to Bobby. That wasn't the kind of person you were.

In fact, you loved the fans. You loved meeting them. You liked it when they came up to and Bobby for a photo—you loved it when they asked if you could take the photo, and even when they asked for you to be in it. You passed on messages and gifts from fans to him, and always tried to go out and interact with them after a show.

There was this interaction with a fan a few months ago that you had after a show, and she had personally drawn you and gifted it to you. You would never forget that—the feeling of being accepted and loved and appreciated so much that someone would take time out of their life to draw you.

And so, you found it utterly confusing when someone hated and despised you when they didn't even know you. You knew it was because you were dating their celebrity crush, but that was still not an excuse to say comment such hateful things. You had seen it all; sometimes they would say you weren't pretty enough, that you didn't match his vibe, that you were only dating him for the fact he was in a band... the list could go on.

You even tried giving the haters the benefit of the doubt, that if they just got to know you then maybe they would like you.

But this comment got to you; and suddenly the sea of comments expressing their love and appreciation to you disappeared.

“I wish she would just die omfg can she just leave Bobby alone she's so annoying bro”

You didn't even feel the smile on your face disappear after reading it; didn't even feel the tears beginning to pool in your eyes. All you could feel was how much it had hurt.

One thing led to another, and soon enough you were scrolling through comment sections reading hateful comments directed toward you.

You had never gone this far before.

It wasn't until you heard the front door being unlocked from the outside that you finally tore your eyes away from the awful comment.

Bobby was home.

You did not want him to see you like this. No way. You didn't want him to see how one silly comment affected you so badly. You didn't want him to read it and start to think negatively about his fans. You always told him the hate didn't get to you and that you were able to block it out—shrug it off with a smile and go on about your day with your chin up.

But God, sometimes the haters just knew how to hit the hurtful spot.

As you quickly shoved the blanket off your body and shot up off the couch; Bobby took of his boots by the front door and shrugged off his coat.

"I'm home!” He called out the second he had walked in, but the darkness in the hallway made him pause for a moment, eyes narrowing as he glanced around curiously.

You would usually turn the lights on in the hallway for him when you knew he was coming home later in the night; but not tonight. You had been stuck on the couch, too caught up in your own head.

And then you appeared from the living room to welcome him home; grateful that you had forgotten to turn the lights on so that he couldn't see your tear-stained cheeks in the dark.

"Hiya, love," He said gently when he saw you walking over to him at a slightly quick pace.

You hair was down and covering most of your face, he was a little disappointed he wasn't able to see the big smile you usually wore when he came home.

"Hi," You replied with a small smile and a tone of voice that was opposite to how you felt inside, putting on a mask; trying your best to push it all away.

Bobby studied your face and body language for a moment as the two of finally reached each other. He was curious about why you weren't as enthusiastic to greet him like you usually were.

It was weird. He could just sense it.

"You alright, love?" He asked softly, a gentle hand immediately sliding to your waist and bringing you a little closer to him.

Of course he could tell I was upset, you thought in your head.

You didn't give him time to fully enjoy the hug, as you were pulling away from him a few seconds after and turning on your heel; not even letting him see your face. He hasn't seen your face properly at all yet—he was missing it.

You nodded your head in response; a little too quickly and planned, weak attempt at nonchalance.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I was napping," You replied to him in a chirpy tone, trying to will yourself to not start crying again as you headed for the kitchen down the hall.

You heard him follow after you.

Uh oh.

"You want a cup of tea?" You asked him, going straight for the mug cabinet and opening it to pull your two mugs out before he could even respond with a "yes".

Bobby was frowning as he followed you into the kitchen.

He noticed the tension in your shoulders, and your quick reply to his question. And now you were keeping your back to him as you busied yourself making tea, refusing to let him catch a glance of your face.

"Yeah, thanks, love," He answered your question, a gentle frown on his face as he continued to watch your movements. 

He leaned against the doorframe, arms folding across his chest as his eyes never left you. He was trying to figure out what was going on.

He was completely baffled. But he had caught onto your lie: You never liked to nap—if you could help it—before bed because then it meant you wouldn't be able to fall asleep later on. He would always tell you to take a quick nap if you felt tired, but you were always too stubborn and said no. He thought you were a psycho for it.

He pushed himself off of the doorframe and began to slowly walk over to you; your back still to him as you put a spoonful of sugar in his mug.

"How was your day?" You asked Bobby, no longer able to take just the sound of the boiling kettle filling the silence between you two anymore.

Bobby frowned even more, not responding; he could hear the strange way you were using your voice.

He was desperate to see your face; you hadn't even looked at him yet and it had his heart twisting in concern. He could still read you though—even if he weren't able to see your face.

He moved behind you, his front close to your back and you turned your head at his silence; almost jumping in surprise at seeing how suddenly close he was to you now.

He finally saw your face; and it broke his heart in two.

The sight of your tear-stained cheeks had him pausing for a moment, completely shocked that you had been crying; and more shocked that you had been trying to hide it from him.

Never once have you tried hiding how you felt from him. You had always been the girl who never put up any walls or barriers between you and him. You felt it was healthy to never hide you vulnerability from each other; you wanted to show him that if you could cry to him, he could cry to you.

But now, here you were; trying to pretend like everything was okay.

"Have you been crying?" He asked, his voice soft and filled to the brim with concern; with worry.

Obviously you had been crying, he could see it all over your face. Your eyes were glistening from the after-effects of the tears, you lashes were still a little wet, and your lips were soft and pillowy. But he wanted you to answer it yourself.

You could feel tears begin to well in your eyes again as he asked the question. You felt silly; you knew he could see that you'd been crying—but you didn't want to admit to it.

You didn't want to seem small. You didn't want to tell him you couldn't handle a few online bullies.

You turned your head away from him quickly, blocking him from seeing your sadness as you shook your head; dropping the spoon into the mug.

"No," You tried to play it off, attempting to speak normally but your voice broke at the end and your breathing started to quicken.

Your quick denial had his heart sinking even more, he could hear the way your voice wavered as you answered him. You were trying your best to keep yourself from breaking in front of him.

He knew it wasn't anything small like you had just watched a sad movie and it made you emotional. You would be laughing at yourself through tears at how a movie had managed to make you cry.

"Oh, baby," He let out in a breath, the way his words came out so softly made your bottom lip wobble and you knew your efforts to seem okay were wasted.

Baby… that was one of the names he called you when you were sad and needed some comforting.

He placed a hand on your waist and turned you around to face him; wasting no time in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to his chest.

"I'm fine," You continued to try and reassure him, but your arms snaked around him and you rested your cheek against his chest with a sad little sigh.

And he didn't like that. Not one single bit. He didn't like the fact you were trying so hard to act like you were fine—to pretend that everything was okay.

He hated you lying to him, he hated the fact you weren't telling him what was bothering you so much; that you had been crying because something was bothering you so much. How could he help you if you didn't tell him what was wrong?

This was unusual behaviour coming from you. You always told him how you felt. You never kept anything to yourself. You always told him if something was wrong; whether it was something big or something small, it didn't matter.

And so far, you had not managed to successfully pull the wool over his eyes.

He tightened his arms around you at the thought, gently pressing his face into the top of your head as he pulled you even closer. 

"Don't say you're fine, love," He told you in a hush tone, one of his hands coming up to thread his slender fingers through your hair.

Your eyes remained open—open, but packed with tears. You always hated when you were sad and trying not to cry and someone would go and ask if you were okay; and then all the work you would put into calming yourself down just fucks right off.

"I've just had a bad day," You mumbled sadly into his chest, trying to calm yourself down by focusing on the comforting and safe feeling of Bobby's arms tightly wrapped around you.

Bobby let out a quiet sigh at your mumbled out explanation to him. He didn't fully believe you. A 'bad day' didn't warrant you being completely overwhelmed with so many emotions that it had you crying like this. 

He knew there was more, but he didn't want to pressure you into telling him everything right now. He knew you needed comfort before anything else.

"I can tell it was a bad day, love," He murmured to you in return, his fingers gently stroking your hair as he held you tightly against him.

The kettle was done boiling but neither of you noticed; the teabags being completely forgotten about.

His hand moved from your hair to cup your face, gently coaxing you to look up at him. You did—but with a bit of reluctance—and your watery eyes met his softened ones and his heart twisted at the sight of the fresh tear streaks staining your cheeks.

"Y'wanna talk to me about it?" His voice was hushed as he spoke, his thumbs brushing your cheeks to brush your fallen tears away.

You let out a sharp breath; more tears filling in your eyes at the feeling of his gentle fingers wiping at your skin.

You wanted to tell him, you really did. But you felt so silly. You didn't want him to say that you were overreacting—that you had allowed a single comment get so far into your head that it was now the reason you were crying. You didn't want him to tell you that it wasn't worth crying over.

You didn't know that it wasn't just that specific comment that caused you to break down. It was months' worth of hateful comments that you had blocked away in your mind; all of it had seemed to build up overtime without you knowing. All the negative feelings you felt from each attack was drowning you like a tsunami. It was just a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. You felt insecure, ugly, unattractive, not good enough... you could go on and on in your mind about how you felt right now.

"I just— " You started to say in a small voice, but was cut off as new tears began to fall.

Bobby saw that you were starting to get more emotional, and quickly felt regret for asking the question. Maybe he had rushed you into talking too quickly—but the worry and concern in wanting to know what was going on in that head of yours had made him impatient.

All he cared about was finding out what was wrong so that he could quickly figure out how to help you. He hated to see you cry like this.

He moved a hand back to gently hold the back of your neck, pulling you back into his chest and you didn't hesitate to wrap your arms around him tightly; pressing your cheek back into him and closing your eyes in sadness.

He let out a sigh as you clung to him, his hands rubbing gentle and soothing strokes up and down your back. He felt you take a shuddering breath and his heart dropped as he heard how sad you sounded as you breathed out; trying to calm yourself down again.

You were totally embarrassed. He had just come home after being gone for most of the day, he was must have been looking forward to relaxing on the couch with you and not have to worry about anything but here you were; crying like a little girl and ruining his—supposed to be—stress-free night. 

"S'okay, love, just breathe," He murmured to you, continuing to rub his hand over your back soothingly.

He was racking his brain on possible reasons as to why you were so upset; wondering silently to himself if it was something that he had done.

...No, he didn't think that. He couldn't think of anything he had said or done to have made you this sad.

"Y'gonna take a deep breath for me?" He asked you gently, taking in a quiet deep breath himself and hoping you would mimic the action, "I won't be able to help you properly if you don't tell me what's wrong, baby?"

You nodded your head against his chest, opening your eyes again as you willed yourself to tell him.

"I just—I saw a comment online about me, saying that I should just die. And then I started reading more hate comments. And it just really, really hurt," You finally told him, feeling embarrassed that you let something like that get to you—that you allowed the person who hid behind their phone screen to finally get you to break down, "And it's stupid—I could have just stopped reading after the first one, I know I'm just being over dramatic."

As the words left your mouth, Bobby felt a sickening feeling in his stomach; anger building up within him at what you had just told him.

He absolutely hated when someone would say something so cruel—especially to you. Not to mention, he also hated that you were blaming all of it on yourself and calling yourself "dramatic" for crying over it.

Someone wished death upon you. His sweet, sweet angel of a girl.

He wasn't having any of that.

"No, it's not," He replied, his voice firm and leaving no room for arguments. "It isn't dramatic and it isn't stupid. Don't say that.”

Your eyes lifted to look at him again, hearing the sharpness in his tone. You could tell that he was trying to hold back his anger; you could see it in the way his jaw was clenched.

He was angry. Angry knowing that people would say such cruel words to you. 

He was trying his best to keep his anger in check. He refused to let you see his anger, as he didn't want you to see a side of him you've never seen before. He would never be angry at you; but he was damn angry at the people who hurt you.

"But I'm fine, I swear," You tried again to reassure him, your eyes flickering back and forth between his.

You never realised that blue eyes like his could hold such fire within them.

"No, no, you're not," He shook his head gently, still not believing for one second that you could convince him that you were fine.

He brought his hands up back to your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands as a way to hold your head in place and make sure you don't hide your face away again. He had enough of you trying to shield your face from him—he loved looking at you. He loved being able to see every little twitch your face made when you were feeling something.

"What that person said was disgusting—absolutely fucking disgusting and don't think for a second that I will stand here and let you believe anything that they said—about what all the hate comments say," Bobby told you, his brows raising a little in a furrow as he continued to look at you, "They're bullies, love. The only reason they do it is because they know they won't face any repercussions from it."

You stared at him with your watery eyes as he softly but firmly kept your face in his hands; staring into your eyes intensely, refusing to let you look away. You knew he was right, but you still felt so—so stupid.

"I know..." You murmured sadly, your eyes breaking from his as you looked down.

"I know its difficult—so bloody difficult. I know its difficult for you to have to deal with this kind of shit; and I am so sorry, baby," He let out, his voice softening as he spoke and you lifted your eyes to meet his again, "And you shouldn't have to deal with that. You are one of the strongest women I know—and I am so fucking proud of you."

As much as it broke his heart to see you looking so sad, he also felt a strong sense of pride and affection for you. He was proud of you that even though you had to put up with all of these negative comments—all of these nasty, hate filled, hurtful comments that no one deserved—you kept trying to ignore them and kept moving on with your life without letting it affect you.

With your words, it was as if a switch flicked inside him—realising that you had been hiding your pain for a while now. He had no doubt that you were always good at hiding your thoughts when it came to this side of your relationship due to his career. You didn't like making a fuss or complaining. You never ever once said that everything became too much. You never said that you couldn't put up with all the bullshit. You kept quiet throughout it all. He assumed you would have told him if you were having troubles facing the hate; because you usually told him everything.

God damnit.

How didn't he notice sooner?

He knew that the world was cruel; he knew what people were really like. The world was filled with horrible people. But to have someone wish a death upon you—that was a whole different level of evil.

Bobby once asked how you managed to just let things go over your head; and you told him the only opinion that mattered, was your own opinion.

You were a tough cookie, and it took a lot to make you break like this.

You felt more tears gather in your eyes, a lump forming in your throat at his sincere words. If there was one thing that Bobby was amazing at; it was knowing the exact things to say to you when you needed it most.

You were truly baffled at how incredibly lucky you managed to get a guy like him. Which was funny, because he always wondered how he managed to get such an amazing girl like you.

His hands left your cheeks, the warmth from his palms disappearing as he delicately pushed your hair out of your face; tucking the strands behind your ears, "But sometimes, baby, you're going to have a day where it gets too hard to keep all that away."

You nodded at his words, looking back down again as you shakily breathed in-your attempts at trying to calm down finally working.

"Yeah..." You agreed through a gentle whisper, "I'm sorry for crying and ruining your night."

He gently wrapped one arm around you and pulled you into him; placing his other hand back to the back of your neck and squeezing it gently, the pads of his fingers rubbing in soft, comforting circles, "Don't apologise for crying," He mumbled softly, moving his lips to rest above your shoulder, "You didn't ruin my night. It doesn't matter... You'll never ruin anything for me, okay?"

He couldn't let you think like that.

You inhaled deeply as you felt his lips press against the skin of your shoulder; nodding again. You gripped the fabric of his own shirt; your fingers grasping it tightly in your hands.

His words had reassured you, but unfortunately, your brain wouldn't stop thinking. You were thinking about the different comments you had over the past few months; the thoughts you'd been having about yourself and how you looked.

He felt your fingers gripping his shirt tighter and frowned, knowing that you were probably still spiralling in your head.

He pulled his head away from your shoulder and lifted it up to rest his chin on your head, his hand that he kept on the back of your neck starting to rub up and down your back.

"Why don't you go get comfy on the couch and I'll finish making us a cup of tea?" Bobby suggested in a hushed tone, still gently rubbing his hand over your skin.

You nodded at his suggestion, his touch on your back and voice soothing some of the tension inside you.

You finally let go of his shirt and slowly stepped out of his loose hold around you, but before you moved away, he quickly cupped your face again, gently making you look up at him.

He quickly kissed your forehead and gave you half a smile, "I'll be right behind you, love."

You looked at him for a moment, your heart fluttering at the feeling of his soft, quick kiss and his sweet reassurance, and you managed to give him back a small smile in return.

You turned and made your way out of the kitchen, heading straight for the living room and taking a seat on the couch with a soft thump.

Bobby watched your leaving figure, taking the opportunity to finally let out a heavy sigh as you disappeared into the other room.  He leaned back against the counter for a moment, his hands coming up to run through his hair as he thought about everything that just happened.

He was kicking himself for not noticing any sooner.

He knew you were good at hiding your feelings, but he thought he was good at reading you. But now he was realising that maybe he wasn't as good as he thought.

He took a deep breath, letting his hands fall back to his sides before moving to finish making the tea.

He made sure to add a little extra sugar to your mug.

He knew you liked a lot of sugar in your tea, but he also knew that you liked a cup of tea when you were sad. He thought the sugar would make you feel a little better.

Once the tea was finished, he picked up the two mugs and made his way over to the living room; to you.

You had curled up on the couch as you waited for him to finish the tea, the soft wool blanket that was draped over the back of the couch now wrapped around your body and a pillow between your arms; hugging it tightly.

You were staring blankly at the TV, the sound of a movie playing in the background, but you didn't pay attention to it. Instead, you were thinking.

A lot of thinking. You always managed to think too much.

Bobby's heart sank at the sight of you curled up on the couch, wrapped up in your own little world of thoughts. He quietly set the mugs down on the coffee table and then sat on the couch.

He moved a bit closer to you and gently placed arm around your shoulders, carefully pulling you to rest your head on his chest.

You felt him pull you closer to him, the warmth of his body radiating off of him and you instinctively snuggled into him, the pillow still being held tightly in your arms as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the sound of strong, steady heartbeat.

You felt his head shift, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head; pouring every ounce of love he had inside of him for you into the precious action.

He let his lips rest against you, muttering a soft "I love you," into your hair.

The corners of your mouth twitched up into a small, sad smile at his sweet and tender gesture, your heart fluttering as you heard the three words being said.

You felt his warm hand slide under the blanket and rest on your waist, softly rubbing it as a way to soothe you.

"I love you too," You responded, "Thank you for being there for me."

He smiled at your whispered words, pressing another kiss to your head where his lips continued to rest before he turned his head toward the TV, resting his cheek ontop of your head now.

His hand held your waist a little bit tighter; his thumbs stroking back and forth mindlessly he felt the tension inside you start to slowly fade.

"Of course, baby," He muttered quietly, "I will always be here for you."

[darlingdesire]

Sunday Walks

(Bobby Skeetz x female!Reader)

Warnings: none

Genre: fluff (when is it not at this point)

Word Count: 3.1k

Des Talks!!: this is part 2 of “Late Night Talking”, if you haven't read it then please go check it out!! I’m thinking of just creating a series based on this universe with Bobby, y/n, Lady, and Pauline. Its tugging in my heartstrings man. I just have no clue what to name it 😭💗 requests are open!!

The two of you woke up peacefully at around seven; and spent some time cuddling in bed for a while with Lady squashed between you before the dog decided it was time to get up for breakfast and start the day.

You had gotten up first, pulling yourself away from the warm body beneath you and stretched your arms up into the air—letting out a satisfied groan at the feeling of stretching your limbs are a long sleep.

You caught sight of Bobby's hair when you opened your eyes and let out a laugh. It was all over the place, clearly he had a good nights sleep. He groaned at your teasing and went to run his hand through the strands to try and tame the mess; but you had quickly stopped him from ruining the amazing sight. You quickly grabbed your phone from your bedside table and hooked your legs over either side of Bobby, straddling him as you held your phone up to take a 0.5 photo of him and his bed head. He had rolled his eyes but let you take the photo anyway since it made you laugh.

You put your phone back down after taking the photo and began to climb off his lap—earning a gentle smack on the bum from him as you did so.

Bobby took Lady out into the garden so she could go to the toilet whilst you started making a coffees.

It was very, very cold outside.

And he was very, very much going to go and complain about it to you when he got back inside the house.

Even with the thickest layers of clothing he owned, Bobby still felt incredibly cold and urged Lady to hurry up so they could go back inside.

Bobby came back in, hands shivering and cheeks an icy red from the cold. He had pulled his hood up over his head, shoving his head down into it even more and making his barely tamed bedhead even worse.

He stumbled into the kitchen and towards you, his body now shivering a little, "Jesus christ, why is it so cold outside this early?"

"I dunno, I think it might have something to do with it being winter," you sarcastically answered back, bringing the cup of coffee to yours lips and took a welcoming sip; motioning for Bobby that his coffee was ready too.

"Do you hear the way your mother speaks to me?" He said to Lady as he kicked the random pair of shoes off, fake offence plastered all over his face as he looked down at her with a hurt expression.

Lady wagged her tail in excitement at the attention, the soft fur on it flowed from the repetitive action. Such a spoilt dog, she was. She had to be brushed and groomed every night as to keep her coat fresh and beautiful, and she was fed with the highest quality of dog food (that Tescos offered). But she deserved a life of luxury, anyway, with how sweet she was. She was basically your child.

You watched the scene with an amused expression on your face, leant against the kitchen counter in front of the window.

"Yeah, thank you, at least someone here is understanding and cares about me almost freezing to death," Bobby shook his head, bending down a little to stroke Lady's head and incredibly fluffy ears.

Lady's tail thumped against the kitchen floor in response to all the affection she was receiving, her tongue falling out of her mouth in a happy smile.

You chuckled as you watched the two of them together and rolled your eyes at his dramatic words.

"Don't encourage him, Lady," you said.

He stood back up, eyeing you playfully from across the room with a look that said 'I'm freezing and that means you have to do something about it.'

"I need warming up," he muttered with a small huff, his eyes still locked on you.

You raised a brow, knowing what he meant but you instead motioned your mug to his one that sat on the counter untouched—steam from the heat flowing out of it, "Well, your coffee's there waiting for you—it's getting lonely."

He narrowed his eyes at your suggestion, letting out a little scoff as he realized you were just not going to go along with what he was hinting at.

"Yeah—because that's what I meant," he grumbled sarcastically, a hint of a smirk of amusement on his face as he closed the gap between you two.

He sighed, taking note of the way you were now smugly sporting a smirk on your face. He knew you were playing hard to get, and he knew you were amused by it due to the look you had.

You couldn't help the grin from sneaking up onto your face, disobeying you. And so did your mind—you cracked. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to him and you rested your your cheek against his shoulder as you looked out at the garden through the window in front of you.

The sky was grey and cloudy, and the grass near the back of the garden had frost clinging to it still.

You loved the winter. Lots of people hated it, but to be honest; you loved every season. You treasured the fact that you were able to enjoy the change in seasons, you appreciated the weather changes and the changes in nature. You took time to notice how each season transformed the way your world looked. And most of all, you were grateful you could spend them with Bobby. Because who knew how many winters you had left on this world. You considered it a privilege that you could watch the world go by.

Bobby leaned his head on the top of yours as he held you close to him, sighing out a content breath as his eyes roamed the garden as well, taking a moment to appreciate your little home.

His cold hand softly ran up and down your clothed back. "You're so warm," He mumbled into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pulling away with a gentle pat on your hip.

With his hand still attached to your waist, he moved to grab his coffee off the counter next to you two, and leaned down to press a thankful kiss to your temple, muttering; "Cheers, love."

He squeezed your waist gently before pulling away completely from you; taking the coffee with him as he continued the morning routine.

And the fact that it was a weekend and he didn't have to do anything other than go do a food shop today was also nice too.

You sipped on your cup of coffee and you watched him wander off into the living.

You followed after him and took seat on the couch, watching him still as he opened the blinds and allowed sunlight to enter. Lady hopped up onto the couch to sit with you, curling her small body into your side with her half-eaten bone.

After the blinds were opened, Bobby returned to you. He sat down on the other side, a large gap between you two and he placed his long legs your lap. He rested his cup of coffee against his stomach and had his other arm behind his head, resting it comfortably along the back of the arm of the couch.

You spent a few minutes absently scrolling on your phones—an awful habit, you know—but also to reply to messages from people and to check social media. Once you finished your coffee and Bobby finished his, you got up from the couch and reached for his empty mug; his legs falling down and landing on the empty space where you had been sitting.

You took the mugs to the sink to wash up as Bobby started getting himself ready to take Lady for a walk. You joined him in the bedroom as he changed out of his pajamas and into something more decent, and you did the same. You both dressed warmly, and you even stole one of his hoodies to wear.

Lady was excited for the walk, and had started jumping up at you and Bobby as you both stood in the hallway by the door—putting your coats on and making sure you had everything.

Once you and Bobby had put your coats on, Lady was now going mental, jumping around as her excitement for the walk peaked. Bobby crouched down and clipped her lead on to her collar before exiting outside into the cold.

Lady immediately beelined towards the street, pulling Bobby along with her as she dragged him forward. He couldn't help but roll his eyes, holding onto your hand a little tighter as you both followed behind Lady along the street.

"Christ—love, she's gonna dislocate my shoulder one day," he muttered, earning a laugh from you as you watched Lady take the wrong turn until Bobby started leading her across the road, "we're going this way, to Pauline's house—you wanna try and see Betty, hey?"

Lady started getting more hyper, her excitement for going to see Pauline increasing—as she now recognised and understood what was happening.

Bobby and you walked up the drive, following the path to Pauline's front door. And just as the three of you reached it, it opened.

Pauline looked up from the slight step from the door to the pavement, her surprise evident on her face when she saw you and Bobby.

"Oh! Hello, you two," her voice carried that same warm, grandmotherly tone it always had; her face moving from one of surprise to one of happiness.

She had her purple coat on, and in her glove-covered hand was Betty's lead—the small Shih Tzu who immediately began greeting Lady with happy licks.

"what are you two doing here? I thought you would be sleeping in since it's a Sunday," Pauline asked, though nonetheless; she was very happy to see you and Bobby.

"Thought we might ask if you wanted to join us on our walk?" Bobby asked her, shoving both of his hands into his pockets to keep them warm.

Pauline's eyes lit up with joy.

It had been a while since she had joined in on your guys' walks—walks with just the three of you, as the past few weeks you and Bobby had taken turns to walk Lady separately because the other had been busy.But thankfully, you two were able to walk Lady together today. You had missed walking Lady with Bobby.

"Oh, that'd be lovely," She said with a smile, holding Betty's lead closer to her as the little dog wiggled around in excitement.

So you continued your walk with the additional company of Pauline. She was chatting away as usual about some of the old people gossip and then about how she was planning on heading to the conservative club later on and have the carvery there with some of her friends.

You and Bobby walked side-by-side, and Pauline was leading ahead, and her sweet, old rambling created a constant background noise.

But, he couldn't help but turn to glance at your face every now and then. He didn't know why, but something just had him staring. He was taking in the way your cheeks were slightly red from the cold.

He loved winter—he loved the way you looked when winter hit.

Lady and Betty were at each other's side every now and then, trotting along the street and stopping every now and then to sniff things they found interesting.

The three of you walked into town, and the bigger space meant you all could walk side-by-side; Pauline had folded her arm through yours when she wanted to tell you about something, it was a warm habit she had when she was speaking to you or Bobby.

Bobby had let Pauline in on his recent life updates, finally telling her about how the album was going and when it might be finished; letting her know of any upcoming projects the band had. She was very interested in his career, very proud. And enjoyed to read articles about his band—she even had him show her some clips of him and the guys performing on YouTube.

He always found it endearing that she took such a huge interest in the band and whatever he was up to. She always wanted to know the little details, and enjoyed watching the videos of their performances—Bobby promised her at some point that he would try and talk with the guys and schedule a venue close to where they lived so she could go and see them live.

After a few more minutes, Pauline let out a little "oh" noise, halting in her steps and turning around slightly to look at Pound Land, "I forgot I need to go in and grab these aloe vera drinks for my grandchildren."

"I can go in and get them for you?" You offered, glancing from Pauline to Bobby and back again, "you and Bobby can sit down for a few minutes then," You then suggested, knowing that Pauline's back would start to ache painfully as it did after being out for long periods of time.

"Oh, alright then—thank you, dear,," She said as her face was lit up with a look of gratitude, "But are you sure? I don't want to be a bother.”

"Yes, go on, I wont be long," You reassured her with a smile, handing Lady's leash to Bobby. He took it from you and squeezed your hand gently, a small "see you in a sec" gesture.

Pauline nodded, "Thank, sweetheart," she said in appreciation, her smile growing wider as she looked at you with that look of affection that grandmothers are so good at giving.

Bobby's gaze followed you as you walked toward the store entrance, and only diverted when Pauline began pulling him along to the nearby bench.

Her plan worked.

Pauline sighed in relief, thankful for the small rest on the bench. "She's a wonderful girl—you should consider yourself lucky, Bobby," She started, turning her head to look at the man next to her.

Bobby hummed in response, his eyes now fixated across the street to the store you were in—he couldn't help but keep eyeing you through the window, watching your figure as you walked the aisle. He had a small smile on his face as he listened to what Pauline said, "She is, isn't she," He said softly, knowing very well that you were irreplaceable.

"And she loves you very much," Pauline continued, and Bobby raised his brow at her words, wondering where this was suddenly coming from. .

He nodded, a more gentle smile appearing on his face now. Pauline was aware of the extent to which the two of you loved each other—and she was even more aware of how protective he was over you, too.

"That's good—I was starting to worry," He couldn't help but joke.

Pauline smiled at his ever-present humour, earning a small, gentle smack on his arm that rested next to hers.

"So, are you going to marry her soon?" She then asked, very straight-forward and gave Bobby no time to prepare for the question. It had caught him off guard, and his eyes widened as she looked at Pauline next to him in surprise and then to the shop that you were still inside of.

Was this Pauline's plan all along? To get him alone so she could ask that? He had a sneaky suspicion it was due to how randomly it came up.

Bobby let out an awkward, somewhat nervous laugh, running a hand through his messy hair and averting his eyes from her—his cheeks a little flushed.

It wasn't that he didn't plan on doing it, it's just that it had been on his mind even more as of late.

"I've uh— been thinking about it, yeah," He said as he tried to calm his fluttering nerves that had suddenly started up again, "Why? Did she say something to ya'?"

She noticed this and gave him a knowing smirk as she watched him turn his head to look at her with a curious frown.

"No," Pauline replied softly, but the smirk still lingered on her face as she patted his knee, "I'm just an old woman that sees things, is all."

He rolled his eyes jokingly at her words, shaking his head and giving her a small 'hmph' in response.

"You know," She said, her expression changing to a more serious one as she said, "She'd say yes—you know that?"

He was looking at her again now; the playful smirk disappearing from his face.

"Yeah—yeah, I know," He answered quietly. He couldn't help the small sense of worry that was suddenly appearing, even though he did know that you'd say yes.

"Stop looking so nervous, you daft boy," Pauline laughed lightly, shaking her head at him before saying quietly in reassurance, "She is completely in love with you. Don't worry about it," She smiled at him, placing a comforting hand on his knee and squeezed, "But I suggest asking soon—as I'd quite like to be alive when it happens."

"Pauline!" Bobby exclaimed at her unexpected dark joke, not wanting to even think about what would happen when that time comes.

The two of them chuckled softly at that, and Bobby's anxious expression softened at her words.

Maybe she was nosey, and maybe she shouldn't be asking such private details that involve only Bobby and you—but talking about it to someone, especially Pauline, definitely made some of the nerves go away. And hey, she was old, she was allowed to be nosey now.

"I'll remember that," He said with a small smirk, his arm brushing up against hers as he said, "And you'll be the first to know, I can promise you that."

Pauline returned his smirk with her own, satisfied to hear his promise.

She had never seen two people so in love and so clearly meant for one another—and you reminded her so much of her daughter. The same kind soul with a heart of gold, always willing to go out of your way to help someone. She knew you and Bobby were one of those fated couples.

She knew how he looked at you, how he held you. It was all so familiar to her, watching the two of you together.

It was like watching herself with her husband again.

The two of them watched as you appeared from the store with a small paper bag in your hand—and there you were again—looking as beautiful as ever, just like every day he's known you. His heart fluttered again.

Oh, god, he was so in love.

[darlingdesire]

Late Night Talking

(Bobby Skeetz x female!reader)

Warnings: None

Genre: domestic bliss fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

Des Talks!!: well well well, i’m back again writing fluffy domestic bliss between Bobby and reader. Whose surprised? Not me. I think I have an obsession with this type of genre. I think this is the same universe as y/n and Bobby in “Your Turn”, if you haven't read it yet then definitely go check it out (please) anyways, requests are always open!! I write for Bobby and Eli mwah 💖

Your bedroom was dark; the night had enveloped the room in a dimmed darkness, but there was a nice little gap in the curtains, which allowed a slither of faded moonlight to enter.

But you and Bobby weren't asleep. Far from it, actually. You guys stopped trying a while ago.

You were cuddled into eachother, the covers pushed down to your waists since your shared body heat was enough to keep the two of you warm. His arm was wrapped around you, holding you close to him; his cheek pressed against the top of your head as you rambled on about your day.

The two of you had been separated since early this morning, with Bobby having to head into the studio today; and only returned a couple of hours ago. He and the band were working on some final touches for the new album—they were so close to finishing, which is why he had been gone for longer than usual these past few days.

The world didn't know this, but behind closed doors—Bobby Skeetz was a big softie. And only you knew that. He was painted as this guy who didn't care much about showing affection; that he was too unserious and funny to be able to show these feelings toward someone. But you knew differently. You knew that behind all that, he was probably one of the most sensitive guys in the band. He felt things so deeply. You assumed the reason why he was so funny and witty was because of how sensitive and loving he could be.

There was the image that everyone created of Inhaler, bass player, stage Bobby Skeetz; and then there was your Bobby.

The one only reserved for you.

Your body was half-on top of him, and the only sound in the room was your rambling voice, followed by his occasional hum of acknowledgment. He had snuck his hand underneath the thin material of your shirt, and he was running his hand up and down your back in slow, smooth motions, his fingers tracing along the skin of your bare back as he did so, listening intently to the things you were saying with a small, content smile.

He continued to listen until you were done, his smile widening just slightly before he spoke, his sleepy voice muffled a bit by your hair. "Love Pauline," he chuckled.

You had been talking to him about the old woman who loved across the street from the two of you—her name was Pauline. She lived there in her retirement bungalow with her little dog, Betty. You and Bobby met Pauline when you moved into the street; she was the first one on the street to greet you.

You would catch her in the mornings and the afternoons taking Betty for a walk around the block and through the town—sometimes you and Bobby would join her with your dog Lady, if you had the time. You would have her over for a cup of tea, or she would have you over for a cup of tea for a chat. She was a widow, and most of her family lived a few hours away. She was a very social lady, always making an effort to chat with all the other older people in the town (and always made sure to fill you in on recent gossip in the old person community).

And If she saw one of you without the other, she would always make an effort to ask "where's your Bobby today" and, "How is your y/n doing?"

She had a special place in you and Bobby's heart.

You and Bobby lived in a quiet town full of mostly old people—it was good because it meant there was a slim chance of Bobby being recognised. You moved into this small bungalow together a year and a half ago, deciding it was a nice fit for you temporarily until you bought a bigger house together somewhere else; when the time was right.

The town was perfect for you two right now, as it wasn't too far away from the other lads and the main studio where they worked on their music.

But it was an unusual thing for such a younger couple to move into a town full of mostly retired people; especially on the street you lived in where almost every house was a bungalow specifically for older people to retire in. There was one other younger couple that lived down the street from you—but they were in their mid-thirties.

You nestled your cheek further into Bobby's chest, enjoying the feeling of his hand moving in slow, languid circles up and down you back.

"And Pauline asked if you could come over some day this week to take a look at her radio—it's not working or something," You told him, your voice a gentle murmur since the side of your face was smooshed into him.

Since Pauline was a widow and her younger children lived far away, she didn't have a husband or any help from a younger person to help with the things she hadn't much knowledge on—like problems with her tap, or when she had to move something heavy and couldn't since she was old, or when her TV was playing up—it was something she had to adjust to for the past ten years in his absense, and so she was eager to have a young man like Bobby who knew all these things to help. Especially when he had to move heavy things for her—you had a suspicion it boosted his ego and made him feel manly.

Bobby chuckled, "Yeah, I'll go over at some point this week," he said, his hand continuing to trace patterns across your spine.

His hand stopped at the base of your back, and he began to lightly play with the hem of your shirt, running his fingers under the material and over your skin.

His heart always felt extra full when the two of you were together like this: the lights off, bodies pressed against one another, tucked away in this secluded, little cocoon of your bedroom as the two of you shared whispers and murmurs in the darkness.

"Mmm, good, good," You mumbled lazily into his chest, your eyes fluttering shut for a small moment; basking in the feeling of being with him. These kinds of moments with him were your favourite, where you two were completely alone and hidden from the world with no outside distractions whilst cuddled into eachother—especially these simple times at night when you had no other commitments, other than just being together.

"She also asked how the album was coming along, by the way—you haven't been giving her regular updates, man," You remembered, passing on the message.

Pauline knew of Bobby's career—knew he was in a band called Inhaler and that it was pretty popular.

You remembered when she asked him to play one of his songs for her, and how Bobby had then given her some CDs for her to play on her very old CD player. She displayed them high on her shelf in their own little space for everyone to see. Bobby was pretty proud of that. He promised she would be one of the first to hear the new album, and was already in the middle of sorting out getting a CD to give to her before the general public had access to them.

At almost eighty years old—she was probably Inhaler's biggest fan.

It was Sunday tomorrow—perfect. Bobby didn't have to go into the studio or go and meet with the guys and the team for any band stuff, and you didn't have any plans. You used to hate Sundays, but now you loved them.

Oh, how different a person's outlook on life can change because of someone else.

You sighed, your eyes fluttering closed as you thought tomorrow, "We gotta do a food shop at big Tesco's tomorrow too."

"Oh, grand," he grumbles in sarcasm, feigning a dramatic groan as he leaned his head back into the pillow behind him.

He didn't like doing the food shops on Sunday because that's when everyone else would be doing their food shops too. He despised when it was busy at big Tescos, as some people just lacked social awareness and probably didn't even know where they were most of the time. But he loved doing those little domestic things like going to the shops with you to pick up groceries.

"We should just pick up takeaway tomorrow night and have cereal for lunch," he tried, wanting to avoid that trip to Tesco as much as possible. He did, however, also know that you'd probably be against that idea.

You raised a brow at his suggestion, your eyes opening as you slowly smirked.

"M'kay. But you're gonna have to tell little Lady that she's gonna have to go without dinner tomorrow and go hungry because her daddy couldn't be arsed to grab her wet food," You replied with a lazy shrug, referring to your English Cocker Spaniel who was currently sound asleep on the foot of your bed.

Bobby huffed out a chuckle at your words, knowing that there was no way that he was going to let that poor little dog go hungry. He could see the look in your eyes already.

"You evil woman. Using our dog against me,” he teased, his free hand coming up to press against his forehead in dramatic defeat, his head lolling to the other side away from yours. He was definitely just being dramatic, putting on a comical show because he knew how much it made you laugh.

That was the biggest reason he did all of those dramatic, silly things. He loved to listen to the sound of your laugh.

You let out a gentle chuckle at his dramatics. With the new angle, you were able to tilt your head back a little and look up at him—reaching for the hand on his forehead and taking it in yours, bringing it down to his chest again and started drawing tiny patterns on the back of it with your finger.

"I'm not opposed to getting takeout for dinner though," You suggested, a slow smirk curving at your lips—it was music to his ears.

He smiled, tilting his head back to your direction and looking down at you. Your touch was always the gentlest, your little finger tracing soothing patterns against his hand, almost lulling him to sleep with how soft and slow they were.

But that smirk on your face paired with the idea of takeaway food was enough to keep him awake for a while.

"God—you know the way to my heart," he muttered, his own smile growing into a small smirk, a teasing edge to his voice as he gazed down at you.

You let out a delicate chuckle at his words, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to his jaw where you could reach.

But apparently that wasn't enough for him, and he looked down at you with raised brows and an expectant look, "Ah, ah—you missed."

"Oh, sorry," You muttered out an apology, leaning forward again to plant a chaste and sweet kiss to his chin this time; completely missing his lips on purpose.

You were a little minx, he thought to himself.

He rolled his head a little to the side, leaning his cheek closer to you and looking down at you with an expectant look.

"Love, I'd like one on the lips please," he said with mock-politeness.

You grinned, eyes sparkling up at him in joy as you leaned forward to finally press a sweet kiss to his lips; and pulled back to look up at him with a soft giggle.

He made you laugh. And he loved making and hearing you laugh.

It always sent his heart fluttering—he was sure it would never grow old to him. It would instead grow old with him—the feeling following him to when you were both retired and spent your days on the porch. Even then, he would still try and do things to make you belly cackle—maybe pretend to fall off his rocking chair and then complain about the arthritis in his back. But he would probably mistake the fluttering feeling for heart palpitations when he got to that age, though. He would be in big trouble then.

"Was that good enough?" You asked, the glimmer in your eyes never dimming.

He gave you a playful, sarcastic look, his lips pressing together into an exaggeratingly pensive expression with a little shake of his head, as if his words were going to have to be very calculated.

"Hmmmm... no, not quite," he answered, his eyes crinkling. His gaze flicked back and forth between your eyes, his light blues eyes dancing with playfulness. "Try again," he said, his lips beginning to quirk up at the sides.

"Jesus, aren't you picky," You scoffed with a sarcastic roll of your eyes, "M' not sure if I want to anymore."

He smirked a bit, "Only for you, love," he teased quietly, his tone taking on a more flirtatious edge than it had before. He rolled his head a bit, staring down at you and giving you a slow blink in return. He raised his hand to your chin, holding it in place for a moment, his thumb brushing against your skin as he studied you for a moment.

"Now be a darling and give me a proper kiss," He said, looking at you impatiently with raised brows.

You pushed yourself up a little, almost hovering over him now and gently grabbed his chin; positioning it and angling his head in a way so you could lean down and land a "proper" kiss to his lips.

His free hand snaked around your waist, holding the small of your back and bringing you in closer as you laid your lips on his.

He hummed against your lips, sighing out in content. He had kissed you so many times by now—and yet he still felt that little jolt of butterflies in his stomach every time your lips touched.

He leaned more into the kiss, tilting his head to the side as his hand that was on your chin moved to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair.

You pulled away after a few seconds, satisfied with your effort and making sure to plant one last small kiss to his lips as the cherry on top.

"Better?" You murmured, your voice quieter now that you were so close to his face.

He pressed forward with a slow nod, stealing one more quick kiss from your lips before he answered, "Much much better," he whispered, his hand still playing with your hair and his gaze flicking across your facial features as if he were trying to memorise them.

He brought his thumb up to your cheek, tracing a little circle around your skin in one of his signature, sweet, caring gestures.

"You still need a bit of practice—but we can work on that tomorrow," he teased with a small smirk, a glint in his eye.

You rolled your eyes at his words, a hint of a smile still on your face as you lowered your head back down to his chest.

"You're so annoying," You murmured again into his skin, your voice lazy.

He wrapped his other arm around you when you laid back down, holding you closely against him, his hand moving over to your hip.

"Dont act like you don't love it, though," he spoke, his hand beginning to trace lazy circles on your hip, "Otherwise, you wouldn't still be sticking around."

You hummed in acknowledgment, "Mmm—actually I might ship you off to Pauline's house," You told him, and your eyes fluttered shut again.

He made a quiet 'oof' at that, "Will you now?" He drawled out, pressing his chin into the top of your head, hearing you hum a small "mmhmm" in response. "Well, me and Pauline will have so much fun without you. Don't come knocking when you need me to fix the central heating, again."

"Nah—I'll just get Barbara's husband, Edward, from down the road to help fix it," You replied with a smirk at your retaliation.

The central heating in the house would play up sometimes, and although you've tried to learn how to fix it—you gave up after it didn't work and just got Bobby to start fixing it instead. 

"You know old Edward would just make things worse," he replied, his hand giving your hip a firm, playful squeeze as he pressed a smirk into your hair, "You need me."

"Whatever," You replied, though feeling your heart grow warm at his words.

He chuckled lightly, shifting a bit underneath you, pulling you in closer and rolling onto his side, so the two of you were now facing one another.

He always liked to memorise your face when you both were alone together at night; when he could soak in the peace and just admire you under the dim lighting.

“I was comfortable,” You whined, your face in a small scowl at the sudden change in positions. But at least you could look at his face though.

"Oh, be quiet," he scolded gently, one of his hands coming up to caress the skin of your cheek, his thumb rubbing your face softly, "This is better."

His eyes roamed over your face again, his hand moving down to your chin, tilting your head softly to the side as he moved his own a bit closer, studying your features.

You didn't respond, no words were needed as you let him tilt your head back gently; you felt shy under his gaze though.

"Stop looking at me," You grinned bashfully, closing your eyes as a way to block out the sudden attention on your face.

He chuckled lightly, his hand dropping from your chin to hold your cheek instead, "Why? I think you're rather nice to look at," he murmured.

His thumb moved over your face again, softly tracing little circles on your skin, his eyes roaming over the features of your face once more.

His expression was so gentle and fond. He was taking in every detail of your features—from the soft curves of your nose and cheeks, the line of your parted lips, to the long lashes covering your closed eyes.

"Because," You muttered, opening your eyes again to meet his, "I don't know what you're thinking."

He hummed in response, his eyes locking with yours as you opened them again. He knew that even though you had been together for quite some time now, there were still some insecurities that lingered here and there.

His gaze was still soft, his thumb still tracing little circles on your cheek.

"God forbid a man just wants to look at his beautiful girlfriend in peace," he told you, the corners of his lips turning up in a small smirk as he spoke.

Your heart gave a little flutter at his word choice. The man never grew tired of calling you his girlfriend, and it always made you a little bashful—even in the late hours of the night, under the cover of the darkness.

A small smirk appeared on your face, feeling the heat begin to rise to your cheeks, "Shut it," you mumbled, closing your eyes again to hide the flustered expression on your face, "You're such a sap."

He smiled as he noticed the flush creeping onto your cheeks, feeling a little smug at his effect on you

"Mmm, I love it when you whisper sweet nothings to me," he sweetly sighed out in sarcasm, his hand leaving your cheek and his arms wrapped themselves around your body, pulling you into him so that your face was in his neck again, "You're so romantic, baby".

You could hear the grin in his words and knew instantly that he was teasing you. Before you could respond, your face was suddenly pressed into the skin of his neck. You breathed in the scent of his skin—a warm, masculine scent mixed with cologne that was a little musky, sweet, and just so him.

You pulled back from his neck to playfully scold him with a glare,  "You're an idiot."

He let out a mock groan at your words, his eyes closing in mock-pleasure and he tilted his head back slightly, "Oh, keep going, love, m' almost there."

"That's it, you're getting kicked off the bed," you said, trying to sound stern through the hint of amusement in your voice.

[darlingdesire]

X-Ray

(Elijah Hewson x female!Reader)

Warnings: none

Genre: very very fluffy it might make you sick

Word Count: 1k

Des Talks!!: ok I loved writing this one so much AHHH!! simple little drabble imagine things are always my favourites to write. Anyways, requests are open—I write for bobby and Eli!! 💗

The day that you had left you feeling tired—but a good kind of tired. The kind of tired where you curl up in bed at the end of the day, all freshly showered and clean, and finally replay the moments in your head over and over before sleep finally captures you.

Summer had been treating you well so far.

Inhaler was on a short break before they headed on their Australian leg of the tour, and you and Eli had decided to take this opportunity to your advantage and go to the Maldives for a week.

Sure, you followed Elijah on tour when you could and got to see parts of the world, but you never stayed in these places long enough to actually take the time to enjoy it. And plus, you were never really alone like the two of you were now.

It was summer heaven. Pure bliss.

The two of you booked out a small, private villa. You didn't need to stay anywhere big since it was just the two of you. Your villa was secluded away from other guests and even had its own little pool that overlooked the pretty, blue ocean.

You had arrived yesterday morning, settled in and went out for dinner at a local restaurant—very romantic. And the two of you slept in this morning, you had woken up at your own time with your legs tangled together and a full head of dark, curly hair resting on your chest; soft, gentle breaths against the skin of your neck as Eli slept soundly. You were wrapped up in your own bubble of bliss.

You spent the rest of the day exploring the local area, looking at markets and buying random little things that would remind you of your time with Eli in the Maldives. And there was a pretty little bracelet dangled on your wrist, gifen to you by Elijah to prove it.

You were sprawled out on the large lounge chair, a lounge chair that was big enough to fit you and Elijah. He, of course, decided to ignore the space which was more than happy to fit him, and decided to lay on top of you—a position much like the position you guys were in when you woke up this morning.

You were holding your book up with one hand, reading it contently. Elijah, on the other hand, was close to falling asleep—actually, you had no clue if he was even awake or sleep as you gently played with his curls. His face was in your neck, his body curled into yours as you basked in the setting sun. It was a gorgeous sight, the horizon was painted in gorgeous hues of pink, purple, and dark blue. The night sky was beginning to evolve right in front of your eyes. You felt so lucky.

"Mm,"

Eli sleepily groaned as he cuddled up tighter against you, his face burying itself into the curve of your neck. His arms wrapped around you, arms around your waist, hands gripping the skin of your waist loosely.

He inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of you as he pulled you in closer and nuzzled his face lazily into your skin. He was warm. Very warm, he always was. Warmth and safety.

You smiled softly at him, taking your hand out of his hair and instead rested it mindlessly against his shoulder; holding him closer to you as you assumed he had fallen asleep.

"Don't stop playin' with me hair," Elijah murmured softly, proving your assumptions wrong.

"Bossy," You murmured back lazily, a gentle smile pulling your lips up as you complied with his demands; putting your fingers back into his hair to resume playing with the dark curls.

"Notin' wrong with being bossy now 'n then," Eli muttered back, his words muffled against the skin of your neck.

He pressed his lips softly against your neck, his lips moving upwards until they found their way to the sensitive area right below your ear. He pressed a few soft kisses against the skin, feeling the way your skin would erupt into little bumps whenever his lips landed on a certain, favorite spot of his.

You shivered under his touch, feeling the sweet kisses mark your neck; soft electricity sparked brightly under your skin where his lips touched. His hand in your waist was moving lazily, gripping ever so slightly as he caressed your smooth skin.

"This is perfect," You muttered out into the warm, summer air; speaking your thoughts out loud.

"Mm, it is," Eli echoed in agreement, his breath warm against your skin. "I could get used to this, you know. Bein' on holiday with you. It's heaven,"

He wanted to get insanely close to you—he didn't know how to explain it, but no matter how close he was to you; fully wrapped up in you with your bodies pressed together and faces in each others necks, he thought about how much space was still between the two of you. He would chain himself to your soul if he could—and even then, that still wouldn't be enough for him.

It drove him mad.

He was at his most when he was with you. He adored moments like this where he could just lay with you, no phones and no distractions. He treasured this. He couldn't let time slip away from him—he would be killing himself if he let moments like this slip away and not take a moment away from everything to embrace this time with you. He would grow old with you like this, just completely and utterly wrapped in each other's souls.

He pressed one final soft kiss against the skin of your neck before pulling himself up, just enough so his chin was resting on the top of your chest. He peered up at you with sleepy eyes; a small smile on his face as he studied your features, his thumb gently stroking the skin of your side idly.

And then you smiled up at him.

He didn't know if Heaven existed or not, but if it did then it definitely felt like this. And if it did exist, he knew he would be transported back to this time with you. The two of you would be like this forever.

[darlingdesire]

Your turn

(Bobby Skeetz x female!reader)

Warnings: none

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 892

Des Talks!!: I LOVE BOBBY SKEETZ also, I have no clue how to play chess I may have gotten some thing terribly wrong 😔😔 don't forget that my requests are open!! I write for Bobby and Eli 💗

They were sat criss-cross in front of each other on floor, the soft carpet beneath them as they attempted to set up a game of chess. Bobby had taken it upon himself to try and read the instructions on how to play and explain the game to y/n as she put the pieces in the correct squares—copying the image on the chess board box.

They had gone to the local car boot sale today, something that they loved doing together on Sunday mornings, as they always found fun little nick nacks to take home—and the chess had caught y/n's eye, so obviously they had to take it home.

Mind you, they had never played a game of chess in their life, so this should be interesting.

"There's a piece missing," Y/n pointed out with a slight frown, lifting the box lid to see if the pawn was hiding underneath it.

Bobby kept his gaze on the little book, reading the instructions still as he replied, "Sorry, I got hungry," He joked with a blank look and tone of voice, more interested in figuring out how the bloody game worked, "are you sitting on it?"

Y/n rolled her eyes at his suggestion, "No, I don't think so—" She said before she shuffled a little to see if he was right, and there was the missing piece right under her folded legs, "—oh."

She grabbed the piece and looked up at Bobby, noticing the small smirk on his lips as he read the page. She placed the pawn piece on the empty spot and leaned back on her arms, gazing at the man across from her as she waited for him to be done with reading.

"You look like a nerd," She pointed out after a few seconds of silence, a gentle smile on her face as she teased him.

He paused and raised his gaze, a smirk plastered across his face.

"I'd rather be a nerd than a loser," Bobby replied, jokingly, "Because at least I'll know how to play this game."

"Dont be like that," Y/n said, giving him a sweet and innocent look as she lifted her leg and moved it toward her boyfriend; trying to reach him and playfully nudge her with her fluffy sock covered foot, "It's a good thing I like my men nerdy, tall, and have the same name as a grandpa."

Bobby playfully batted her away before grabbing her foot and holding it in place. He then lightly pinched the underside of it, smirking as he looked at her.

"Dont make me rip your sock off," He teased lightly, pinching the top of her sock—causing her to quickly retract her foot back and save her sock from becoming a victim of violence.

"Okay, come on, lets play," She chirped, straightening up in her spot on the floor, "Do you go first or do I go first?" She asked, glancing up from the game and to Bobby.

He shrugged indifferently, putting the instructions down, "Ladies first," He said, gesturing to the chess board. He was the player with the white pieces, and she was the player with the black pieces.

He had read in the pamphlet that the player with the white pieces were supposed to go first... but he was open to this exception to let his girl go first.

Y/n bit down on her bottom lip, tugging it slightly as she looked at the first row. She decided to start with the pawn that had been missing—making the first move of the game and looked up at Bobby expectantly, waiting for him to make his move.

Bobby studied the board for a moment before reaching out and moving a piece. He wasn't too sure if his first move was a good one or a bad one, he was just going with the flow.

Basically, he moved the same piece she moved; their two pawn pieces facing eachother.

"Your turn," He smiled up at her.

They continued to play, not knowing who was winning or who was losing—Bobby had manged to remember parts of the proper rules, and would correct Y/n when she did something wrong. And at some point they had just decided to start making their own rules with their own concept of chess.

And eventually, the few pieces he had left managed to circle the king.

Bobby looked up at y/n with a smirk, a silent brag at how he had just beat her at chess. "I beat you. What do I win, then?"

Y/n sighed down at the board game, looking at the set-up in defeat and looked back up at Bobby.

"Is this the part where you knock over the pieces, climb over to me and we start snogging?" She questioned jokingly, referencing the scene in one of the Twilight movies that they watched for shits and gigs the other night.

"Of course, obviously," He gave a nod, a smirk still on his face—he didn't really want to get up, he was too comfy to move.

…And also because his back hurt, but he didn't want to admit that and be called an old man by her again.

"Although," He added thoughtfully, "I won, so you might have to be the one to come over here..."

[darlingdesire]

hiya love! i have a bobby request for you, if you don't mind

reader is inhaler's photographer and it's super obvious she has a massive crush on bobby. the entire crew (including him lmao dickhead) tease her for it.

one night at a bar this really hot cool rockstar girlfriend kinda girl hits on bobby and reader sees it and gets jealous. bobby makes a joke and reader gets upset thinking he's making fun of her because the other girl was obvi way cooler than her.

cue a soft little moment where he comforts her, maybe a kiss? 🥺💗

When It Breaks

(Bobby Skeetz x female!reader)

Warnings: none!!

Genre: fluff, angst (omggggg)

Word count: 6.9k wtf

Des Talks!!: okay woah. My first ever Bobby fic and I think I have outdone myself. This is one of my favourites so far and i’ve kind of ended it in a way where there could be a part 2 to this. Thank you so much for requesting this as well anon!! It was such an amazing idea and I’m so glad I get to bring it to life WOOOOOOO!!!!! I really hope this is kind of what you were hoping for 💝 (I may have gotten a little carried away oops ) also get your requests and ideas in whilst its hot 🫶

"You comin' out tonight, right?"

She turned her head at the sound of his voice, her gaze moving from the camera which she was packing away; the camera which had loads of photos of him and the band—85% of which were professional which she would have to edit later and post, and the 15% were random moments taken of him. She saw him in a different kind of light when she had the camera up to her face; she could capture him in a frozen photo and store it forever. Not the man who played bass on stage for hundreds of people, but the boy who who had managed to steal her heart and lock away. Much like a photo, captured forever.

Bobby Skeetz had no idea—well, he did... her liking to him was painfully obvious to everyone, one slip-up a few months ago for a lifetime of teasing.

"You guys going out then?" She inquired, a sweet smile appearing on her face; the once concentrated look she had as she packed her cameras away in silence was no longer there.

Inhaler had just finished playing a show. It was grand; the crowd was one of the best they have had so far, and she could tell that the guys were still at the peak of their high; adrenaline and excitement all around. She was there to see it all, she saw the intimate crowds, the boring crowds, the loud crowds; she was there to see the crowds grow bigger and bigger, her joy only expanding each time she saw the size of the venues. She had been the band's photographer for a few years now, she could pretty much say these years have been the best of her life—she could only imagine how Bobby was feeling.

He leaned against the edge of the table as she started to pack her camera away into her bag, looking down at the camera in her hand, then back up at her, her soft features bringing another sweet, boyish smile onto his face. In all honesty, he wasn't sure if he was smiling because he was so amused by her or what. Probably both.

"Yeah," he answered, his Irish accent thick in his words. "I don't know about you, but I think we deserve a few drinks after that."

She looked back down at what she doing, feeling a fluttering of nerves rush up her body at the attention—she couldn't help it, she felt nervous everytime he would look at her, she wanted so desperately to know what he was thinking when he looked at her. She zipped the protective case up, sealing the camera and all the memories away for later; "It was a killer crowd, wasn't it," She muttered out, her words soft but laced with such pride, "I dunno, Bobby—I went out last night."

She couldn't help but feel satisfaction knowing he had asked her himself to join them at the pub tonight—okay, it wasn't abnormal for him to seek her out after a show and ask, most of the time it was brought up when they were in the group and she would be bugged and pestered by the guys until she had to say yes. But she enjoyed when he asked her; she wouldn't tell anyone, but she would pretend to seem tired or decline just so he could keep asking her with a pleading look on his face.

"And you don't want to go out again?" His tone was playful, trying his best to tempt her to go. He didn't know why, but it was the best part about going out after a show - he knew she always came. He could ask, and she would say yes, but it was so much sweeter to tempt her into going. "I'll buy you a drink—one of those gross fruity spritz you like or whatever that shit is."

She gave him a sarcastic pointed look at his dig on her choice of alcohol, earning a smirky grin from him. She watched the way the smile lit up his face, how it reached his eyes and caused them to close a little. Oh, how she wished she didn't pack her camera away so she could take a photo of it. She wouldn't share it with the world, no, she would keep it hidden away in her digital memory bank. Instead, she took a mental image of the sight of him leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, with his hair messy and falling over his face.

Ok, stop looking at him like a creep.

She stood up straighter, turning her body towards him now with her bag of equipment in her hand; he waited for an answer, his brows raised slightly in open hope that her answer would be yes.

"One drink," She finally complied, raising her hand with a pointed finger to set her words in stone, "and it's a pornstar martini I've been liking at the moment, thank you very much."

That boyish smirk turned into a full blown grin at her compliance, giving a soft, pleased 'tsk' noise as he stood up a little straighter, pushing himself off of the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. He could have just let her come like she always did, but it was so much better to push her into wanting to go. Plus, it was just another excuse to talk to her, be closer.

"A pornstar martini? Really? Didn't know you liked pornstars," He said with a small chuckle, his tone clearly teasing.

She rolled her eyes at him, walking towards the open door where he stood, "Yeah—love when I have a good pornstar," she played along with it, deadpanning him as she passed by him and stepped out into the hallway; her cheeks flushing red at the conversation, and she willed herself to calm down.

He watched her walk past him, his eyes following only after, a humorous and amused smile on his face at her comeback. "Thought it was only bass-players you loved," He followed, a few steps behind, his gaze falling onto the top of her head now, watching her from behind. He was taller, and the fact he was tall was quite obvious, his long legs easily catching up to her short ones.

He was glad her back was facing him now because he couldn't stop the small, amused chuckle from falling out of his mouth at her now-red cheeks.

She felt dread fill her body when she heard his comeback, her mouth went try and it felt like she had cotton in it. She swallowed nervously. He sometimes teased her about the crush she had on him; she didn't know if she preferred it if he was silent about it and never regarding her feelings for him, or if she preferred it if he was openly able to tease her about it. Either way, it felt as though he was tossing her feelings aside.

She decided to stay quiet.

She knew he was following behind her, and she couldn't help but feel as though she had a hit on her. God, please don't trip, don't you dare trip… She repeated in her mind as she walked, she hated and loved the pressure of his attention being on her; analysing her and perceiving her.

He knew she was nervous, and he could almost hear her thoughts spinning around in her head now, trying to process the situation. He felt a tad amused by the whole thing—how after a few years, she still got all awkward around him. Cute.

His gaze drifted to the way she was walking in front of him, clearly trying her hardest to walk confidently and he knew, one wrong step and she was going to trip. The thought brought a small smirk onto his face as he watched her every step, and then, that said wrong step happened.

"Oh—Fuck," She blurted out when the ugly-looking carpet stopped her shoe from letting her walk properly; the stupid kind of carpet that caused you to trip up because of the rough material. Luckily she had caught herself, and scowled down at the floor; wanting to do nothing more than stomp her foot down onto it a few times for tripping her up in front of Bobby.

She had a knack for tripping and bumping into things. It wasn't new, wasn't something Bobby had never seen before; it was another thing he teased her about. She knew it was light-hearted and that he would never shame her for being so clumsy sometimes, but she just wished she didn't look so silly sometimes.

"You're so graceful," He teased, still stood a few steps behind. There was a playful tone to the remark, along with a light chuckle at the failed attempt to stay dignified. It was clear that this was a regular occurrence as she had tripped numerous times before his eyes.

His gaze was fixated on her, watching her as she scolded the carpet, like it was the carpet's fault that she tripped when it was actually hers.

"Shut up. It was the carpets fault," She turned her head to look at him, an uncontrollable smile lifted her lips up at the humour of it. He sent her a cheeky look and finally caught up with her, using the opportunity of her stopping to finally walk beside her. They continued to walk down the hall together, and she kept on shrugging the bag strap up onto her shoulder every time it started slipping down. After the 3rd time, she felt a gentle tug on the strap and she turned her head to see that Bobby was lifting the bag off her to take.

"Here," he spoke, taking the strap from her as they walked. "I'll take it," he added as the strap was now in his hand, a warm smile taking over his face. He knew she struggled with the strap slipping off her shoulders, but he knew she would have kept on adjusting the strap until it was perfect, and even then, it would probably slip again.

He was being chivalrous—more than normal--and it was more for the fact that he wanted to be closer to her.

She pursed her lips together in a way to force the bashful grin away at his helpfulness, "Thanks."

They left the venue through the back and made their way to her tour bus; the one she had made her home for the past two years. He was in a separate one with all the other boys. Their door was always open for her, and she found herself in their bus more than she was in hers. Their dynamics were perfect; she considered Inhaler her close friends more than she was their photographer. After all, they were all eachother had out on the road.

Bobby set her equipment down on her bunk, not missing the chance to send her a look at the way she left her bed messy. She had rolled her eyes at him, saying; "I'd like to see your bed then, Skeetz," her words seeming more innocent in her head than how they sounded when she said them out loud.

"Yeah, you'd like to see that, wouldn't ya'," He muttered with a smirk; not missing a chance to tease her again.

Her innocent words weren't innocent at all. His mind —and he is almost certain hers (but she would never admit it)—immediately went to somewhere else at the words, the thought of his own messy, unmade bed crossing his mind for a spilt second. "and, by the way, my bed is actually made," he responded quickly with a raise of his brows, his gaze flickering to her unmade bed for a moment before turning back to her; he was telling the truth, his bed was made. Neatly. He was waking up in a good mood these past few months—some could say he was waking up on the right side of the bed.

A newfound optimistic feeling had found him, and he loved it; he was excited when he got up in the mornings (ever since he found out his little photographer fancied him, but he wasn't going to admit that)

She gave him a look as she closed the curtain, separating the two of them from the sight of her messy bed, "yeah, yeah," she muttered and turned on her heel away from him, leading them out of the bunk area and back into the main area toward the open door.

Jack, the social media guy who had joined the tour a while ago stepped into the bus; his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. He said a quick hello, his smile sweet as he placed a warm hand on her shoulder as he walked by the two of them. She had become friends with Jack, he was a good guy and the band liked him. (but she never caught on to the looks Bobby gave Jack everytime he would see her with him.)

His gaze immediately narrowed as he watched Jack place a hand on her shoulder; the sight didn't leave him with a good feeling. He could've sworn his eyes burned into the back of Jack's head as he walked right by them and out of the bus.

A strange, bitter feeling swirled around inside his chest and then his mind immediately went to an unreasonable place—he wasn't exactly sure why he was always so territorial, especially now.

He followed her out of the bus, not paying any mind to extend the invitation out to Jack. He secretly wanted her to himself tonight, as friends, of course....

They clambered into the car with the rest of the waiting guys—who had just finished meeting fans out back and taking pictures with them—they were still in the clothes they were wearing on stage, too eager and excited to get to the pub with everyone for a round of drinks.

Bobby sat next to her, of course. The two of them were in the very back of the 7-seater car as the rest of the guys were in the middle with the 3 seats.

The car was immediately filled with conversation, and they started heading toward the pub that was suggested by a local fan.

She had no trouble involving herself into their conversation, it was rather easy actually since she felt more than comfortable around them.

Bobby sat in silence for most of the ride to the pub, only joining in on the conversation now and then. His mind was somewhere else, mostly, and a couple times, his gaze was on her, just watching her. Watching the way she interacted with the others, listening to every single word that came out of her mouth.

He drew on the foggy window, looking over at her once he had finished the little drawing. A smirk stretched out on his face as he pointed it out to her, "It's you," he said with a nod, proud of his little drawing.

She looked at his drawings in the window, her heart almost exploding out of her chest at the fact he made a little stick figure of her in the window.

"Oh wow," She grinned uncontrollably, a little act seemed so big in her mind and she kept repeating how it was probably nothing and that she was just thinking too much into it, "You captured me perfectly."

His smirk grew into a full blown, amused smile as she gawked over his little drawing in the window. She was so easy to read.

He looked back at the window, his attention now diverted on creating another stick figure next to the one of her, "I know I did, I'm good like that," he responded jokingly, a small chuckle leaving his mouth.

They finally reached the pub and they all started clambering out of the big car; she found it amusing watching four grown men try and climb out the car whilst trying to be graceful and not bang their heads against the roof. She made sure to get a photo of Bobby with his window drawings; he had posed for it with a his thumb up and big goofy smile as he carefully leaned his head next to the window, not wanting to rub his hair against the condensation and ruin his drawings.

They made their way into the dimly-lit pub and found an available curved booth to sit at with their drinks. Josh was sat next to her, and they browsed the drinks menu together. It was more like a bar they were at, but whatever it was it was nice and underground; relatively busy too.

Elijah was on her other side, and Bobby was sitting next to him. Ryan had gone straight to use the bathroom, as he had been complaining most of the drive about it.

The pub was lively, filled to the brim with people, but the music was at the right decibel to allow a normal conversation, and that's exactly what the group was doing.

Bobby leaned back against the booth, arms draped along the back of it, listening to the conversations going on around him. His gaze eventually flickered over to her. He could hear her laughing with Josh as the two of them picked out drinks. He felt a small tug pull at his chest, but he ignored it.

Just then, Ryan arrived back at the table, taking his seat, "I took longer in the bathroom so I wouldn't have to wait for drinks to get here," He joked, rolling his eyes as he sat down next to Josh.

"You sure that was the reason?" Bobby teased, smirking at his words and earning a mock laugh from Josh who then reached over the table at him and whilst pretending to claim he didn't wash his hands; causing Bobby to lean back and let out a groan in disgust.

"Ya' filthy, Ryan," He told him and got up out of the booth, looking over at everyone; his eyes landing right on hers, "you're coming with me. Promised I'd get you a drink, didn't I."

She was in a conversation with Elijah—a conversation about who knows what—she had completely lost her train of thought as soon as she noticed him getting up. She looked over at him, locking gazes as he gestured over to her.

A small feeling of nervousness filled her chest as she knew what was coming, and she tried her best to push it away. It was just a drink.

"Oh, yeah," She spoke, smiling at Bobby before turning to Elijah, "back in a sec."

She had to go past Elijah to get out, lucky that there was a decent gap between the table and the booth seats as she carefully stepped out of it.

"You all want a Guinness, yes?" She turned her head to look at the guys, earning some yes' and grateful nods in response.

Bobby waited for her to make the move to the bar, and the two of them went over together; waiting patiently to be served. She took the time to scan the pub/bar/whatever it was, taking in the comfortable scenery. It was very cool. The place had exposed brick walls and had old antiques littered around on display—a nice mix of old and new.

A bartender came up to the two of them not long after and Bobby took the lead in ordering drinks for everyone. Her eyes landed on a small group of women by a table, they were dressed beautifully—one girl in particular caught her eye though, and it seemed as though hers had caught Bobby. She was looking over at him with an interested gaze—a curious one, one that had y/n turning around toward the bar where their drinks were being made. Her back now toward the group so she wouldn't have to see the look that one girl was giving him.

She turned her head to look up at Bobby, seeing how he didn't even pay any mind to the girls who were ogling him. He was simply watching the bartender, tapping his fingers against the wooden bar mindlessly. He looked down at her when he felt her gaze in him, and he sent her a small, instinctive smile before looking back at the bartender.

She suddenly felt like a deflated balloon; insecurity washing over her and diminishing her high.

She was used to girls checking Bobby out, and she had no right to feel insecure or jealous. She was just like all the other girls who had a silly little crush on him. It wouldn't lead anywhere. 

He would notice her looking at him and not pay any mind to it; maybe he was only teasing her about it in order to push it away, because he had to so it wouldn't be weird between them.

"You good?" She heard him ask, she had been staring down at the wooden bar for a few seconds with a distant look; and he had noticed.

She put on a smile and lifted her head to reach his eyes, "Yeah, m' grand," she told him cheerily; though the feeling in her mind said otherwise, hopefully he wouldn't notice that and see through her lies.

"You should try a different drink one day; a Guiness must get boring after a while," She said, trying to alter the conversation.

He chuckled in response at her comment, a small smirk forming on his face now, "Guiness never gets boring, love," he replied, his gaze flickering over down to her.

He could sense a change in her mood, noticing how lost in thought she had been.

The drinks were finally made and they made their way to take them back to the booth where the guys were waiting. She couldn't help but take a quick peek at the group of girls to see that that one girl was still watching Bobby.

She swallowed hard, trying to push down the feelings as she and Bobby got to the booth. A few more people from the crew had joined the booth and were chatting away with everyone. Jack was there. He had patted the open space next to him and budged over a little bit, there was only space left for and she put the drinks down on the table before sittinf down next to him. Bobby watched as he found himself next to Ryan, his eyes lingering on Jack and y/n in front of him.

A bitter feeling settled in his chest he watched her sit next to Jack. He didn't know why, but it always bothered him when she talked to him, or sat next to him, or just spent time with him.

He took the last empty seat next to Ryan, trying to distract himself from his thoughts. The group went on with their conversations, but he found himself tuning out. His eyes always found their way back to her. His gaze lingered on her for a while before she looked up, meeting it. He quickly averted his eyes, focusing on the glass in his hand instead.

They kept sharing looks, their eyes catching one another every now and then as they listened to people talk, or when one of them was talking and looked at the other—as if they were speaking to just eachother. After the drinks were all finished, Ryan went to go get another round for everyone and forced Bobby to go with him for an extra pair of hands.

Y/n was content in her conversation with Josh and Elijah, talking about stuff they're going to do with their day off tomorrow. They were going to explore the city they were in, and she was going to join them and take photos. She was always welcome to join the band on their little outings, they used the fact that she needed to get content as an excuse to get her to spend time with them. It was cute.

After a while of feeling Bobby's absence, she turned her head to the bar where him and Ryan were still by. Except, Ryan was on his way back with a handful of drinks without Bobby. She glanced over Ryan's shoulder to see where Bobby was; he was still there, but he was with somebody else. The girl from the group.

She had managed to get her way over to Bobby and actually strike conversation with him. They seemed to be hitting it off well too, the girl was stood close to him with a flirty smile. Bobby was more than happy to talk to her.

Y/n couldn't help but trace her eyes over the girl; taking in the way she held herself, so confident and alluring. The girl was dressed in red and black and had a charm about her.

She sunk in her seat and looked away from them; feeling all sorts of ways. Insecure, jealous. All these feelings that she—again—had no right to feel. She was silly to compare herself to the girl, but she still couldn't stop it from happening.

She raised her glass to her lips, taking a sip of her pornstar martini—suddenly wishing she had something stronger.

"You're not very subtle with your staring," Ryan told her in a quieter voice than normal, he was relaxed back into his seat with his arms crossed lazily over his chest and a knowing look on his face.

She looked at him with wide eyes at his straight-forwardness, and glanced around at the other people in the seats to make sure they didn't hear Ryan.

"I was looking at the bottles. God, forbid a girl wants to look at the products," She told him, motioning her head to the bottles of alcohol on display behind the bar, clearly lying—which he could see through.

She was so obvious with her staring, her jealousy, her pining. It was written all over her face, and Ryan could see it from a mile away.

He rolled his eyes at her failed attempt at an excuse, sighing as he leaned closer to her, "No, you were staring at Bobby."

She gave him a blank look, rolling up one of the napkins into a tiny ball and threw it at him as a lame attempt to get him to shut up. She knew her cheeks were flushing red, she could feel the heat and the shy-ness flooding through her.

"I hope you choke on your chips," She said to him, glancing down at his bowl of hot chips.

He chuckled in response, swatting the napkin out of the way, "yeah, yeah, yeah."

He knew he had gotten to her now, and there was no turning back for him. It was too entertaining to tease her, and knowing how she felt about Bobby made it even more amusing to poke at her.

He raised an eyebrow at her, a sly smirk on his face, "Why don't you go over there and tell that girl to back off?"

Y/n's face fell, deadpanning him again with a blank expression, "Oh, yeah," She nodded slowly, musing his stupid suggestion, "No."

He grinned, clearly enjoying himself,  "Why not? You'd rather sit here and mope in jealousy?"

She scowled at him and leaned forward in her seat, finally reacting quick to shut his false (clearly right) assumptions down, "I'm not jealous—" she began to fire out.

"What is she jealous of?" Bobby's voice suddenly cut her off, he had somehow weaselled his way over without her noticing and set the rest of the drinks down on the table; glancing between Ryan and Y/n for an answer.

"Nothing," She quickly said, sinking back into her seat and giving Ryan a warning look as Bobby sat down next to him.

Ryan smirked, he could see it right through her, and he knew that he couldn't keep his mouth shut in this situation; he had the right reasons, (he was sick and tired of watching y/n pine over Bobby without doing anything about it—right reasons, wrong method of execution)

"She's jealous of the girl you were talking to at the bar," he bluntly informed Bobby, his gaze drifting to Y/n to find her shooting daggers at him. Her cheeks were even more red now.

Bobby's brows raised at the information, and he looked at her reddening face with a growing smirk; and she prepared herself for his response. She wanted to smack Ryan across the head—she was completely over the teasing. It was fun and fine at first, but after a while it just started hurting. Her feelings were being laughed at and mocked, and if he didn't like the fact that she fancied him then he could just tell her instead of teasing her about it.

"You know you're the only girl for me, love. No need for jealousy," He said to y/n with a smirk—teasing her, yet again...

Ryan rolled his eyes at the interaction, feeling amused by the whole thing. He was tempted to smack him and her upside the head for being so unbelievably stupid for not noticing the obvious fact that Bobby just couldn't get the hint—the hint to do something about it. Ryan wasn't dumb, he could sense the feelings Bobby had for y/n. He had just hoped that by now, the blonde-headed idiot would swallow his fears down and ask the damn girl out.

Y/n huffed, feeling flustered at the words and his teasing, "Don't call me love," She spoke to him, her tone annoyed yet light in mockery as she rose from her seat.

The two guys watched as she snatched her small bag off the table in haste and started walking away from everyone, toward the exit.

"Nice going, idiot," Ryan was the first to say something, looking at his friend with a roll of his eyes.

"What?! You're the idiot, idiot," Bobby exclaimed, completely baffled at the response. Ryan was the one who initiated the entire thing.

"No—You're the idiot," Ryan scoffed, shaking his head. "She's a complete goner for you, and you're too much of a pussy to do anything about it," He angled his body toward his friend, speaking lowly so that the other guys at the table wouldn't hear, "You either tell her you're not interested—which you are, I can tell—and drop the whole thing, or you tell her you want her as much as she wants you," Ryan explained, holding his finger up and pointing it at him to assert his point.

He saw the moment Bobby's face changed from confusion to a more softer one. His eyes were casted down onto the table, clearly thinking about the whole situation in his head. He felt awful.

He was stunned into silence for a few moments as he thought on Ryan's words.

He stared at the table, his mind deep in thought, almost to the point where he forgot that people were still around them. He didn't want to face any facts. He knew he had feelings for her, he knew that—but why was Ryan making it sound easier than it really was.

Bobby shook his head slowly, lifting his gaze back up to Ryan; words tumbling out of him, "It's not that simple, mate," he protested, "Have you thought about what would happen if things ended badly? Don't forget she's our photographer."

Ryan scoffed, his disbelief at the statement growing. "Mate, she's also the one person that can put up with your stupid arse," he reminded him, his tone now firm and annoyed, as he leaned forward in his seat, "You're telling me that you'd rather keep all the stupid feelings bottled away in that thick skull of yours, not make a move, and then miss the opportunity to have her?"

Bobby side-eyed Ryan for the insult, and then let out a deep sigh; saying nothing as he straightened up in his seat and looked toward the exit. Maybe he should man up and go out there—but he felt like such a fool. What would she even say? He used humour to help in situations, and so of course he did the same for this one. Maybe he dug himself too deep. All the months worth of making fun of her for her crush on him were coming back to bite him in the arse.

"Okay," He muttered quietly to himself more than to Ryan, shifting a little as he climbed out of the booth and began to head toward to exit.

He paid no attention to the girl from the bar as he walked by her table—even so, she didn't even make a move on him whilst they were talking. It was friendly chatting, and so when he came back to the table to find out y/n was jealous—you could say he was over the moon and handled it in a shitty way.

Meanwhile, y/n had found herself stood on the sidewalk outside of the bar. Not too far away, but just enough distance to be able to clear her head and think things through. She was overthinking what just happened, she went over it so many times in her head and deemed her actions dramatic and childish. Maybe she should have been the one to tell him and everyone she didn't like it when they teased her about her crush; but a slither of her enjoyed it because it was some sort of acknowledgment of it on Bobby's side.

She was in her own little world, mindlessly looking at the array of random posters on the wall when in the corner of her eye; Bobby showed up next to her.

She must have been deep in thought as she failed to notice his presence right away, so he stood next to her in silence as he watched her and studied her every move. He saw her looking at the walls, admiring the art that covered them, before his gaze fell to the ground, and his thoughts started to swirl around in his head.

He took a deep breath to calm himself down. He wasn't supposed to feel like this, he was supposed to be just like any other boy that got the girl, and yet here he was—acting like a love-struck teen and struggling to get the right words out.

"I'm sorry," He finally spoke up, not knowing what to say. He had gone over it in his head during his quick walk to find her, he had made a defend script in his head but it all suddenly went out the window when he was finally next to her.

His voice startled her at first, causing her to flinch for a split second, before she turned her head to look at him. He looked nervous. She could see it in his eyes and the way he looked away from her.

She didn't know how to respond straight away; she felt her words stuck in her throat as she stared at him for a long moment before opening her mouth, "What are you apologising for..?"

"For being stupid," He said, his eyes flickered back and forth between the two of hers. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jackets, feeling his mouth dry as a bundle of nerves ran through him. He took a step closer, and she angled her body towards his at the closer proximity; no longer looking at the art work on the wall.

"I just... I really really like you, y/n," He continued, emphasising the 'really' with a furrow of his brows; but his words must have reached her ears differently and her concept of them sounded like he was about to friend zone her.

She nodded, turning her head to look away from him and back toward the wall, "...As a friend," she finished the rest of his sentence, feeling the knot of sadness form in her throat. Don't cry, don't cry, stupid don't cry you're not 14.

"No, no," Bobby quickly exclaimed as she had misheard him. He reached out with one of his hands, gently taking hold of her chin to guide it back to look at him, "No, not as a friend—as more than that."

He saw her face soften at his clarification, and he allowed a small smile to form on his face as she took in his words, her eyes fixed on him. She looked so pretty.

"What?" She asked in utter confusion, his words were a mind bog—after months of him making fun of her and teasing her for her crush on him, he goes and tells her he feels the same way. Doubt crosses her mind, even though he is smiling so sweetly at her, "Look, I don't know if this is just another joke to make fun of me or if you're saying that because you feel bad. You're confusing me, Bobby."

Bobby shook his head, his heart clenching in his chest as he saw doubt and skepticism in her eyes. She didn't believe him. "No, no, no," he muttered, cupping her face in both his hands, keeping her gaze on him.

"I promise I'm not playing with you, I'm not messing with you. I'm telling you the truth," He looked into her eyes, not looking away for even one second as his thumbs slowly started to trace her features; his touch feather-like.

She almost melted at his touch, but she still couldn't wrap her head around the whole ordeal. They say women were confusing, but maybe it was actually men who were more confusing.

"Then they would you tease me about it for months. I don't understand why. Why did it take you this long to tell me," She asked him, frowning even more as she searched his eyes for the truth.

He sighed, letting go of her face with both hands as he ran one through his hair, "I don't know, I guess I was too scared. Because this is a big deal," he explained, a hint of a nervous laugh escaping his mouth as he pushed his hands back into his pocket.

"You're our photographer. I didn't want to face it and have things be awkward if it never worked out between us and you had to end up quitting because of it," he explained, his gaze shifting all over the place as he tried to keep calm, "I like you too much—I like having you around with the guys, I like having you with me."

"I wouldn't quit because of that," she responded to his words with a scoff and a roll of her eyes, acting as if it was a ridiculous idea.

"So... what are we gonna do?" her voice was softer now, her shoulders slumping slightly as her eyes lifted to find his again.

"I guess that depends on what you want us to be," He responded with a shrug, and he leaned in closer toward her, his voice grew quieter; "Because I know exactly what I want to be."

Her breath stopped in her throat when she noticed he was leaning in closer, and suddenly; everything in the world stilled as she gazed into his eyes. "Bobby..." She breathed out quietly, she didn't know if it was a question, a statement, or whatever... its all she managed to mutter out.

She looked so beautiful in this second. His mind went blank as he got lost in her eyes, the way her lips moved when she said his name was addicting.

He lifted his hand up from his pocket again, gently brushing a lose strand of her hair, "Can I kiss you?" He whispered ever so sweetly.

Shock waves flooded her entire system at his words, not knowing if she imagined that he said that or if she misheard him. She didn't know what would happen between them after this, she didn't know if it would develop into a relationship, but all she knew was that something would completely change between them if their lips connected.

But right now she didn't care if tomorrow they didn't speak to eachother at all, she didn't care if it was awkward between them when the euphoria of the moment died down and was replaced by something more serious.

After a beat, she nodded her head ever so softly and muttered out a simple; "Kiss me."

Bobby didn't hesitate. He closed the distance between them and softly connected their lips together. He cupped her cheeks in both his hands, holding her in place as he kissed her with a gentleness that made her heart beat a little faster. His lips were perfectly fitting over her bottom lip, and he almost smiled against the kiss from how utterly perfect it felt to kiss her.

It was so soft, so gentle. He held her delicately, and treated the kiss like it was such a fragile thing as if it would break if he handled it wrong.

Maybe it was the alcohol flooding through their systems that made them kiss without thinking it through. They would have to talk about it tomorrow at some point when the alcoholic haze wore of and reality settled in. And what scared them the most was not knowing if this kiss would make or break them.

[darlingdesire]

Cosy

(Elijah Hewson x Female!Reader)

Warnings: none!!

Genre: fluff

Des Talks!!: I love this one mwah don't forget to request

Elijah felt the heavy weight of the day slowly lift off his shoulders as he kicked his shoes off by the front door. They each landed somewhat next to each other, but he was too tired to care; instead, making a mental note to neatly put them away when he could be bothered later. He just needed to lay down for a while and regain the last bit of strength he had left for the day.

“M’home!” He finally managed to say, letting the girl—who he had been dying to get to since he left their warm bed this morning—know of his arrival.

He was itching to find her and clamber into her arms again; it was one of the things that got him through the day. Knowing that he had the most beautiful girl—inside and out—waiting for him with her smile that never failed to melt his heart.

No more than a second later, said girl made her presence known; “Hey,” she called out back to him, her voice was light and chirpy; and he followed the sound of it straight to their bedroom.

She was laid in bed with her phone, dressed all comfy in her pyjamas—ready for the night. He was jealous at how relaxed and cozy she looked, freshly showered and all when he had only just gotten home. It was even dark outside.

She looked up when she saw him; and he didn't miss the way her face lit up as soon as her eyes landed on him at the door.

“Hi,” She drawled out again, her voice quieter now. She was glad he was finally home, she had missed him today.

A grin easily pulled on his lips, seeing her all comfy and cozy in bed as he pushed himself off the doorframe and moved inside the bedroom at a casual pace; taking her all in with his eyes as he did.

Elijah loved how her face immediately lit up; that simple act alone was enough to relieve the tension in his shoulders, melting away the weight of the day from him as he came to a slow stop at the foot of the bed.

“You look cosy.” He replied in a quiet tone, his eyes gently roaming over her form.

She smiled proudly up at him from her position in bed. The covers were tucked up to her neck so that only her head and forearms were visible—she had dropped her phone onto her chest so she could give him her full attention. “I am cosy. I've been keeping the bed warm for you, of course. You're welcome.”

“Mm, of course.” He responded to her with a grin, slowly pulling the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes roving over her lazily with an ever-growing heat. He could feel the exhaustion beginning to fade and give way to something hotter in the pit of his stomach.

He was a little bit envious of the covers; feeling the irrational desire to be wrapped up all cozy with her rather than still standing in his day clothes. He stepped closer.

She quickly shoved her hand toward him, gesturing to halt with a raised brow; “Ah—don't even think of getting into bed yet until you've changed out of your day clothes. You know the rules.”

He stopped on command, his shoulders slumped almost comically as he playfully whined. He really wanted to clamber into that cozy bed with her, but his day clothes were beginning to bug him now that she’d mentioned it.

His mouth pulled down into a little pout, gaze still lazily roving over her as he slowly began unbuttoning his shirt.

The look on her face softened and morphed into a cheeky grin as she watched him slowly unbutton his shirt; she caught the slow smirk on his lips as he gazed down at her with low eyes.

Eli chuckled lowly, his mouth pulling into a smirk as he watched her take in the sight of him pulling his shirt open, exposing his chest. He loved the look on her face, her reaction to him was an incredible turn-on, one that seemed to heat his blood and drive him crazy.

He was suddenly reminded of the way the covers must be brushing against her skin, her body underneath their warmth. He almost groaned aloud at the thought.

He quickly shrugged on a more comfortable outfit—a pair of sweatpants and an old shirt—and hurried back to the bed in a much less sensual way than how he looked getting out of his clothes. He was bloody desperate to get into that bed.

The switch-up of how he acted when he was taking his clothes off to then almost leaping into the bed like a mad man had her laughing—her eyes crinkling with joy and adoration as she made room for him. She loved his personality; how he could be so goofy, he didn't even need to try that hard to get a laugh out of her. The dynamics between the two of them were perfect—simply, and utterly perfect.

She lifted the covers up, allowing him to slot himself right next to her and their bodies naturally folded together. He felt his body relax almost instantly when he laid his head down. He breathed in… inhaling her scent, her perfume and her body wash, and the smell of fresh laundry. He was now home. And all the weight of the day finally lifted off of his shoulders.

He sighed deeply as he laid his head down on the pillow, his body curling up next to hers out of instinct. She was warm. She was soft. She was home.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her all the way in until there was absolutely no space between them. He pressed himself against her; his leg wrapping around hers and his face coming to rest in the crook between her shoulder and her neck.

Her skin was silky smooth, and he loved the little giggle he got out of her as he nuzzled his face into the side of her throat.

“D’you feel cosy now too?” She asked, her hand coming up to the top of his head so she could start to play with his hair. A delicate smile was unconsciously painted on her face at the feeling of him.

He groaned softly, the sound of it was a mix of pleasure and satisfaction. He loved the feel of her fingers threading through his hair, and he almost purred—almost—as he responded to her with a low “Mm hmm.”

He gently pressed soft kisses to her neck, before pulling away just far enough so that he could look at her properly, “I was getting fomo. Glad m’ part of the cosy club now.”

His arm slid around her waist to hold her close, his fingers gently tracing shapes on her hip.

She couldn't help but let out a snicker at his words, “It’s great to welcome you to it,” she muttered, her eyes instinctively closing, “Now tell me about your day. Any potential hits created?”

He felt her body shake against his as she laughed, and he let out a little laugh of his own. His fingers continued their gentle stroking on her hip, his touches seemingly never-ending and yet his pace was languid and unhurried.

At her question, however, he groaned softly. “I’ve been staring down pages of lyrics all day,” he murmured, his words were slightly mumbled against her shoulder. “Can’t seem to get anything worthwhile down. Feels like everything I do is shite.”

She scowled at that, not liking the way he spoke about his art. “Hey, that's my boyfriend you're talking about—come on now,” She tsked him, her frown softening the slightest, “It will come to you soon, you just gotta give it time to develop.”

Eli chuckled softly at her scolding, the sound of it low but warm. He pulled his head up from her shoulder so he could look at her properly, his hand still tracing those lazy circles on her hip as he smiled at her.

“It just doesn’t seem to be happening this week.” He mumbled, his free hand coming up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. He adored the way her scowl was always tinged with sweetness. It never failed to amuse him. He knew she was just looking out for him.

Her gaze softened as she looked up at him, “And that's okay, just like how you can't expect a flower to grow just like that—you gotta give it room, you gotta give it love, etcetera, etcetera, or you will go mad waiting,” She brought to light, her head tilting slightly on the pillow, “You’ve done pretty good so far though for the new album—m’very proud of you and the guys. You especially but don't tell the rest of them,” She smirked at him, attempting to lighten the mood.

Her words, her look, her smirk, all of it made him smile, something fond and genuine forming on his face. He loved the way she could so effortlessly turn his mood around, taking the frustration right out of him.

“yeah?” He mused, raising a playful eyebrow up towards her, “I’m your favourite, huh?” He smirked back, a little bit of mischief appearing in the light of his eyes.

“Yeah—but just by a little bit,” She nodded, playfully teasing him as she brought her hand up and punched her fingers close together.

He gasped in faux offence at her words, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a small smile. “Just a little bit?” He repeated, feigning the hurt in his tone.

He pretended to pull away from her, a pout on his face, “all I do for you and you go and say that. I can't believe you. And you make me change before I’m allowed to get into bed to cuddle; do you know how many people would let me sit on their bed in my day clothes.”

Her face shone in joy at the banter between them, grateful that they had turned the conversation to a more happy one, “Gotta keep you humble somehow.”

He hummed at her explanation and nodded sagely, his eyes filled with mischief. “And you choose the cruelest ways.” He complained lightly, his hand still drawing patterns on her hip; his touch lingering there, as though he couldn’t keep his hands off of her.

He shifted closer to her, burying his face back into the crook of her neck, placing little kisses across her skin.

She sighed softly at the sweet feeling, her eyes fluttering shut once more as she basked in it all, “Youre gonna make me fall asleep.”

Eli chuckled softly against her skin, “Don’t fall asleep.” He mumbled, his hand leaving her hip in order to gently grasp her chin and pull her face towards his. His fingers lingered on her jaw, gently tracing the line of it as he continued to place tender kisses on her skin.

“I’ve been without you all day,” He murmured between kisses, “Please stay awake with me for a little longer.”

She hummed quietly, still not opening her eyes as she felt him kiss her lips—her lips which remained still. She lulled her head to the side, pretending to sleep; though she couldn't push away the slight smile knowing that he was looking down at her.

He let out a soft scoff when he noticed her smile, his own smirk tugging on his lips as he noticed her feigned sleep.

He gently let go of her chin, his fingers trailing back down to her hip and lightly tugging at the bottom of her shirt. “M’not stupid, you know.” He huffed softly, before leaning closer and letting his lips rest against the shell of her ear. “Can’t fool me.” He whispered.

He chuckled at her words, gently taking her hand in his and linking their fingers together. “It’s your fault for being so comfy.” He responded; a teasing smirk on his face as he gently squeezed her hand.

His free hand came up to her face, his thumb tracing the line of her cheek before cupping it in his palm. He could still lightly feel her smile on her skin. She really was something.

[darlingdesire]

wide awake

(Elijah Hewson x female!reader)

Warnings: none

Genre: fluff

Word count: 3483

Des talks!: my first eli fic woooooo!!!! I've been an inhaler fan for years but have never gotten round to writing for Elijah but I have been wanting to for ages omg. This is basically just a random fluff imagine where they just ramble and talk, nothing special. I am taking requests for Eli and Rob, so go ahead and send them in because I would love to write your ideas!! (p.s I haven't written anything in a year and so I’m a bit rusty oops)

Letting out a heavy sigh, Eli rose out of bed, careful not to wake the girl beside him and stepped out onto the balcony. Lighting a cigarette and taking in the burning smoke into his lungs to maybe ease his ever pacing mind, he trailed mindlessly over to the balcony railing. The cold winter air prickled at his skin; it caused goosebumps to form, but he didn't care much for the uncomfortable feeling.

It wasn't as silent as it was out here like it was in the bedroom. The quiet bedroom only made his racing mind grow louder. But out here, he could hear all different kinds of sounds. He could hear the distant sound of cars—people coming home or leaving home for work... it brought him comfort knowing that there were other people out there who were awake just like he was—at such a random of the night too.

He wondered what they were all doing. Did they only just wake up and are on their way to work? Or have they just finished a night shift and are in their way to bed. Maybe they were coming back from a night out. Or maybe they were wide awake just as Eli was, and decided to go take a trip to the 24-hour McDonalds.

After a few minutes he heard the sliding door shut behind him and he turned his head to the sound; his brown eyes landing on her.

She was barely awake, her lips were still stuck in a pout and her eyes were close to shutting again. Her hands were tucked inside of her sleeves, her fists balling the material as to conserve heat and she wrapped her arms around herself to fight the cold chill of the night air off.

She was here with him in the cold; even though she would rather be in bed all warm and snuggly.

He exhaled, smoke leaving his lips as he finally spoke to her; "You should be asleep, love."

She stayed stood in her spot right by the door, wondering the same thing about him. She had felt him leave the bed a few minutes ago and had assumed he had gone to the kitchen for a drink—but after a while of feeling how empty and cold the bed was without him, she finally opened her eyes to see him standing out on the balcony.

"You okay?" She asked him, her pout softening; then she began to take a few steps toward him, "can't sleep?"

He watched as she approached him, a small smirk on the edge of his lips. His eyes softened when he heard the gentle hum, his heart swelling in his chest at such a small noise from her. He took a moment to admire her before answering her question.

He shook his head, "Can't sleep," he mumbled, taking another drag on his cigarette before continuing on, "Needed to get some air."

She nodded gently, folding my arms over her chest still as she gazed out at the view before them; fully intent on staying out here with him for as long as he needed.

"Y' Mind can't stop racing?" she asked him after a beat; looking back at him to see that he was gazing out at the view too.

They had a nice apartment near the docks, it was very beautiful in the day and night. It was a nice little home for them.

He nodded slowly in confirmation of her question, his mind racing with thoughts that he can't seem to get rid of. The weight of his thoughts were almost suffocating, and yet, her presence alone was a soothing balm to his racing mind.

He glanced at her briefly, a weary expression on his face, "Yeah," he murmured in response to her question, the wind whipping at his hair.

She nibbled on her lower lip, her eyes softening at his words. There have been times where she has found him sat up in bed with the bedside light on as he scribbled words into a notepad, or times where he is sitting out on the balcony with his guitar in his lap when he should be asleep; and sometimes he would be awake just stressing about tour and music. She loved that about him—how dedicated he was to his music and career; she loved everything about him, of course. But she didn't like to see him stress out about it all, over the thing he loved so much.

She hoped the reason his mind was racing was because he had a piece of music stuck in his head that he couldn't properly form on his guitar or notepad; it was much better than him stressing about other stuff. "

It might help if you tell me what's going on?" she smiled gently at him, tilting her head sweetly at him.

He met her gaze with a tired smile in return; he could not deny her words. He knew that talking about what was troubling him may help him calm his thoughts. But he still felt bad everytime. He didn't want to burden her.

"It's just tour stuff," he admitted, glancing out at the view for a brief moment before meeting her eyes again. "I can't stop thinking about it.. All the venues, the setlists, the scheduling, and the fans.."

She nodded along to what he was saying, “Yeah, it does get hectic sometimes," She agreed, empathising with him, "but you have a crap load of people on your team to help deal with that stuff, love; they're there for that so you don't have to worry and stress about it all. And sometimes most of the stress is all in your head, you have so much going on I'm not surprised—but everyone is here to help and support you," she told him gently, finally unwrapping her arms from around her chest and placed a comforting hand on his bicep; "I think it's lovely and so sweet that you care so much."

He listened intently to her words, her gentle reassurances and comforting touch on his arm sent a wave of relief through his body.

"And your fans care about you—they will love whatever happen, and I just know that it doesn't matter if a venue or setlist turns out to be not what they expected; because at the end of the day they're seeing Inhaler! As soon as the lights go out and you guys come on stage, it doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is that you go out there with a smirk on your face and a guitar strap around your neck," She told him, grinning before she added; "Rock N' Roll, hey?" with a smirk. He matched her smirk and threw the cigarette off the balcony, "And whatever happens, I'll always be there with a smile. Even when we're all old and grey and you need a walker on stage; I'll be there waiting in my wheelchair with the biggest smile on my face. I'll forever be proud of you."

"You better be," he joked, his voice soft, "I'll still expect you to be in the front row. Even if I'm singing about my aching back and which pills I gotta take for my arthritis instead of bloody teenage heartbreaks."

She giggled softly at his words, "yeah, well if you promise I get to be your very last 'Dublin in Ecstasied' person. And I'll even be in the mosh pit, me and my wheelchair versus all the other old ladies.”

He laughed heartily at her words, picturing what she described. The idea of an old, toothless version of her and her wheelchair in the mosh pit had him chuckling even more.

"You're such a dork," he said with affection, shaking his head in feigned disbelief. But there was a glimmer of genuine happiness in his eyes at the thought of them being together like that, even after all these years with both of theirs hearts still in it.

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah yeah, and what does that make you if you're engaged to this dork," she smirked, lifting her left hand and showed her engagement ring with a little twinkle from her fingers.

He pretended to glare at her, feigning annoyance at her response until his eyes fixated on the glint of the diamond in her engagement ring. The sight of the ring on her finger always sent his heart soaring. He took her hand in his and bringing it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the place where the ring was. "I love my dork."

She smiled bashfully and stepped closer to him when she felt a cold gust of wind go by, "Do you feel better now that you've kinda talked about it?"

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, burying his nose against her skin as the cold breeze passed them.

"Mmm, a bit," he mumbled against her skin, holding her close, “Talking to you always helps," he admitted, pressing a soft kiss to the pulse point of her neck.

"Good, " She smiled, "always come to me when you need to talk—when you can't sleep and stuff, okay?"

He nodded, his lips still gently pressed against her skin. He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his gaze soft and vulnerable.

"I promise," he said softly, lifting his free hand to brush a strand of hair back from her face, “It's just... sometimes my mind won't shut up, and I feel like I'm overthinking everything."

"Yeah... I hate when that happens. But again, talking about it to someone always helps because they can give you a voice of reason and stuff, and they can give you better insights and whatever. Don't ever feel like you can't talk to me about anything, okay? I'm a great listener," She said with a grin and pulled away from his slightly, cupping his face in her hands; hoping that it would somehow erase all the stress and worry he was feeling, "I can help you tomorrow with it all of you want. If you need help planning and sorting things out."

He smiled back at her, grateful for her understanding and support. He knew that he could always count on her to listen and offer advice.

"I know," he said, his voice low and sincere, “I trust you, you know that." He paused for a moment, a thought crossing his mind, "Talk to me about something other than the tour and stuff," he suggested.

She nodded, "you wanna talk out here or do you wanna go back to bed and talk? I can play with your hair if you want too," She suggested with a knowing look—knowing how much he loved it when he laid ontop of her with his head on her chest; his face buried deep into her neck as she played with his hair and ran her fingers through it.

His eyes lit up at the suggestion.

"Definitely the bed," he said quickly, his voice laced with appreciation. He loved when she played with his hair, especially when he could lay down on her chest, his head nestled against her body.  The sensation always seemed to ease any anxiety or tension he was feeling, "Mmm... I'll never say no to your fingers in my hair," he teased gently.

She grinned at his words and leaned forward to place a sweet, small kiss to his lips. She pulled away and started heading back to the bedroom. He followed her lead, his excitement growing as she invited him back to the bed. He quickly joined her, settling himself on top of her, his head against her chest. The warmth and comfort of her body wrapped tightly around him instantly eased his tension.

He let out a contented sigh as he snuggled into her, his arms wrapping around her slender waist. He relished the feeling of her fingers beginning to card through his hair, their touch soothing his frayed nerves.

"I'm going to bake something this week, I saw this recipe on TikTok of these cookies and they looked really good," she told him, beginning to talk and make conversation like he suggested as she slowly ran her fingers through his hair.

He let out a soft hum, his focus completely on the sensation of her hand in his hair. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her fingertips massaging his scalp. "Mmm... what kind of cookies?" he mumbled against her chest, his own voice a low, drowsy murmur.

She couldn't see him but she knew his eyes were closed and there was a content look on his face, sometimes she liked to take photos of him when he was like this. He was just so adorable she couldn't help herself..

"Fudge cookies. Or I can make some fudge brownies. God, I'm craving them now, you know I have a big sweet tooth," she told him with a gentle smile on her lips as she thought about the sweet delicacies. "What kind of cookies would you like? It doesn't have to be cookies though, I will bake anything you want me to."

He chuckled at the mention of her sweet tooth, the vibrations of his laughter sending a slight rumble through his chest. His eyes remained closed, his mind slowly drifting into a sense of relaxation. The feeling of her lips pressed against his head sent a warm shiver down his spine, and he found himself growing even more in love with her—if that was even possible.

"You can make me anything," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, “Just no raisins."

"Fuck raisins," She said, her voice filled with humour. It earned a gentle chuckle from him.

"Exactly," he agreed heartily, "No raisins. Ever."

He shifted slightly, nuzzling his head deeper into the softness of her chest. Closing his eyes again, he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her skin that he loved so much.

"Maybe we can bake something together, have a little look online tomorrow maybe and find something," usually she enjoyed baking by herself whilst he was doing his own thing in the living room, but maybe she could let him help her.

He hummed in agreement, the idea of baking together with her bringing a warm feeling to his heart.

"Definitely," he said, his voice still muffled against her chest. "I bet our kitchen would look like a bloody disaster after. Remember the last time I tried to help you?"

She laughed gently, "god that was awful. But the cake turned out great though," she hummed in memory of the last time she let him help her, "we could try cupcakes this time."

"Yeah, we'll have to give cupcakes a shot," he agreed, grinning against her chest, “As long as you let me lick the bowl, I'll be the Gordon Ramsey to your Jamie Oliver."

She giggled softly, running her fingers all the way back down his head as she leaned her head back a little to look down at him; the feeling of utter love rushing all around her.

"You're so cute; I love you," she smiled down at him and at his contented look, his eyes opened and he gazed up at her; fuelling what she was feeling.

His cheeks flushed slightly at her words. He wrapped his arms around her waist a bit tighter, a small, warm smile tugging at his lips. "You're cuter," he mumbled in reply, a hint of playfulness in his voice, “And I love you too. So much…. and y'smell amazing too."

He let out a small hum of appreciation, the scent of her perfume instantly bringing a sense of comfort. He lifted his head slightly and nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck once more, inhaling deeply.

"You're perfect," he murmured against her skin, his voice filled with adoration, “You know what I think every time you wear that perfume?"

"How amazing and wonderful I am?" She questioned humourously.

He chuckled, his grin widening as he lifted his head to meet her gaze again. "That too," he agreed, his eyes gleaming with affection, “But also, how much I want to eat you up."

"Creep," she smirked, but relating to it as she felt the same way with his scent and cologne that he wore; just smelling it on him just made her mouth water and she wanted to eat him up, and so she was glad the feeling was mutual.

And then she felt it…

"Did you just bite me!" She laughed out at his antics, her whole face lighting up in amusement as she then heard him chuckle at her amused reaction.

"Yeah, I did," he replied cheekily, a hint of a smirk on his lips, “And I'll do it again. I just can't help myself."

He moved his head again, his lips trailing down to her collarbone and gently nibbled at the sensitive skin there.

She scoffed, "Jesus, I didnt know insomnia made you horny," she teased him.

He chuckled, his grin widening at her teasing remark. He lifted his head again, his breath hot against her neck as he spoke. "Hey now, it only takes a few hours of staring at the ceiling for my mind to wander," he quipped, “And having you here with me certainly doesn't help."

"I can tell," she scoffed with a roll of her eyes, but her lips stayed curled up into a permanent smile, "but you are going to be very tired in the morning," she told him, continuing to run her hands through his hair; knowing that sleep was catching up to him.

He let out a weary sigh, leaning into her soothing touch. A small but weary smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah, I probably will be," he admitted, his voice filled with a hint of resignation, “But it'll be worth it, just being here with you like this. And I'm always tired in the morning anyway."

"Yeah that's because you go to bed at an awful time, honey," She stated the fact.

He let out a lighthearted mock sigh at her words, feigning offense at such an accusation. "Hey, my sleep schedule is perfectly fine, thank you very much," he retorted, although the hint of tiredness in his voice betrayed him, "It's just... hard to fall asleep when I'm thinking about you lying next to me looking like that."

He lifted his head again, his gaze playfully appraising, "So it's really your fault, you know."

She hummed in mock agreement, "yeah, maybe we should start sleeping in separate beds then," she tsked.

He raised a skeptical eyebrow at her suggestion, the faintest hint of disbelief in his eyes.

"Oh, really? Separate beds?" he echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “And what would that solve, exactly? We'd just end up sneaking into each other's beds anyway."

"I dunno, we could get bunk beds—ooh, one with a slide," she grinned. Remembering when they had to sleep in separate beds whilst visiting a relative because there were only two singles. They ended up being squashed in the same one anyways because they didn't want to sleep separately… and she got cold.

He smirked at the mental image her words created; his eyes dancing with amusement as he played along. "Ah, yes, bunk beds. How romantic," he joked, tilting his head back to look up at her with a cheeky expression. "Or maybe we could just get a bigger bed, one of those big round ones with the water flowing around. That way we'd have no excuse not to be touching each other. We would be trapped together forever.”

"Y'so clingy," she muttered, "Don't stop being clingy."

He let out a scoff, feigning offense again. "I'm not clingy," he protested, his grin betraying his true feelings, “I just prefer to be close, that's all. Is there really anything wrong with that?"

He shifted his position slightly, moving his head so he was properly looking up at her. "You're clingy too," he accused playfully, “You always want to hold my hand and sit next to me. Who's the clingy one now?"

"You are clingy, don't even try to deny it. And I get cold, you're always warm so I have an excuse," she told him, continuing to play with his hair. 

He chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he listened to her attempts to justify her own clinginess. He couldn't help but find her stubbornness adorable.

"Ah, so it's a matter of biological necessity, is it? You're using the cold as an excuse to cling to me,” He shifted once more, pulling her closer to him if that was even possible, their bodies practically melded together, "That's quite a flimsy excuse, love."

[darlingdesire]

anakin skywalker recs

nervous | one shot, fluff | @starlazergazer

trust | drabble, fluff | @mountkennedie

cosmic love | series, angst | @bloatedandalone04

take a break | one shot, fluff | @cattyb2

are you okay? | imagine, flangst | @starlazergazer

senators shadow | one shot, fluff (some angst) | @starlazergazer

pinky promise | one shot, flangst (more fluff) | @starlazergazer (seriously my fave anakin writer)

breathtakingly gorgeous | imagine, fluff (slight angst) | @skywlker-sluvtt

best friends master | one shot, flangst | @starlazergazer

just the two of us | imagine, fluff | @7-wonders

there under the surface | one shot, flangst | @starlazergazer

cocoon | drabble, fluff | @mountkennedie

you deserve better | imagine, flangst | @starlazergazer

i'll make it up to you | one shot, flangst | @starlazergazer

i've got you | imagine, comfort flangst | @starlazergazer

broken | imagine, flangst | @dracowars

couldn't get rid of me if you tried | one shot, flangst | @starlazergazer

spare key | au, two shot, angst (fluff in part 2) | @starlazergazer

shadows of your heart | imagine, flangst | @bloatedandalone04

bedrest | imagine, flangst (more fluff) | @thedarlingdearestdead

anakin the mechanic | imagine, fluff | @thedarlingdearestdead

is it real | imagine, flangst | @enviedear

kisses to shut them up | drabble, fluff | @angelltheninth

i know | series | @littleenglishfangirl

tender familiarity | drabble, soft fluff | @darklyndivinely

back to you | imagine, flangst | @alwaysmoncheri

competence | imagine, fluff | @thedarlingdearestdead

fixing each other up | imagine, fluff | @thedarlingdearestdead

do not avenge me | drabble, angst | @stars4anakin

snowed in | imagine, fluff | @star-whores-a-new-hoe

piloting | imagine, fluff | @thedarlingdearestdead

[darlingdesire]

feral

[darlingdesire]

"Padmé, fuck, marry or kill?"

Anakin:

[darlingdesire]

Clandestine

After beginning their relationship in secret during the war, Anakin and his Padawan sneak off to have a much-needed moment to themselves. (or teacher’s pet part two)

5k (18+)

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, choking, breeding kink, degradation/praise, sub anakin, bit of exhibitionism, inappropriate relationships, and strong language.

-

As of late, it's been difficult for her and Anakin to steal a moment alone together.

The war is coming to a close sometime soon, they can sense it, and they think they may come close to catching General Grievous if things continue to go this way. Yet, while the death of Count Dooku and the win they gained at the Battle of Coruscant pleased them, what didn't was the lack of time they had together. Mercifully, they were stationed together throughout the war, but that didn't mean they were able to enjoy one another's company. Anakin acted as a general, meanwhile, she did not possess such a prestigious rank, and he quickly learned he could not show any favoritism toward her. Although they were well known for how well they worked together, it was impossible to avoid the judgmental stares thrown their way when he thoughtlessly defended a mistake she made in front of everyone.

Anakin has a way of being...irrational...when he senses any animosity directed at her.

He often moves into a defensive position on instinct, creeping closer and stepping partway in front of her. It's strange. In every aspect of their relationship besides those relating to sexuality, he maintains such a casual dominance over her, but, when they fall into each other's arms in the dead of night, that dominance is nowhere to be seen.

Like two weeks ago

They managed to sneak away unseen and found a secluded spot to meet at. It was a quick affair, to say the least, but for how brief it had been, it wasn't lacking any passion. Quick, quiet fucks are all they've been able to get away with amidst the responsibilities that burden them during this war. And, right now, she's craving more.

"Why are we going to the hangar?" Anakin asks, keeping his voice down as his Padawan guides him after her by the hand. His flesh hand, he takes note of with a rush of bliss caused by the contact of her bare skin against his. "Someone could see us."

A smirk crosses her face at this, and she turns her head to glance over her shoulder at him.

"Aren't Jedi supposed to feel no fear?" She teases him, "You surely weren't afraid of being caught last time."

The mere mention of the last time they snuck off to spend some time alone together brings a pink flush to his cheeks.

Ah, yes, that.

After days of teasing on her end and relentless flirting on his, they managed to steal a spare couple (more like ten) moments to quickly have sex in an unlocked supply closet. His gloved hand clamped down over her mouth to keep those delightful whines and gasps of pleasure from escaping the closet as he thrusted into her slick cunt.

He must refrain from submitting to her attempts to get a reaction from him. Instead, he falls back into the role he plays in the presence of others—the calm, wise teacher always ready to spout Jedi morals at his apprentice. Those broad shoulders square themselves, allowing her to feel the intimidation of his height advantage as they come to a natural stop beside his starfighter.

"Not necessarily."

And, choosing to play along as the bright-eyed student as if she hasn't known him in the most intimate ways and made him weep while he fucked her, she raises a brow in a silent command for him to elaborate.

Anakin cuts a glance back at the door through which they came, his sole display of hesitancy short of what emotions she can sense coming off of him, then speaks.

"It depends on who you ask. Master Yoda says fear leads us to the dark side. I would say that fear is natural. It's where you allow it to lead you that tends to cause the most problems. At least, that's been the case for me."

If he's interpreting things correctly, he thinks he almost feels her sudden curiosity.

Of course, Y/N takes this as her chance to taunt him, which he anticipated. Her head angles to the side to allow herself a better look at him. The inches between them wane with the little steps she takes to invade his space.

"So," she murmurs, batting her lashes, "Where will you allow it to lead you now?"

This causes him to freeze.

His mouth twitches with the urge to say the first filthy thought that comes to mind, but he manages to restrain himself. Due to his level of trust and comfortability with her, he doesn't bother concealing the perverse nature of his thoughts from her searching mind, but he makes sure not to give her the reaction she hoped for.

Instead of rushing forward to kiss her, he simply says, "Wherever you want me to go."

The tension between them has gone taut, and it feels as though the oxygen has been vacuumed from the surrounding air. There it is again, that needy, obedient side of the otherwise commanding and unrelenting general that, somehow, turns molten beneath her touch. It isn't always this way. There have been instances during which Anakin has taken back control with great enthusiasm, holding her wriggling limbs down with the Force while he fucks her until she's drooling and whining for release like the employees of that bar selling their bodies for a hefty sum of credits. It pleases him, to say the least. He is merely a man, after all. Not even Jedi are immune to such things. At least, he isn't.

In response, Y/N sends him the lewd image that prompted her to lead him out here in the first place, and it doesn't take him longer than a few seconds to walk around the side of his ship to climb up into it. She doesn't have to ask him why. If the image she pushed into his mind is to be fulfilled and proven true, he'll need to be sitting inside.

Once he's standing on one of the wings, he looks down and asks, "Are you coming?"

A feral grin lights up her face.

In the time it takes her to jump up onto the wing of the ship and follow in his footsteps, Anakin has already seated himself behind the controls and waits for her with an excitement that threatens to eat him alive. Obviously, she tortures him, moving as slowly as she can and taking her sweet time before closing the door behind her.

What she sees before her is nothing short of breathtaking.

He sits back against the seat with his thighs spread in expectance of her settling into place on his lap. It makes her stomach flutter to merely look at him like this. His mouth is tilted in a smirk, so arrogant when in his own element. In heated flashes, she can see it. She can see what he'll look like once she's through with him. Pink, kiss-swollen lips shining with a mixture of their spit, cheeks flushed a deep shade of scarlet, brows scrunched as he hits his peak—it overwhelms her mind to an extent that nearly prevents her from moving. But, she manages.

She takes her place astride his lap with nothing said between them, no communication outside of their unbreaking stare and shared thoughts. Her palms slide up from where they brace against his toned abdomen until they hold at his shoulders. After a second, she finally speaks.

"Go on."

What he saw in her projected thought was downright filthy. It immediately caused his cock to stiffen in his trousers, but he isn't going to go along with every little thing she shows him. Despite how he surrenders himself to her in moments like these, that doesn't change his protective nature with her.

"No."

Y/N frowns at him, and she makes sure to exaggerate how she always does when trying to get what she wants from her master. Although, she doesn't call him that much anymore. As of late, it's always "Anakin" or "Ani". It's only "Master" in the presence of others who may look too closely and pass judgment should they show signs of their frequent intimacy.

"Please?" she begs and shifts in place to "accidentally" brush up against his growing erection.

The thing is, he is a lucky man. What she imagined them doing is lifted straight from the pages of fantasies he had back when he was a hormonal young man with no outlet for it.

Anakin's features harden, but his eyes remain softened when he shakes his head at her. As much as he once would've died to know that a girl wants to fuck him while he pilots his ship he can't say yes.

"We can't," he says, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You're far too dear to me. I won't risk it."

Deep down past the inkling of disappointment, this warms her heart. At the beginning of whatever this is, she didn't think it to be anything more than a sexual relationship of convenience, but the things he says sometimes...Sometimes, he says stuff like that, and she has no other choice but to refrain from asking him to marry her right then and there. As of late, the lines have been to flirt for her to distinguish what they are to each other. It began with them as strangers, then master and padawan, friends, and now...this.

"Well, at least in this scenario we'd be going out together. Kind of romantic if you ask me."

His face shifts at this, and, though it's silly, it makes him feel so loved.

"Or foolish."

"Or tragic and beautiful."

He huffs a laugh.

"Well, even if you're right, I'd like to keep you for a little while longer if that's alright with you."

In answer to his sweet rejection, she offers a shy smile and murmurs, "Okay," before leaning forward to connect their mouths in a kiss.

It begins slowly, a tender brush of her lips on his, then, after they get a taste of one another, it transforms into something urgent and primal. The hands perched on his shoulders dip back down to feel their way along the length of his torso as he reaches up to cup her face in one hand. The tips of his fingers curl around the back of her neck and dig in to pull her as close as possible. He's found that kissing her is quite an addictive thing. The more he does it, the more disconnected he becomes with reality. She has a way of erasing everything else that exists in the galaxy whenever she's near.

From her relentless, shifting a moment ago, she can now feel him pressing up against her between her parted thighs, and she is quick to move her hips on him. The pressure of the contact made on his cock draws a sharp breath through his teeth, and he feels her smile into his mouth.

She whispers, "You're so sensitive."

The embarrassment radiates from him, but, even if she couldn't sense it, she can hear it in the words he says next.

"Don't make me pull rank on you."

This pulls a giggle from her, and he'd be annoyed if the light, melodic sound weren't the prettiest laugh he's ever heard. It is moments like these that convince him that this—choosing to cross this line with her—was the right decision, no matter what anyone may have to say about it should they be discovered.

Y/N pulls back just enough to see his face in the dim light and raises her brows.

"You can't pull rank on me."

He scoffs.

"Of course, I can," he says, "Not only am I your master, I'm a general."

She gives him a pointed look, then reaches for the skirt of her plain night dress to pull it up her thighs. The sight of her bare skin makes his mouth water, but he gets more than he anticipated when she pulls the fabric up around her hips to reveal herself to him. No underwear.

She makes quick work of his belt, allowing the lightsaber attached to slip away to the floor. Her hand is already wrapped around him and pumping at a lazy pace by the time she talks back to him.

"How can you keep up the big strong general act?" she asks and dips her head down to kiss him, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth. "How do you think they'd feel if they knew their general let his Padawan order him around?"

There's a slight shift in her weight that lifts her hips up enough for her to guide the leaking tip of him to her entrance, and she presses her forehead to his to watch his face as she sinks down onto his thick cock. The second he bottoms out inside of her, he has already lost whatever game they were playing together. The heat of his exhales cloud against her face, warning her skin from the cold air that flooded in before she closed the door.

It takes a moment for them both to adjust.

Feeling the walls of her cunt squeezing around him almost sends him over the edge immediately, and he has to concentrate on keeping himself together with his eyes shut and open mouth hovering over hers. It amazes him that it never gets old with her. Even after all the times they've done this together, he can't stop coming back for more. How could he ever refrain from this, from her?

"Ani," she says through a sigh, her voice nothing more than a soft push of air.

His brows furrow from the pleasure of having her merely sitting like this on him, and he nudges his nose with hers, leaning in to offer her a sensual kiss as he murmurs, "I know, I know." One hand comes up to wrap her hair up around his fist and uses it to tilt her head back a little to allow his lips to meet her neck. It's a tender kiss. The kind that says all of the words he can't seem to whenever they're together, but, of course, she must get him back for it.

She clenches down around him as she rocks her hips back and forth slowly, oh so slowly, for the sake of torturing him. The hand that isn't wrapped up in her hair grips her hip hard enough to bruise the soft skin like a ripe peach.

He shakes his head.

"No," Anakin says, and she halts, fearing that he no longer wants this. In response to that insecure thought, he chuckles. "No, it's my turn to have my way with you. I think it's time you learn your place, Padawan."

To his shock, Y/N laughs in his face.

The hand gripping her hip is ripped away and pinned to the seat by the invisible hands of the Force. They both know that he could stop her from pinning him down if he pleased, but he doesn't dare to. Not when she's looking down at him like that, moving her hips back and forth on him at a steadier pace now, and he's powerless to do anything but enjoy the sight of her above him.

She says, breathless, "I think we both know that won't be happening."

For emphasis, she starts to ride him harder, faster, and pulls his face into her hands to keep him at a distance just far enough to allow her to see him, yet close enough to make him try to lean forward against her touch for a kiss. It's needless to say that she doesn't allow him to. Instead, she lets one of her hands slip down from his face to collar his throat the way he had done to her the first time they were intimate together in that rundown bar on Coruscant.

Fuck. He wasn't prepared for that. No, no, no, he thinks, breaking the hold she had on his hands and gripping her hips to slow them down, but—

Anakin's eyes clamp shut as he buries his face in her neck and spills into her with a groan, not wanting to meet her gaze in his embarrassment. All he can think in the seconds after the mind-numbing bliss of his orgasm is that he ruined it. She had crafted the perfect fantasy in her head, and he couldn't keep it together long enough to allow her to enjoy it for longer than a moment or so. His eyes are already flooding with tears that hang on his lashes, threatening to fall at a constant rate and wet her delicate skin beneath.

At first, she almost doesn't understand—the way his hand broke free and grasped her hips, his groan, and the pulsating sense of warmth that filled her in the seconds following—but after a second, it clicks with her what's happening, and she can't help how her lips curve into a little smirk.

Oh, she thinks to herself, this is too good to be true.

Despite his increased degree of sensitivity in the aftermath of his orgasm, she doesn't stop. It isn't uncommon for him to be able to keep going after he comes sometimes, so it doesn't take her by surprise that he remains hard inside of her. And this is what truly breaks him. This is what reduces him to a clingy, teary-eyed mess with his arms closing in around her waist as she moves on his cock, taking what she wants from him with the knowledge that he's always belonged to her tucked safely away in her heart.

The hand around his neck squeezes tighter as if for the sake of taunting him, and she brushes the tip of his nose with hers. So close to connecting their mouths yet too far.

"So needy," she says amidst the harsh bouncing of her hips. "You hardly lasted a minute, it's pathetic."

Hearing those words lights a fire in the distance pit of his abdomen, pleasure sparking like the light of a fire once more. A matter of seconds was all it took, and the degrading words spoken to him couldn't be more true. Despite the fact that he likes being talked to like this and treated like he's lower than her. That paired with the feeling of her tight walls clamped down around him pushes him right back to where he had been when they started, albeit much more sensitive in the wake of his orgasm.

His hands leave her hips grapple for purchase on her waist to pull her body closer to his, never satisfied with the degree of closeness. Not even when he's inside of her.

"M'sorry," he whispers with tears shining in his eyes and tries to jut his face forward for a kiss to no avail. "I'll be good this time, I swear..."

The fingers digging into the sides of his neck loosen slightly at this, and she can't help but soften at the sound of him pleading with her. Seeing the tears in his eyes, although not from anything but a strange mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, plays a part in it as well. This is what he likes—being broken down into pieces by her, used and degraded, then built back up again with hushed words of praise and soft touches. At last, her hand slides up from its home around his throat and holds his face by the chin, keeping his head tilted back against the headrest to allow her a better look at him.

Anakin is and has always been, devastatingly beautiful. Beautiful in a statuesque way that only art can be. Yet, somehow, like everything with him from his strength in the force to his immaculate conception, he defies the rules and offers the artists of the universe a face, a body, a mind to challenge that of their meticulous creations. To capture his likeness would be impossible. Even she has trouble reining him in during these moments. He is simply too much in every conceivable way—too much power, too much beauty, too much ambition—to ever be confined to the prison of a painted canvas or sculpture. The only entity he will allow to confine him is her. Not even the Force may take precedence over the deity sitting astride his lap.

The scar cutting through his brow down past the edge of his eye is slightly raised beneath the thumb she allows to drag down the length of it. Using the hand that isn't grasping his chin, she inspects it carefully and cups his cheek. Now, the motion of her bouncing on him shifts into more of a sensual grinding—something far more intimate and slow.

"Mmm," she hums a quiet moan and keeps his head pinned back against the headrest under the doting guidance of her hands as she fucks him. "You really are trying to please me, aren't you?" There's a heavy sigh that sinks her chest, and he feels her tighten up around him at the familiar feeling budding within her. The thumb that caressed his scar now brushes the swell of his bottom lip as she says, breathless and breaking character for a second, "Ani.."

He begs, not even fully sure what for, "Please."

To this, her lips curl upward in a soft smile, and she decides to give him what he wants. After all, he's gotten himself so worked up over it, she might as well take care of her beloved, sensitive master. The hand holding his face drop and wrap around his wrists to guide them from her waist back down to her hips. That way he will have a better hold and leverage on her.

Finally, she grants him the opportunity to kiss her, and he engages with an enthusiasm that puts their previous kisses to shame. But before he can allow his tongue to push past her parted lips, she pulls back a hairs width of space to whisper, "If you get me off in less than a minute, I'll let you come again." The air they breathe in and out runs hot from both their exhales and the words she speaks. After a pause, she reminds him, "You better hurry."

The hands on her hips squeeze hard as he shifts beneath her and plants his feet firmly on the floor of the aircraft to anchor himself in place before he starts to thrust up into her. Her body jolts hard against his from the strength of him fucking her, holding her there over top of him and looking into her eyes as he diligently works to bring her pleasure.

As their mouths fall apart from a heated kiss, he murmurs, "Touch yourself," to her, knowing she needs the added stimulation to be pushed over the precipice that his cock alone has brought her to.

She giggles, apparently not fucked out enough to drop her domineering attitude much to Anakin's dismay, and asks, "You can't make me come on your own?"

By the darkness that stirs in his irises, she can tell that she has awoken a sleeping monster with these words, and in spite of his lust for her controlling him in every way, he has never been able to back down from a challenge. Especially not one against her. He thinks he scolds her, muttering something about her being a brat, but that could easily be in his head. At this point, he isn't sure which urges have been acted in and which remain a blissful fantasy. With how easily the power shifts between them, a constant game of tug of war, it wouldn't surprise him if he said it aloud. His cybernetic arm wraps around her waist and pulls tight to imprison her against him so closely, she could not move or squirm away if she wanted to. Which, she doesn't. His flesh hand, however, disappears between their bodies to allow the rough pads of his middle and ring finger to make contact with her aching clit.

Y/N's body turns molten in his grasp in response. What little handle she had left on her composure now crumbles as he fucks her hard and deep enough for his tip to hit her cervix each time. The heady blend of pain and pleasure reduces her to hysterics, falling over until her body is fully braced against his with her forehead resting on his shoulder. It renders her useless. All she can do is moan and gasp and cling to him as he ruins her. If she were to pull away to look into his eyes, she'd find a man possessed by lust and obsession. All directed at her, of course.

Every brush of his fingers on her clit brings her closer and closer until the tight thread of tension within her finally snaps, pushing her over the edge with her mouth falling open in pleasure. Even as she shakes in his arms and digs her fingernails into his arms with enough force to break the skin beneath his clothing, Anakin doesn't let up. He keeps pushing her further throughout the aftermath of her climax and forces her to ride it out without any mercy shown for her obvious sensitivity.

It isn't until the intense pulsating waves of bliss recede that she can regain her senses and withdraw her face from where it had been buried in his shoulder.

She drapes her arms over his broad shoulders, keeping him equally as trapped in her embrace as she was in his, and allows her forehead to press against his as he continues to fuck her. The arm around her waist squeezes like a vice, and she can tell how close he is by the erratic nature of his thrusts. It almost makes her wince in sensitivity to feel him pounding into her harder than he had been seconds ago, reckless and blind to any harm he may be doing to his precious Padawan as a result of his lust, but she stifles the sound. A part of her likes this aspect of it. The idea of him using her like she's nothing more than a toy for him to play with once she's had her fun.

Her lips smear a wet kiss against the top of his head where his skin meets his hairline, murmuring, "Good boy," under her breath. A fraction of a second later, she says, "I want you to come inside me."

This sends him into a frenzy—his hand slips out from between their bodies to take hold of her hip and stabilize himself as he chases his release. Now, she can't help but wince at the ache he causes inside of her, but he knows better than to stop at the sound of it. The last time he did, she punished him for it, so now he never stops when he's fucking her. Not unless she tells him to.

Anakin pulls her hips down to him one last time before he stills inside of her, barely moving at a slow pace to grind into her. She's so fucking tight like this—with her legs on either side of his lap—and he can tell that she's purposefully squeezing down around him to intensify the sensation, drinking in the sight of him coming undone beneath her with an awestruck expression. The warm, pulsating presence of him inside of her is intoxicating. She can't help but grind down against him, keeping him as deep as possible. Every hot spurt of his release fills her to the brim until she can feel the sticky fluid dripping around where the base of his cock keeps it trapped inside of her hole.

The thought of the consequences this could have is scandalous enough to bring an added flush to his cheeks. Nothing would please him more than to see her marked so publicly by him, her belly swollen beneath her clothing from growing his child, but it would never work. At least not right now. Not unless they changed their circumstances to allow them to experience the joys of parenthood together. Seeing that they are both devoted to the order, however, it seems impossible.

"That's it," she whispers, allowing him to hug her close and place a series of wet kisses across her neck in the time it takes him to come down from his orgasm. Her fingers card through his overgrown hair and pull it taut from his scalp just for the sake of torturing him. "Did so well."

All she gets in response is a sound she can only categorize as a mix between a whine and a hum. Seeing that he's still inside of her, every time she does so much as shift her weight around, he is reeling from overstimulation. And because she knows him so well, better than she knows herself, she takes it as her chance to show him mercy and lifts her hips up to help him pull out before it becomes too much.

Once she helps him pull his underwear back up his hips along with his pants, Y/N falls forward into him with a sigh.

Their faces are so close, any slight movement could make their mouths meet in a kiss, but neither of them does so. They sit like this, his hands on her hips and hers on his shoulders, and catch their breath in comfortable silence. If anyone were to visit the hangar and look inside, it would be easy to assume what has happened. They both appear properly fucked out with their hair in disarray from having each other's hands in it, their clothing hanging from their bodies, and their cheeks tinted pink.

The only sound that can be heard over the silence is that of their heavy breathing as it gradually evens out again in the aftermath of their exertions.

A moment passes, then Anakin breaks the silence with the last thing she expected to hear from him, "We shouldn't even go back." His hand cups the back of her neck to allow him to pull her face away enough for their eyes to meet. At first, she assumed he was kidding. But, once she saw his face, she knew he wasn't. "Not tonight, I mean."

She keeps brushing through his sweat-damp hair with her fingers to tame it into a more presentable style. Those pretty lips of hers pull back from her teeth in a smile.

"And where would you have us go instead, Ani?"

There's a second of hesitation, just one, before his face lights up with a mischievous smirk.

He shrugs, feigning innocence, then says as though it's as casual of an activity as going for a late-night walk together to clear their heads, "I would have us fly somewhere far away, somewhere no one would recognize us..." His eyes soften at the words that will leave him next, and he traces the slope of her waist a few times with his fingertips in a soothing pattern."Somewhere we could get married without any of them knowing."

The smile drops from her face, and with it so does his heart.

No, no, that was to much, wasn't it? Even though she surely must know by now, he has never actually said he loves her out of fear of her not reciprocating. It didn't seem wrong in his head, but now that he's suggested it aloud and she is looking at him like that, he isn't sure. This is always what he does. He is too rash, emotion-driven, and consumed by his urges to ignore them. It was part of what made him such a difficult Padawan for Obi-Wan, and now it's proving to be a conflict in his relationship with her as well.

He's about to take it back, to apologize and tell her they should go back downstairs, when she speaks. But it isn't what he expected to hear. In fact, it warms a place deep inside of him that he thought was hardened from years of hardship and grief. And he knows now that she feels the same way as him, even if neither of them has said it.

"I think that's a wonderful idea."

[darlingdesire]

I’m in love with you <3

“Check this out,” I call from the bedroom, as I hear his keys clatter on the counter.

He peeks into the room, resting on the doorframe.

“Uh…” he gestures widely, “What are you up to here?”

The bed is blanketed in colourful yarn and crafting supplies.

“Crocheting!” I grin, holding up a small square of woven wool.

“Of course,” he agrees, and steps towards me, “Right, so you’re making…” He picks up a mass of tangled yarn.

I frown. He pulls at the tangles, wrapping up his fingers and ensnaring the buttons on his coat.

“Obviously this will be a scarf,” I state, watching him begin to rip at the trap he’s created. “Are you…”

“No, I’m not stuck,” he insists, now biting at the yarn.

“Alright, hey, don’t wreck it,” I laugh, climbing over my piles of loose threads and various crochet hooks to assist him.

“You, back away, I’m in a vulnerable state,” he says, holding his hands out and stepping backwards.

“Oh my god. I’m trying to help you.” I sigh, reaching for the yarn that has now somehow completely wrapped around his wrists. “What the… fuck have you done here,”

“You’ve been doing witchcraft while I’ve been away, this is not normal,” he says exasperated, flailing his arms to shake my hands off him. “On our bed!”

“I’m going to have to cut you out,” I shake my head, grabbing my scissors.

“Whoa, whoa,” he shouts, spinning around and out the door. A trail of yarn follows him. “I’m not going down easy!”

“Seriously, quit running around! This wool was not fucking cheap!” I say, chasing him down the hall.

“Are you running with scissors?! What the fuck!” He screams, “And to think I was about to have children with you!”

I groan, and toss the scissors on the kitchen table. He’s reached the end of the hall, and I’ve got him pinned in the doorway.

“Now, just relax sweetie, you’ll be just fine,” I giggle, reaching out towards him.

“Oh no, no no. Do not give me that creepy fucking look,” he says, stumbling around to try and get past me. I grab his hands and press my forehead to his.

“Hm.” I say, kissing his cheek, “You’re kind of sweet like this. Helpless.”

He stares blankly at my splitting grin. Then he winks.

“Whatever you like, baby,” he says lowly, leaning into my ear.

“Ok, now it’s no fun if you play along.” I roll my eyes, turning around.

“Wait! Ok, wait,” he yells, “Pretend I didn’t say that!”

I strut down the hallway.

“Wait, please, I’m actually stuck,” he laughs, “Wait!”

[darlingdesire]

let me come home (illicit affairs part i)

content warnings: f! reader, angst, fluff, smut, sex toys, unprotected p in v sex, oral sex m receiving, oral sex f receiving, drug mentions (weed and ecstasy)

word count: 3.7k

Your sneakers squeak on the pristine tile floor of the hotel lobby as you hurry to the elevator. With your hoodie over your head, you look down at your phone.

“1221” says the most recent text. You whip your head up long enough to smile at the elevator attendant and tell him where you’re headed. Inside the small box, you feel flustered; claustrophobic with excitement and anxiety and anticipation. When you reach the twelfth floor, you dart out quicker than is polite and look behind you as you scan the room numbers in front of you. 17, 19, 21. You look to both sides again before knocking twice. Finally, the door swings open and you’re face to face with a jogger-clad Matty. He looks soft around the edges, worn-out. It’s probably the jet lag. He beams at the sight of you and you push past him into the room.

“Did you get the pigs in a blanket?” you ask him once you’ve left your shoes at the door. His face falls and his brows furrow.

“What kind of greeting is that?” he returns. You look at him blankly in a stalemate.

“They said it will be 45 minutes,” he relents. Your face lights up and you greet him with a kiss on the cheek. And the neck. Matty wraps his arms around you and leans down to kiss the top of your head. The sweet floral scent of your hair fills his lungs, intoxicating him more than any joint or drink could.

“Not to get you all riled up, but I sprung for some orange juice as well,” he says into your hair. You chuckle good-naturedly and lean up to meet his lips in a homecoming kiss. Your skin begins to sing as he kisses you back insistently, parting your lips with his tongue. You whimper softly at the euphoric feeling, already beginning to spread to your head and limbs.

“Think we can go for a round before they come up with it?” you ask conspiratorially.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” he replies. You’re smiling as he picks you up by your bum and carries you to the king sized bed, plopping you down unceremoniously in the middle. You move towards the top of it and shrug your hoodie off, revealing a red lace bra. Matty moves to cover you with his body as you get comfortable, your head against the plush, cold pillows.

One of his hands moves to trace the outline of your bra, flesh strains against the delicate fabric, practically begging to be released. He licks his bottom lip absentmindedly and his hand fully envelops your breast.

“Fuck, all this for me?” he asks. You roll your eyes.

“Obviously,” you smile back at him.

“You spoil me sweetheart. So fucking gorgeous,” his words are like syrup, sticky and sweet. They coat your tongue with sugar and go to straight your head. They linger in your mind when he's gone. You wish you could bottle them or press them into vinyl. Play them for your family and friends. Look, this is real. I’m his. A pang of hurt hits you right behind the eyes.

Matty is pressing soft, chase kisses to the exposed flesh on your chest. He looks so content– at home. Are you each others' homes?

“You okay baby?” he looks up at you, all pink lips and flushed skin and blown-out pupils, “you’re not taking the piss out of me for being sentimental.” His words make you chuckle, and snap from your melancholia. Your hands find his soft brown hair in answer to his question.

“I’m perfect. Fuck, keep going please,” his hands are around your back in no time, fumbling with the clasp of your bra. You arch your back to grant him more access and he groans at the feeling of you pressed into him. The euphoria clouds his mind and his fingers move uselessly behind you. You move your hand to cover them.

“Here, I got it,” you chuckle.

“No. Fuck, please let me. You went to all this effort, I wanna unwrap you myself,” he finally undoes the clasp and you lift your arms as he peels the garment off of you, brushing his lips down your arm as he does. Your breasts, once held up perfectly by the lingerie, flatten on your chest, you look down at them. Matty catches you looking.

“Don’t worry, they’re perfect,” he kisses the valley between your tits, right next to your heart. “Perfect, perfect,” the movements of his mouth massage the soft flesh of your right breast as he moves further in. “Perfect,” he says and captures your right nipple in his mouth, immediately swirling his tongue around it, wetting you completely. His teeth close softly around the bud and just when you think you’ve got him figured out, he replaces them with his lips, sucking devotedly at you. Your skin is on fire and he’s the only one who can extinguish it. You know he’ll bring you right to the edge of burning down before he does.

You arch up into the feeling of his warm mouth and have a moment of clarity long enough to realize he’s still in his t-shirt. Your hands move to the hem and push it up his rigid stomach.

“Off, off, off,” you say deliriously. It’s meant to be sexy, but it comes out whiney, needy. Why are you always so needy?

Your thoughts are cut off by the sight of his fair skin littered with tattoos, passing thoughts he’s memorialized on his body. Your lusty eyes devour him and all of the sudden you need more control.

“Switch with me,” you demand. He obliges without a word and you take your leggings off as he shuffles around on his back. You move back over him, now clad only in a red thong that barely functions as underwear. Matty notices it at the same time you do: you’ve left a wet mark on his gray sweatpants where you straddled him. He reaches down to touch the damp fabric between your thighs, warm and inviting. He plays with the lace, pulling it up so it rubs deliciously between your folds and roughly on your clit. Your head falls back and you begin to grind against his hand as he moves the fabric back and forth, finally gathering the friction you came here for. His fingers wander down to your hole and push tentatively into you. He’s only halfway in when he pulls them out. Your eyes snap up to him annoyed. He offers you a conciliatory glance.

“Can I eat you out?”

You’re appeased. You dismount him to shuck your last stitch of clothing off. As you crawl back up his body, his eyes catch yours.

“You thought I was gonna be mean? What on earth would make you think that?” Your mind’s eye flashes back to a reunion a month ago, your hands tied beautifully above your head as Matty edged you cruelly with a vibrator. Come and get it, greedy girl. The obscenities echo in your head. You blush at the thought and at his taunts.

“Shut up,” you say timidly, and cover his face with your wet cunt. He’s got his arms around your thighs and his tongue slicing up between your folds, treating you to a variety of sensations as he pays attention to each sensitive part of you. Your hands come up to brace yourself against the headboard as he begins to work on your clit, licking in sweet sideways strokes before sucking it into his mouth. As the pressure in your body increases, you begin to ride his face, furiously chasing your release.

“Mmmmph fuck, good girl,” the vibrations from his moans go straight into your pussy and increase your pleasure tenfold.

“Please, please stay like that. I’m gonna cum,” you warn. He releases a lengthy moan into you as you continue to chase your peak. He knows he’s the only person to have ever made you cum, and he still gets off on it every time. He moves his mouth away from you long enough for you to hear what he’s saying.

“Cum for me, please. Need you all over my face baby,” and with that he’s back in you everywhere. Hands coming to cover your backside and reach into your wetness, his tongue licking up into your hole, filling you. His nose bumps into your clit at intervals that drive you crazy. But what tips you over the edge is when he moves his hand to the bottom of your entrance, pushing gently against your back wall. You feel so full and euphoric as your orgasm washes over you, starting at the space between your legs and spreading to your chest, your fingers, your nose. You ride him through it and stop when you can’t take it anymore, breathing heavily. His fingers are still pressed inside you. He’s obsessed with knowing it’s real, feeling your heartbeat against his fingers and face. You know you can never fake it with him, and what’s more you don’t have to.

You move off of him and lay on your back. He ducks to the side to clean himself a bit and then leans over to kiss you. You put your hand on his head and move him away gently.

“My face is numb. Can’t feel you,” you say bashfully.

“Yeah?” he’s proud and smiling, eyes squinted so tight you can’t make out his irises.

“Sorry,” you say.

“Please, that’s the best reason I’ve ever heard not to kiss someone,” he grins and pulls you into his chest to come down. Your hands come up to the space below his ribs, trace his top abdominals, get lost in the sweet smattering of chest hair that covers his tattoos.

A knock at your door snaps you from your reverie. You hurry under the duvet as Matty gets up, stretching his muscular arms gratuitously before heading to the door.

The hotel worker has a table he’s wheeling around and he begins to push it into the room. Matty is quick to stop the table and wink at the guy.

“I’ll take it from here, mate thanks,” he says and hands him a $20 note. With the door finally closed, Matty rolls your midnight snack over to your side of the bed. He pours you orange juice from the carafe before crossing the room to faff about with his luggage. You watch him curiously as you sip on your orange juice, slowly feeling the weight return to your body as you replenish your blood sugar. He produces a beautifully wrapped box from his duffel.

“What’s this?” you ask. It’s not uncommon for Matty to give you gifts, but he’s always finding some way to surprise you. He’s sweet, impossibly sweet. Though you suppose it must be easy to be nice when you’re rich. You push the thought away. Nothing exists outside of these four walls. Nothing exists except us.

He gets into bed and slots himself behind you. He kisses your shoulder as he places the parcel on the covers.

“Open it,” he insists. You rip the wrapping paper eagerly and see the box of a beautiful — that’s really the only word you could use to describe it — vibrator. It’s the fanciest you’ve ever seen: pink and white and gold. You want to laugh, of course he’d make an investment when it comes to this.

“You’re crazy, this is a fancy fucking vibrator,” you chuckle and lean your head against him. He reaches over to the table and uncovers the pigs in a blanket. He feeds one to you tenderly before enveloping you in his arms.

“You know our sex is too good for second rate toys,” he states, smiling into your neck. You finish chewing and turn around in his lap before hugging him around his neck.

“All this and room service?” you tease, opening the box excitedly.

“What can I say, I’m a generous guy,” he smiles slyly, taking the box from your struggling hands, “Now hurry up and eat, I wanna use it on you.” Your heart jumps into your throat.

“I don’t need to eat, I’m ready now,” you tell him, defiant. He loves it, loves how eager you are, how badly you want him, how you treat him like he’s the only person you’ve ever had. He traces his pointer finger over your cupid's bow.

“I’m ready too, darlin’ but I need you to eat something. After that I’ll keep you up all night long. I promise,” he coos. He grabs two more bites of food and gives one to you, cheersing you before eating his whole.

—

Matty gently removes the vibrator from your swollen, red clit and gets up off the bed as he quickly rids himself of his boxers. He leans back over your face and kisses you, admiring your blissed out expression.

“Do I need to get a condom?” he knows that, with you guys, it’s not always safe to go without. He wouldn’t pressure you, but he knows you’d rather feel him wholly, if you can. Obviously, he feels the same way. You blush a little.

“I’m actually good this time. I’ve not been with anyone else,” you don’t know why you’re shy about it. Surely, he wouldn’t find that lame, would he? No, he would like it, you think. He would like that he’s the only person to have been with you recently. Maybe you’re kidding yourself. He touches your face and snaps you out of it.

“I haven’t either,” he says calmly, “don’t trust anyone like I trust you.” He climbs back over top of you and kisses you deeply, “turn over for me, yeah?”

You oblige, settling comfortably on your stomach. He moves a pillow under your hips and hikes your right leg up at an angle on the bed. You hear buzzing again behind you as Matty positions the vibrator on your clit.

“You feel good?” he asks.

“Yes,” you’re a little out of breath, dumb with anticipation, “Need you though. Need it harder.”

You feel him running up and down through your folds, almost dipping into you. You moan obnoxiously, too proud to tell him again how much you need him. It’s enough for him, he pushes into you unhurriedly, savoring the moment, relishing in every inch he stretches you. When he bottoms out, he moves his hands up beside your shoulders and whispers in your ear.

“Fuck you’re so tight. Can I move?” You nod frantically into the pillow and he begins to snap his hips into yours. You feel your heartbeat everywhere as your pleasure begins to build. Matty covers your hands in his and stretches them out in front of you, keeping you in place as he fucks you precisely. Each time he bottoms out, he presses your clit perfectly against the vibrator.

“Good girl. You’re doing so well for me, baby,” he pants in your ear. He’s dominant, but it’s sweet and the perfect mixture of submission and pride swirls around your foggy brain as you begin to float. You try to focus on one feeling at a time, his cock sliding in and out of you, his hands on yours, his warm breath on your ear, the vibrations on the tortured nub between your legs. It’s too much all together. You let yourself go, brain wiping completely as you buck senselessly against the pillow, trying to meet his hips. You cum without realizing that the feeling was creeping up on you, attacked with pleasure as you collapse on the bed in total bliss. Matty’s not far behind, watching you unravel beneath him makes his ego swell and he fucks into you even harder than before.

“I need a second,” you say. It catches Matty off-guard and he stills above you, pulling out slowly. He turns you on your back so he can see your eyes.

“You okay?” he searches your face for any discomfort.

“I’m fucking great. Just sensitive. Were you close?” you ask, suddenly concerned you’ve ruined it for him.

“Yeah, I was,” he seems unbothered. He smiles down at you. You take his hard cock in your hand and begin to pump him over your stomach. “Fuuuuuuuck,” his head rolls back, “can I come in your mouth?”

You kneel in response and push him down onto his back and take him in your mouth, bobbing up and down, wetting him completely and keeping the pressure on him. He reaches out to grab your hand as he begins to spurt into your mouth. The salty tang of him tastes like victory. You smile at him; a content, fucked out grin and then swallow. He wipes a bit left over by the side of your mouth.

“C’mere,” he whines and pulls you into him again. “Goddamn you’re so good to me.”

“Aw don’t go soft on me now, Healy,” you taunt. He groans.

“Don’t be cute. I just came, I don’t have my wits well enough about me to go toe-to-toe with you,” he responds.

“Now if only you’d admit the same about the rest of the time,” you muse.

“Cheeky,” he bops your nose. You let silence fill the room for a moment.

“How long are you here for?” you question, looking up at him. A word from him could change the course of your life, it seems. No, you’re not in love with him. You wouldn’t let yourself do that. But god it feels right with him. It makes sense that you’d want to prolong your time with him for as long as possible. You’re not you when you’re with him. Well yes, you’re you, but a freer, less encumbered you. Like you’re on vacation, or on ecstasy…or something. He makes all the hurt go away. All of the hurt is outside, and inside is a protective fort of your own making. Your shelter.

“Five days. ‘Til Sunday,” he says, “can’t stand the heat longer than that.” You know Matty hates Los Angeles. You don’t blame him, really. It doesn’t seem anything like home to him.

But it still makes you sad. That he might spend bits of his free time in other places just because he likes the atmosphere better. That he would choose to be away from you even though you feel more like home to him than any city could.

“Okay,” you say. It didn’t really need an answer. You can’t see him every day anyways. You have a job and housemates that will wonder where you are, and a mother who’s always begging you to come by for dinner. You don’t tell them about him: your booty call, the rockstar. That would go over well. Anyways, you two are the only ones who get you. Everything goes bad once it leaves the safe-haven you’ve carefully built for yourselves. Rumors and questions and judgements. You’d rather keep it all here. Where it can be perfect.

“Will you tell me about Spain?” you query as you nestle yourself back into him, pushing away the future and snuggling back into the present.

“It was fucking unreal, darlin’. You would have loved it. All these breathtaking old churches and mosques. People dancing, playing guitar, and cheering in the streets. And the food, god. I know you too well to take you there, you would eat yourself silly and then tell me you’re too full to make love to me,” he chuckles.

“That seems like an appropriate behavior on vacation,” you push back.

“It is, but I want you all to myself,” he flips the two of you onto your sides and buries his head in your chest as he squeezes you impossibly closer. “Does that make me selfish?”

His voice sounds so small when it’s coming from under the covers.

“Maybe,” you say. He looks up at you like he might be hurt, “but I’m selfish when it comes to you, too.” You consider your next words, scared to be too candid. No, you think, If anyone would want me to be honest, it’s Matty.

“I get a little rush when you tell me that you haven’t been with anyone since you last saw me,” you say tentatively.

“Me too, sweetheart. It’s different with you.” You breathe a sigh of relief. You sit up and grab the glasses off the side table and go to the restroom. You relieve yourself quickly and fill the water cups, bringing them back to bed.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say. Matty raises his eyebrows in answer as he takes a sip of water. “What does it really feel like for guys when you have sex with girls? You guys always act like it feels so good when you first put it in. Is it really like that every time?”

Matty smiles softly at your earnestness. “I thought you were gonna ask me something serious,” he teases.

“I am being serious,” you insist.

He considers you, your expression, your posture. Deciding what you want from him. The truth, he thinks. All she ever wants is the truth. He takes you in his arms.

“You know when you get back from a holiday and you get to sleep in your bed on your pillow again for the first time in weeks?” you nod along. “It’s like that, but a thousand, no— a million times better. Especially if it’s with someone you know. It’s a relief. It’s safe. It feels like coming home.” You look at him, searching for any little bit of artifice. You find none, you should know by now that you won’t find any with him. Why can’t you trust that?

“You feel like coming home, darlin’.”

You believe him. You agree. So why does it still hurt? You put your head on his chest and close your eyes.

“So do you. Thanks for taking me home.”

“Anytime.”

You know he doesn’t quite mean it—any time he’s in town, yes. Anytime he’s not with a groupie in Japan. Anytime he’s not dealing with some work obligation or visiting his family in England. But as sleep begins to crowd your brain, you let yourself take his words at face value. Anytime. Anytime. He’ll come home anytime.

a/n: please tell me your thoughts etc. I hope this brightens your day! see you all at satvb this fall <3

[darlingdesire]

"Not all men..."

You're right. Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, son of Shmi Skywalker, The Chosen One, wouldn't treat me like this.