Jobe loves to surprise you, but he doesn't do it in an obvious or clichĂŠ way. Instead of flowers at the door of the house, he books a private cooking class because he knows you casually commented on learning how to make typical food from somewhere. He listens to the small details and transforms them into big gestures. And the best? He gets a shy smile, a little embarrassed, waiting for your reaction, as if he didn't know he got it right.
2. He memorises your favourite playlist
Jobe knows all the songs you love. He has a playlist on Spotify called "For Y/n" and whenever he hears a song that reminds you, he adds it. The cutest thing is that sometimes he plays when you're in the car, just to see you sing. And of course, when they are separated, he sends a song from the list with a "I remembered you."
3. He's a great cook (but only for you)
Despite being a disaster in the kitchen when he's alone, Jobe makes a real effort when it's for you. He learns basic recipes and ventures with more elaborate dishes just because he knows you like them. It's always an event: he puts on music, tries to follow recipes on YouTube, and in the end, the kitchen is a mess. But he compensates by putting the food on the table with a proud smile, waiting for your compliment.
4. He is the best listener in the world
Jobe has a special talent for hearing you talk about absolutely anything. If you're talking about a book, about the new series you watched, or even about something you read in an academic article, he pays attention with genuine interest. He asks questions, gives opinions, and you feel like the most important person in the world.
5. He's absurdly affectionate in public
He's not afraid to show how much he loves you in public. Whenever you are walking together, he holds your hand, gives quick kisses on tour forehead or wraps you with his big arm when it's cold. He doesn't care if there are paparazzi around or if someone is watching - he just wants you to know that he is there, on your side, always.
6. He's the type who solves fights calmly (and hugs)
Jobe hates fights and discord, especially with you. He is the one who tries to solve everything calmly and by talking. Even when he is angry, he takes a deep breath, tries to listen to his side and speaks carefully. If he feels that the discussion is too heavy, he interrupts and says: "Let's breathe and talk about it later, I don't want to hurt you." And, of course, he never lets you sleep upset - he always ends the night with an apology or a tight hug.
7. He is super protective, but not in a possessive way
He is the kind of boyfriend who ensures that you feel safe all the time. It is protective in a subtle way - like being careful when they are in crowded places, holding your hand so they don't get lost, or checking the car before a trip. He is never possessive, but everyone knows that you are the love of his life.
8. He encourages your dreams (and remembers the details)
Jobe not only believes in your dreams, but also makes a point of being the greatest supporter. If you have a new project, he is the first to ask how he can help. He also remembers the smallest details, like when you mentioned that you wanted to go back to practising something, and sent cute messages before the first day saying how proud you were.
9. He is very organised, except when he is in love
Most of the time, Jove is super organised: the closet is tidy, the schedules are in place and he follows an impeccable routine. But when he's with you, it all falls apart. He forgets his socks on the couch because they were watching a movie together or leaves the bed untidy because he preferred to sleep a little more to the solo. He always says that you are the only thing that messes up his life - in a good way.
10. He's unbearably cute when he's jealous
Jobe is mature and confident, but even he can't resist a little jealousy from time to time. If someone flirts with you, he doesn't make a scene, but the closed look and the hand on your waist deliver everything. Then, he jokes: "Just for you to remember, you already have a very good english by your side." And of course, you love to provoke him just to see this reaction - which only makes him even more cute and in love.
Jobe x reader (fem!reader) (explicit/ suggested sex)
Jobe stepped out of the sleek black SUV, the cool night air of the city brushing against his skin as he nodded a quick thanks to the driver. The brand event had been a whirlwindâflashing cameras, endless handshakes, and too many glasses of champagne that left him buzzing but not quite satisfied. He adjusted the brim of his black cowboy hat, the silver conchos catching the hotel's lobby lights, and tugged at the fringes of his leather jacket. The outfit was a nod to the Western-themed campaign he'd just endorsed: black leather jacket with dramatic fringes swaying from the sleeves and yoke, a heavy silver chain necklace dangling against his chest, dark jeans hugging his thighs with a wallet chain swinging loosely from his hip, and those ornate cowboy boots that clicked authoritatively against the marble floor. Rings adorned his fingersâtwo on the left hand, one on the rightâcool metal reminders of the night's excess.
He glanced at his watch as he rode the elevator up to his suite. Midnight. His flight wasn't until morning, and you, his ever-efficient agent, had texted earlier that you'd swing by in an hour to go over the post-event notes. Plenty of time, he thought, a smirk tugging at his lips. The adrenaline from the event lingered, mixing with the solitude of the empty hallway as he swiped his keycard and slipped inside.
The room was lavish, all muted grays and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering skyline. Jobe kicked the door shut behind him, not bothering to lock itâforce of habit from years of trusting hotel security. He shrugged off the jacket first, letting it drape over the armchair, the fringes whispering against the fabric. The necklace stayed on, cool against his heated skin as he unbuckled the belt, the ornate silver buckle clinking softly. His boots came next, tugged off with a grunt and set aside, revealing socked feet that he flexed against the carpet.
He sank onto the edge of the king-sized bed, the jeans still clinging to his legs, the wallet chain jingling as he shifted. The event had been full of eyes on himâfans, influencers, executivesâbut none of it scratched the itch building inside. He had time. Why not? His hand drifted down, palming himself through the denim, feeling the growing hardness beneath. A low sigh escaped him as he popped the button on his jeans, zipper rasping down slowly. He leaned back against the pillows, hat still perched on his head at a jaunty angle, one hand slipping inside his boxers while the other pushed the jeans down just enough to free himself.
The room was quiet save for his breathing, quickening as he wrapped his fingers around his length, stroking lazily at first. The rings on his left hand caught the light from the bedside lamp, adding a faint chill to the warmth building in his core. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, eyes fluttering shut as he picked up the pace, imagining the faceless admirers from the night but letting his mind wander to something more personal. You. The way you'd looked at him earlier, clipboard in hand, all professional poise but with that subtle glance that lingered a second too long on his outfit. His hips bucked slightly, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple under the hat's brim.
He was lost in it now, hand moving with purpose, the chain necklace swaying with each motion. His free hand gripped the sheets, rings digging in as tension coiled tighter. A soft groan built in his throatâ
The door clicked open.
"Jobe? I wrapped up early, thought we couldâoh my God!"
You froze in the doorway, keycard still in hand, eyes wide as they locked onto the scene before you. The portfolio of notes slipped from your fingers, scattering across the floor like confetti. Heat flooded your cheeks, but you couldn't look awayâthere he was, sprawled on the bed in that damn outfit, jeans shoved down his thighs, hand still wrapped around himself, cowboy hat tilted back just enough to reveal his flushed face and parted lips.
Jobe's eyes snapped open, his body jolting uprightâor trying to, anyway. "Shitâwait, what theâ?" He scrambled to pull the sheets over himself, but the movement only made the wallet chain rattle louder, his rings catching on the fabric. His face burned, a mix of embarrassment and lingering arousal twisting his features. "You... you're early! I thought you said an hour!"
"IâI did, but the meeting ended sooner than expected, and I figured... God, Jobe, I'm so sorry!" You turned halfway, hand over your eyes, but not before stealing another glanceâhis broad shoulders under the open shirt, the fringes of the discarded jacket nearby, those boots kicked haphazardly by the bed. The image was seared into your brain, equal parts mortifying and... intriguing. "I should've knocked. Or texted. Orâfuck, I'll just goâ"
"Wait, noâdon't." His voice came out rougher than intended, still breathless from the interruption. He sat up fully now, yanking his jeans back into place with one hand while adjusting the hat with the other, trying to regain some semblance of cool. The necklace glinted as he leaned forward, a sheepish grin breaking through despite the situation. "It's... it's my fault. Door wasn't locked. Just, uh, give me a sec?"
You hesitated, back still half-turned, heart pounding in your ears. The air felt thick, charged with the unspoken. "Are you... decent now?"
"Mostly." There was a hint of amusement in his tone, cutting through the awkwardness. He zipped up, though the bulge was still evident, and ran a ringed hand through his hair under the hat. "Come on, turn around. Not like you haven't seen worse in this industry."
You lowered your hand, facing him fully, picking up the scattered papers to give yourself something to do. Your eyes flicked to his outfitâthe way the jeans hugged his legs, the chain dangling from his pocket, the rings catching the light. "I mean, I haven't walked in on my client mid... whatever that was. Brand event got you that worked up?"
He chuckled, low and self-deprecating, leaning back against the headboard with his arms crossed, fringes from the nearby jacket brushing his elbow. "Something like that. Long night, you know? All that attention, but none of it real. Figured I'd... handle it." His gaze met yours, bold now, the initial shock fading into something playful. "You gonna pretend you didn't see anything, or...?"
You swallowed, setting the papers on the desk, trying to play it cool despite the heat pooling in your stomach. "Pretend? With that image burned into my retinas? You're still in the cowboy getup, Jobe. It's like walking into a bad porno plot."
"Bad? Ouch." He tilted the hat back further, smirking as he stood up slowly, boots forgotten on the floor. His socked feet padded closer, the wallet chain jingling softly. "Could be worse. Could make it a good one." He paused, close enough now that you could smell the faint cologne mixed with leather. "Unless you're really leaving."
The invitation hung in the air, his ringed fingers flexing at his sides. You met his eyes, the professional line blurring in the dim hotel light. "And if I stay?"
"Then lock the door this time," he said, voice dropping an octave, a grin flashing as he reached past you to do it himself. The click echoed, sealing the momentâand whatever came next.
No packed schedule. No constant travel. No noise loud enough to drown out what Jobe had been avoiding. Snow pressed softly against the windows of his family home, the world slowed to a pace he wasnât used toâand didnât like.
Jobe stood in the kitchen, phone in his hand, staring at a message he hadnât opened.
đ:Miss you. When can I come over?
A heart replacing her name. Earnest. Patient.
He locked the screen and placed the phone face-down on the counter.
His mum noticed immediately.
âYouâre doing that again,â she said.
âDoing what?â Jobe replied, not looking up.
âLike the phoneâs offended you.â
He exhaled. âIâm tired.â
âYouâve been tired all week.â
Snow drifted past the window. Quiet filled the space between them.
âIs she coming over later?â his mum asked.
He hesitated. âShe asked whenâ
âAnd?â
âI don't know, maybe when I'm less tired..â
That was enough for his mum to sit across from him.
âYou donât say âmaybeâ when youâre excited, and you especially don't make an excuse that you're too tired for her to come over..â
âThat doesnât mean anything.â
âIt means youâre somewhere else,â she said calmly.
âYou used to talk about her. Now you talk around her.â
Her eyes searched his face. âIs there someone else?â
âYea,â he said honestly. âNot recently. But⌠yes.â
She nodded slowly. âI thought so.â
âIâm sorry.â
âI know,â she said quietly. âYou look like someone who never let go.â
They ended it cleanly. Painful, but peaceful.
That night, Jobe booked a flight to London.
---
The knock on your door is unexpected enough that you almost donât answer it.
When you do, your brain stalls.
Jobe stands there like he belongsâhands in his coat pockets, hair damp from the cold, familiar in a way that tightens your chest before you can stop it.
You blink. Once. Twice.
âYouâre kidding,â you say.
âHi,â he replies.
âNo. Why are you here?â
âWinter break.â
You stare at him. âThatâs not an answer.â
You step back anyway, and he walks in like muscle memory, like he hasnât spent months only existing through phone calls. The door shuts behind him, the sound heavier than it should be.
âI talked to you two days ago,â you say. âYou were in Germany.â
âI know.â
âAnd now youâre here. In London.â
âYes.â
You fold your arms. âDid you lose a bet?â
He smiles faintly. âMissed your hospitality.â
You scoff. âYour five-star model girlfriend finally get tired of you?â
Something shifts in his face.
âSheâs not my girlfriend anymore.â
The joke dies instantly.
ââŚWhat?â
âI broke up with her yesterday.â
You stare at him, waiting for the punchline. It doesnât come.
âYou donât just say that,â you mutter. âYou donât break up with someone and then show up at my door.â
âI know,â he says. âBut it wasnât nothing.â
You turn toward the kitchen, needing space, needing movement. Your hands busy themselves with the kettle.
âSo what is this?â you ask. âA rebound flight?â
âNo.â
âGuilt?â
âNo.â
You glance back at him. âThen explain it to me.â
âI couldnât stop thinking about you,â he says. âEvery time she joked, every time she tried to understand my world, it just reminded me that you already did.â
âThatâs not fair,â you say immediately.
âI know. Thatâs why I ended it.â
You swallow. âYou chose distance. You chose to leave Germany without me.â
âI chose football,â he replies. âAnd I thought I could survive the rest.â
You let out a quiet, humorless laugh. âAnd?â
âTerribly.â
Silence settles.
âI joke about her because itâs easier than admitting I miss you,â you admit softly.
âI know,â he says. âYouâve never been good at lying to me.â
The kettle clicks off.
You pour the water, hands steadier now, and pass him a mug. Your fingers brush. Brief. Loud.
âYou look awful,â you say.
âThanks.â
âI mean it,â you add. âLike you havenât slept.â
âI havenât,â he admits. âNot properly.â
You lean against the counter, studying him. âYou canât just walk back into my life.â
âIâm not asking to,â he says. âI just didnât want to keep hiding behind calls anymore.â
âYou always hated phone calls ending,â you murmur.
âBecause I always had more to say.â
Outside, snow falls thick and slow, London muted under winter.
âYouâre still an idiot,â you say.
He smiles softly. âYeah.â
Winter break finally did what nothing else could.
It slowed everything down enough for both of you to stop pretending.
Italy has a way of making the world feel like it belongs to you for a few days. The sun dips low over the cliffs, turning the water molten gold. Youâre sitting on the bow of Judeâs yacht, knees tucked up, sunglasses pushed into your hair, and Jobe is beside you. Shoulder brushing shoulder, foot nudging yours whenever the boat rocks.
Itâs subtle. Almost imperceptible. But itâs yours.
âYouâve been quiet for a while,â Jobe says, voice low, teasing.
âIâm just⌠soaking it in,â you reply, eyes on the water.
âMhm. Thatâs what they all say,â he murmurs, leaning back on his hands. âFunny how scenery looks different when youâre with someone you⌠like being near.â
You glance at him, and his grin is impossible to resist. âYouâre ridiculous,â you mutter, though your mouth curves upward.
âOnly when Iâm relaxed,â he says, stretching his arms along the railing behind you. âYou should try it sometime.â
âI am relaxed,â you insist, though your thumb idly taps your phone on your lap.
âChecking emails again?â he teases, eyes narrowing playfully.
âHabit,â you reply. âDonât judge.â
He shrugs, nudging your shoulder lightly with his own. âIâm just making sure someoneâs enjoying the vacation. BesidesâŚâ He leans a little closer, voice soft. ââŚI think you look better when youâre relaxed.â
You bite back a smile, suddenly aware of the warmth between you. âFlattery wonât get you anything,â you warn.
âMaybe it already has,â he says, and itâs quiet, just for you.
The yacht drifts into a secluded stretch of water. Judeâs laughter drifts faintly from below deckâcompletely oblivious. It gives you the strange comfort of being hidden in plain sight. Jobe shifts closer, knee pressing lightly against yours. His fingers brush yours, casual, unhurried.
âYou cold?â he asks.
âNo,â you say, though your chest flutters at the touch.
âGood,â he says, letting his hand rest against yours. âI like this⌠small stuff.â
You glance at him. âSmall stuff?â
âYeah. No cameras, no practice schedules, no calls. Just⌠this,â he gestures vaguely between the two of you. âFeels different with you. Like I can breathe.â
Your thumb brushes over his knuckles. âI feel the same.â
Later, youâre standing on the deck as the sun tilts toward evening. The horizon glows pink and orange. You point toward a small cliffside village. âLook, see those lights?â
âMm,â Jobe murmurs, moving close under the excuse of seeing better. Foreheads touch briefly. âPerfect spot.â
You glance at him, and he smiles softly. One brief, careful kiss happens without thought, lips barely brushing. Warm. Certain. Just enough to mark the moment yours.
The rest of the afternoon drifts lazily. You wrap yourselves in towels on deck, sipping fruit juices, tossing playful glances at each other, quiet laughter escaping between sentences. Jobe nudges your foot under the towel; you tease him back with a gentle poke.
âDonât get used to me being nice,â he says, feigning seriousness.
âYou already are,â you reply, grinning.
âYou think this is easy?â he asks, voice soft. âBeing like this?â
âI donât know,â you admit. âItâs⌠worth it, though.â
âAlways,â he murmurs, brushing his thumb over yours, hidden under the towel.
You stay like that for hours, letting the boat drift, letting the world fade. Cameras could be anywhere, strangers could be watchingâbut it doesnât matter. Not now.
A week later, back in your hotel, you scroll through social media and freeze. Someone tagged a photo from the yacht: Jobe leaning close, fingers intertwined with yours, foreheads touching. The sunlight sparkles on the water behind you. A picture-perfect momentâexactly how it looked in real life.
You show Jobe, who reads it once, then twice. His brow furrows, but he doesnât look angryâjust a little amused, a little frustrated.
âThey got⌠all of it,â he mutters.
âLooks better than it felt,â you say softly.
He smirks, squeezing your hand under the table. âWell⌠at least we know itâs a good photo.â
âAnd it still doesnât change anything,â you reply.
âExactly. Only we know what it really was,â he says, thumb brushing yours.
And thatâs enough. Even if the world sees a perfect couple on vacation, you know the quiet corners, the small touches, the private smiles that are truly yours.
---------------
A/N: Ahh this is so cute omg, it just popped up in my brain and I had to write it!!! Also shout out to Kali Uchis and her music because she's the only reason I wrote this
The dim room was alive with heat as Jobe pressed you onto the bed, hands roaming greedily.
âIâve wanted this all fucking day,â he groaned, pulling your shirt over your head. Lips brushed your neck, teeth grazing, teasing.
âJobe⌠pleaseâŚâ you moaned, legs trembling.
He knelt between your thighs, eyes dark with hunger. âSo wet for meâŚâ he whispered, pressing his tongue against your folds.
Moans ripped from your throat as he explored you with his mouth, flicking his tongue expertly over every sensitive spot. His fingers teased inside you, curling just right, making your body arch uncontrollably.
âGod⌠Jobe⌠oh god⌠Iâmââ
âShh⌠let me hear you scream my name,â he murmured, lips and fingers working together, every motion designed to make you shiver and moan.
You came hard, trembling, hips jerking, every nerve alive. He didnât stop, continuing to lap, suck, and tease until every shiver passed, whispering praises and claiming every inch of you.
Finally, he kissed you softly, sliding into you slowly, hands gripping your hips as you moaned at the sensation of him filling you completely.
But he didnât stop there.
He groaned the second he was fully inside you, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he whispered, âFuck⌠you feel unreal⌠so warm⌠so tight around meâŚâ
You whimpered, legs wrapping around his waist automatically, trying to pull him even deeper.
He laughed breathlessly, the sound low and rough. âGreedy⌠you want all of me that bad, huh?â
You nodded helplessly. âJobe, move⌠pleaseâŚâ
He pulled back just an inch â slow enough to make your whole body tense
then pushed in deeper, the stretch making your breath catch.
âLook at you,â he whispered, one hand sliding up to your throat, thumb brushing lightly along your pulse. âAlready shaking⌠and Iâve barely started.â
He thrust again, deeper, harder, making your back arch off the mattress. His hips pressed flush to yours, grinding just enough to hit your most sensitive spot with precision.
Your nails clawed at his shoulders, dragging down his back as you moaned, âOh my godâJobeââ
âThatâs it,â he breathed, voice cracking with how good you felt. âSay my name like that again.â
He pulled out slow, teasing you with the drag, then slammed back in with a force that made the headboard hit the wall. You gasped, eyes fluttering shut, head tipping back.
âNoâlook at me,â he growled, grabbing your jaw gently, guiding your gaze back to his. âI want to see your face when you fall apart for me.â
He kept thrusting, deeper, harder, each one angled perfectly. The room filled with the sound of your moans, his groans, the steady rhythm of your bodies meeting.
âYou feel so fucking good,â he whispered between breaths. âIâm not stopping until you come again.â
His hand slid down, fingers circling your clit in slow, devastating circles that had you writhing beneath him instantly.
âJobeâoh godâJobe, Iâmââ
âDo it,â he urged, hips snapping faster, breath hot against your lips. âCome on my cock⌠I want to feel you lose it.â
The combination â his voice, the way he filled you, the pressure of his fingers â sent you over the edge violently, pleasure ripping through you so hard your vision blurred. You cried out his name, legs shaking around him, whole body arching into him.
He groaned, hips stuttering as he felt you clench around him, the sensation wrecking him. âFuckâjust like thatâdonât stopâdonât stopââ
You trembled beneath him, body still twitching from the aftershocks, and he slowed only slightly, grinding deep inside you as he chased his own release.
âGonna come inside you,â he whispered, voice raw, forehead pressed to yours. âFeel you⌠feel all of you⌠fuckââ
His thrusts grew messier, breathless, desperate â and then he buried himself deep, groaning your name as he came hard, gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go.
He stayed there, breathing into your neck, both of you undone and trembling.
After a long moment, he kissed your jaw, soft and slow, whispering:
i think because of the whole "writers write for themselves" notion that's becoming increasingly popularized, people forget that we still thrive off interaction and kindness. i write for myself but kudos and comments and bookmarks and really any sort of interaction with my fics genuinely motivates me to keep writing and keep sharing my works.
