#don’t say all of that just yet 🥰🥰

[buckyys-babydoll-library]

It’s not me absolutely giggling and kicking my feet because he’s so damn adorable. This man can be such a thick, beefy, grumpy man but once he’s down the rabbit hole for his girl. He’s freaking soft and adorable. And I love him so much!

You write him so amazingly. Sweet, passionate. Funny and charming. Fell in love with him once again, thanks to you, J!🩷

And Bucky Barnes is counting.

Adorable you say? NAH! He’s a walking cinnamon roll with the sweetest sugar and cinnamon. Served with glazed sugar!🤭

He pokes you. Right in the side.

AHAHAAHHAHAAHAHH! I’m kicking my feet so hard! THIS! THIIIISSSSS! Right here!🙂‍↕️The charming, childish him. Makes him boyish and yet so cute. Just perfectly.🥰

“I've been standin’ here,” he says, calm as ever, trying to sound like someone who isn’t folding from the inside out. “Watching you walk past me like I’m invisible. That’s cruel, sweetheart. Cold-blooded.”

Poor Baby! How dare you, huh? But aargggghhh! Why is he so damn adorable. I mean like, please? Just gimme that man! He needs some kisses on his nose and forehead. And I’m willing to give him these sweet kisses he wants so bad!🥺🩷

“Would’ve waved, but my hand’s all tired from waiting.”

His hands are tired. Poor baby has to poke because had had to wait so long for her attention! Secretly he’s just a puppy who needs some love and poking is the easiest way to get her attention and love!🙂‍↕️ We got ya trick, Buck!

Their whole conversation and interaction is just so precious. I could point out like every sentence. Every word. They are adorable together, so sweet.🙂‍↕️

Like they both know how to annoy one another affectionately while they don’t want to annoy one another.🤭 She’s doing her job. And he’s a puppy in love. But then!

BUMM! POKING! 🥰. And they interact and it’s like they both know deep down there’s more than just their work relationship.🩷

The way he feels for her. Like she’s the sun in his universe. The brightness. The light he can hold onto when it’s getting dark. It’s just perfection!

Or kiss him. He prefers the latter.

I do too! Definitely the latter. Let’s kiss. Just— just a bit closer and KISS!🙂‍↕️ He’s so desperate to get her attention, it’s adorable.🥺

He’ll be here waiting.

Poking.

Thank you for making me fall unbelievably harder for that man. Our puppy dog. Our cinnamon roll. Just a precious baby who deserves all the love. And maybe he deserves a few kisses for waiting and poking! He’s being such a good boy, isn’t he?😂🥺

This is brilliant! And I absolutely adore and love that one. Precious. Sweet. Wonderful.

Look at Me Like That Again

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Waitress!Reader

Summary: Bucky desperately needs your attention while you’re on shift in his bar.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: so much longing; Bucky is a man in love; mild alcohol use; bar setting; Bucky being a dramatic kicked puppy

Author’s Note: Oh I enjoyed writing this so much. Thank you for the idea, my lovely!! I hope you like what I made of your cute little prompt ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

It’s the fifteenth time you've passed him.

Fifteen.

And Bucky Barnes is counting.

Because you don’t look at him when you pass.

And it’s been over an hour since you walked in wearing that stupid little apron that hugs your waist and the shirt he hates because it’s too tight and too low and everyone looks at you too long when you wear it. Everyone except him, of course.

Bucky doesn’t look.

He watches.

There’s a difference, you see.

You breeze through the bar as though you’ve got the whole damn place in your pocket, and maybe you do. These guys love you. They light up when you laugh, when you lean in to hear them over the music, when you call them hon in that voice soft enough to sew people back together.

You’re the only brightness in this place and you don’t even know it.

Your hair is already starting to come loose. You are balancing three empty glasses in one hand and a notepad in the other, reciting someone’s order from memory while still smiling, still glowing.

Bucky is leaned up against the bar like a damn decoration. He’s been standing here, useless, for at least twenty minutes. Arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes strained on your every step. You haven’t spared him so much as a glance since the jukebox changed songs, now crooning some worn-out rock ballad from two decades ago. Since the light shifted and the golden hour crawled in through the windows as if it was chasing you.

God, you look good in gold.

He doesn’t even know what to do with himself. He’s cleaned the same spot three times. Cleaned the same glass four times before he realized he wasn’t even holding it anymore. He doesn’t even drink soda but the can of Coke next to him has been sweating beside his hand for half an hour. Warm now. Forgotten.

Just like him apparently.

You walk by. Don’t see him. Or maybe you do - but you don’t stop. Don’t smile just for him.

He can’t have that.

Not when you just smiled for that asshole in booth seven who licked his lips when you placed his beer.

He doesn’t know what his expression might look to others but he doesn’t care. He is sincerely displeased.

Sixteenth time. You float past, apron flaring, pen poised, eyes stitched to your tray or the screen or the sticky table by the window, but it’s never him.

He doesn’t like that. At all. He needs your attention, and he needs it now.

So when you swerve past again, too busy balancing an order for the back booth where one of his patrons is dramatically retelling some story to the others like he isn’t loud enough for the whole bar to hear, Bucky does what any reasonable man would do.

He pokes you. Right in the side.

You jolt mid-step, the drinks on your tray tilting before you balance them out. “Bucky.”

But he doesn’t hear the warning edge in your tone. Because your eyes meet his and suddenly everything inside him goes very, very quiet.

“I've been standin’ here,” he says, calm as ever, trying to sound like someone who isn’t folding from the inside out. “Watching you walk past me like I’m invisible. That’s cruel, sweetheart. Cold-blooded.”

You roll your eyes, though there is amusement tugging at your mouth. “You’re not invisible.”

“Oh, good,” he drawls, leaning forward, eyes shining beneath dark lashes. “Then I don’t have to haunt the place. Thought maybe I died and no one told me.”

You sigh. “You’re a child.”

“You’re the one ignoring me in my own damn bar.”

“I’m working, Barnes,” you emphasize.

He shrugs, a slow, unapologetic shift of his shoulders. “And I’m just standin’ here. Bein’ patient. Watching you ignore me in new and creative ways.”

You step back, turn, face him fully this time. He meets your gaze like he’s been waiting for it all night. Maybe all week. Maybe always.

You stare at him as though he’s something between a hurricane warning and a kicked puppy at your feet.

“You poked me,” you deadpan.

“Did,” he says, grinning. Not even a little sorry. “Would’ve waved, but my hand’s all tired from waiting.”

You huff. But it’s not annoyance. It’s the laugh you’re trying not to give him. The soft kind. The one that lives behind your teeth when he says dumb things with that mouth that should know better.

His chest warms. Truly warms. As though someone struck a match behind his ribs and the light spills into his bloodstream.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you, Bucky. But I do have work to do, alright? So you’ll have to excuse me.” You don’t look that apologetic either when you turn around again and trek down the bar to the booth where people are waiting for you.

But he’s waiting for you too. Tragically so. He doesn’t take his eyes off you when you place the drinks, when the guys thank you, when you smile that smile back, when you turn and walk away, when you are about to pass him again.

Poke.

You sigh as if you expected it.

He leans in slightly, as if he could soak in your heat and keep it. But your smell already makes him dizzy. “I’m not gonna stop poking you until you give me some attention, doll.”

You stare at him as if you want to throw a napkin at his face. Or kiss him. He prefers the latter. Although the former surely would be a privilege since it’s you throwing it.

“I do give you attention, Barnes. I’m literally talking to you right now,” you counter, slightly exasperated, but there is that fond smile forming, you just don’t let it out fully.

But it still does things to him. Hits his heart first, then spreads - to his cheeks, his fingertips, down his spine. That smile is a gift, a spark. It makes him foolish. Hopeful. It makes him dream in full color.

Bucky taps the counter, shaking his head. “You know you’ve walked by eighteen times now?”

“Eighteen?”

“Eighteen. I counted. Steve’s my witness.”

You glance behind the bar. Steve’s got two glasses in his hands and is pretending not to watch. Is pretending not to smirk.

There’s a pause. You’re still close enough to touch. The fabric of your shirt brushes his arm when you move. You smell like citrus and cinnamon gum and whatever soap you use that’s probably way too fancy for a dive like this.

But you don’t belong in places that are easy.

“You’ve been runnin’ around like you’re holding the ceiling up,” he says quietly, not even meaning to. “Just wanted to remind you I’m still here.”

And for a breath - a half-second crack in the wall you’re keeping up - you look at him. Really at him. He might even believe you see the thing he’s too afraid to name, but you don’t run from it.

“I know, Buck,” you say, smiling sweetly. Like a secret sunrise just for him.

And his body shuts down. Doesn’t even let him take in some air. Who needs that anyway when he’s got you?

Your eyes catch and hold. The noise of the bar slips sideways. Everything tilts.

Then someone calls out your name - loud, without the care he uses when saying your name, just another order. You turn with a smile already forming on your lips, moving back into your orbit, back into theirs.

But before you go, you look at him over your shoulder. Just for a second. Just long enough to ruin him for the rest of the night.

He watches you walk seven steps to the bar's edge.

He grins. Leans back. Taps his boot against the counter.

That’s alright, baby.

He’ll be here waiting.

Poking.

Always.

[sugardollcurse]

hi!! how are you? hope you're having a good week!

i love your fics so much i felt need to make a request🤍 (my first one ever hahaha) of course take your time and do it when you can. i'm sorry if it's confusing, this is my first time doing this:

it would basically be Paul being completely smitten with reader and not being able to keep his hands off her (she loves it of course, they're both drunk in love). he is constantly telling everyone how in love he is. the thing is reader isn't used to that behavior because her exes have always played it cool, avoiding commitment and keeping the relationship secret, so maybe she's confused?

anyway, thanks so much for your writing, you really have talent! hope you can see this! 🥰

-🐝

𝒄𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒊𝒕 | paul mccartney x fem!reader

𐙚 summary ; paul doesn’t know how to love you quietly, and frankly, he doesn’t want to. he’s falling hard and everyone knows it. the only problem? you’ve never been loved like this before.

𐙚 note ; ...what a delectable little request you’ve brought to my doorstep… also, i’m having a lovely week! i hope you are as well ♡

You first noticed it during lunch.

You’d only been together a few weeks, nothing serious yet... not officially, not out loud. But there you were, tucked in the booth beside Paul at a café near the studio, and he was sat so close you could feel his smile before you saw it.

“Tell them what you said last night,” he said, nudging you with his knee. “Y’know, that bit about the red coat. I thought it was dead clever.”

You blinked. “It wasn’t anything, just-”

“It was though.” He leaned in closer, grinning. “Don’t be modest now. She’s got a way with words, this one. Proper poetic.”

George raised an eyebrow. “She sayin’ poetry about your coat, Paul, or are you just tryin’ to flatter her into writin’ your next song?”

Paul looked offended. “Oi. I am flattered by her, thank you very much.”

Ringo snorted into his tea. John gave you a smirk like he was watching a sitcom unfold. But Paul just took your hand under the table and laced his fingers through yours like it was nothing. Like it was normal.

You weren’t used to that.

You’d had boyfriends before. The kind who’d change the subject when someone asked who you were. The kind who’d say cool it if you reached for their hand in public. Who never once introduced you as anything but a friend.

Paul had already called you my girl five times this week, and it was only Wednesday.

━━

The clinginess wasn’t needy. It was… tethering.

Whenever he walked into a room, his first instinct was to find you. His second was to put his hand somewhere on you. Your shoulder, your back, your thigh. Just to know you were there. Just to let you know he was.

One night, you were all at George and Pattie's place for drinks. You’d gone off to help in the kitchen, and when you came back, Paul was halfway through telling a story.

“-and she just walks right up to the bloke, says, ‘Is that your idea of subtle?’ And he froze. I swear, I’ve never seen someone go that red in my life.”

You paused in the doorway. “You’re telling stories about me?”

Paul lit up the moment he saw you. “Of course I am.”

You shook your head, but he was already reaching for you, patting his lap. “C’mere.”

“I can sit on the couch like a normal person.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but I like you here.”

You sat, only because his eyes were all soft and hopeful like that, and he wrapped his arms around your waist like a child clinging to a stuffed animal.

John made a face. "You're so in love, it's disgusting."

Paul just kissed your shoulder without breaking eye contact. “You’d be lucky to feel it, mate.”

Your breath hitched at that.

You weren’t used to that kind of love, spoken out loud, worn on sleeves, pressed into skin like it belonged there.

━━

When the two of you were alone, it was worse.

Well, better. But also worse.

Paul didn’t know how to not touch you. He’d wander up behind you while you were brushing your teeth and drape himself over your back like a second skin. He’d lie in bed staring at you like you were made of stars. He kissed your forehead like it was a compulsion.

One morning, you stirred awake to find him already looking at you.

“What?” you whispered, voice still rough from sleep.

He smiled, sleepy-eyed and soft. “M’sorry, just… you’re dead lovely like this.”

You blinked at him. “Like what?”

“All sleepy. S’quiet moment, innit?” He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Makes me wanna marry you.”

You stared.

He laughed immediately. “Sorry, too much? I’m always sayin’ too much, I know-”

“No,” you said, too fast. “It’s not that.”

He frowned gently. “Then what?”

You hesitated.

Then: “You… say things like that so easily. Like it’s nothing.”

He blinked. “It’s not nothin’. I mean it.”

“Yeah, but…” You sat up, pulling the blanket with you. “Most people don’t.”

Paul pushed himself up beside you, brows furrowed. “You talkin’ about them old blokes again?”

You bit your lip.

He tilted his head. “They didn’t say nice things to you, then?”

“They didn’t say anything. Not in public. Not around friends. They’d act like we weren’t even together.”

Paul’s eyes dimmed a little.

“Wouldn’t hold your hand?” he asked, incredulous.

You shook your head.

Paul scoffed. “No offence, love, but they sound like right pillocks.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “I just… I don’t know what to do with someone like you.”

He softened immediately, scooting closer, hands resting gently on your thighs. “Then don’t do anything. Just let me.”

You blinked.

Paul smiled, slow and certain. “Let me love you loud.”

You felt something warm unfurl in your chest. Something terrifying, but good.

“And if I can’t match that yet?”

He reached for your hand. “Then I’ll be the loud one till you can. I’ll wait. I’ve got nothin’ but time for you, love.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed.

He kissed your knuckles, featherlight. “Alright?”

You nodded, heart thundering.

He tugged you gently back toward the pillows, curling himself around you.

“Y’don’t have to do owt but stay, alright? That’s it. That’s the gig.”

You pressed your face to his chest. “Okay.”

He grinned against your hair.

“And I’m not just sayin’ that ‘cause you’re fit.”

“Paul.”

“Or ‘cause your legs look incredible in my shirt-”

“Paul.”

He laughed, full-bellied and happy. “What? Just bein’ honest!”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop smiling.

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @silly-lil-lee

[crossbackpoke-check]

Looks like that video is about a month & a half after The Trade and trevors broken ankle 😣

re: this video… anon 😭 i had suspicions but it is so much worse to have them confirmed that really was like. trevor’s first Public Appearance without jamie AND post-broken ankle which is traumatic in and of itself no wonder every beat reporter was like ‘oh yeah trevor’s just devastated’

wouldn’t you be miserable too if your best friend just got traded and your body betrayed you and what if it was maybe all your fault!!!

[jjscrybaby]

thinking about “who did this to you?” and frat!boy rafe 🤭 his girl is always at his frat house and one night at a party, he’s looking for her and can’t find her. He eventually finds her crying and maybe with light bruises on her wrists or something? protective frat!rafe 🥰

rafe cameron x fem!reader | hurt & comfort | (creepy guy, wrist grabbing, bruising, protective!rafe, mentions of anxiety, sort of shy!reader,)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

The lights were giving you a headache. Topper thought it was funny to repetitively switch the main light on and off, to try and give the room a rave vibe. Most people inside were too fucked up to be annoyed by it, but you weren’t. You’d only had two vodka cranberries, and honestly all you wanted to do was crawl into Rafe’s bed and go to sleep.

During the majority of these parties you’d be glued to your boyfriend’s side, hanging off his arm like a trophy, but tonight was different. You were trying to branch out more, stop being so anxious at these things. Rafe loves a party, and being his girlfriend you should as well. So, for the last hour you’ve been roaming around; making minimal contact with him.

You left the main room with a huff, rubbing your temple as you walked out into the hall. There was no-one in sight, and you let out a sigh of relief that you had a moment alone. You sat down on the floor, leaning your head back against the wall. The door to the bathroom opened and a boy, one you hadn’t seen before, walked out.

“You alright?” He asked, looking down at you in amusement.

“I’m fine, just takin’ a break,” you explained. You didn’t want to speak to him, but it would be rude to send him away; especially with the mission you were on tonight.

“Mind if I join you?” He questioned. You didn’t even get to respond, he was already sitting down next to you. “I’m Parker, by the way.” You introduced yourself, shaking his outstretched hand. “Ah, you’re Cameron’s girl?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, just the mention of him had your mood lifting. Maybe you should just give up with the outgoing thing, maybe you should just go and find—

“You don’t seem like his type.” The statement caught you off guard, all thoughts leaving your head as you looked at him with furrowed brows.

“What does that mean?” You wondered, trying to sound calm.

He let out a hum, as if deep in thought, before shrugging his shoulders and giving you a smirk. “Rafe’s, like, into all this shit, y’know? Parties, drinking, drugs. You’re sat in the hallway alone.”

“Opposites attract,” you shrugged back, picking at the pink nail polish on your nails.

“That is the saying,” he laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “I just think maybe, a pretty girl like you, deserves someone that’s more like her. Someone that would sit with her in the hallway, for example.”

You thought he was degrading you, like the rest of Rafe’s fanboys usually did. But, you realised now that wasn’t the case. He was your fanboy. You let out an awkward chuckle, looking to the door that hadn’t opened since you stepped out. You prayed for someone, anyone, to need the bathroom.

“I’m gonna head back in—” you decided to screw the anxiety, and just do what was necessary.

“Why?” He interrupted. He didn’t sound quite so friendly anymore. “We’re hangin’ out, don’t go in yet.”

“I need to find Rafe.” You tried to stand, but his fingers gripped onto your wrist to stop you. You winced in pain, his hold only tightened. “Get off.”

“No—” your prayers were answered as the door opened, a drunken couple came stumbling through. The sudden interruption had him letting go of you, and you swiftly rushed away.

You ran upstairs, through the corridor of boy’s bedrooms, until you reached Rafe’s. With tears in your eyes, you pushed open the door and laid down in his bed.

It only took ten minutes for the door to open again, you flinched; thinking that maybe Parker had followed you up here, but you let out a shaky sigh of relief at the sight of Rafe.

“Hey, baby. There you are, been lookin’ all over— are you crying?” He interrupted himself, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No,” you blatantly lied through your tears, voice coming out muffled.

He wrapped his arms around you, wiping your tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Hey, what happened? It get a bit overwhelmin’? You could have told me, you know I’d much rather sit up here with you.”

“Not exactly…” you reached up to move your hair from your eye-line, you realised your mistake the moment that gentle look in his eyes dropped.

“What is that?” He grabbed your arm, not harshly but forcefully. Your wrist had turned a bright red colour, bruises would be forming soon enough.

“Nothing!” You squeaked out, trying to pull your arm away from him.

“Don’t bullshit me. That wasn’t there earlier. What happened?” He demanded to know. You knew he was serious, the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice.

You gave in, tears rolling down your cheeks as you explained to him what happened with the boy. He stroked over your wrist, a moment of silent going over the two of you before he leant forward and kissed your temple.

“Get changed, put on a movie. I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” He murmured softly.

“Where’re you going?” You asked nervously, you were pretty sure you already knew the answer.

“To sort out that fuckin’ kid. No one puts their hands on you, get it?” He stated, pecking your lips before getting off the bed.

You didn’t argue, there was no point. Rafe was too in love with you, if someone hurt you he’d do just about anything to get payback.

[afterglowsainz]

warm | oscar piastri

part 2

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: when two members of the friend group get secretly together it all seems to be okay, but will they be able to keep their situation with no strings attached?

fc: different girls from pinterest

a/n: it’s still april 6 where i’m at so happy birthday oscar 🎉 enjoy my favorite trope in the world (star-crossed lovers) pt. 2 will be coming some time this week :)

—

liked by alex_albon, maxverstappen1 and others

yourusername party with the boysss 👯

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username hi icon

username i love her aesthetic

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francisca.cgomes 😽

username how can you look at the drivers when she’s right THERE

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liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and others

oscarpiastri home sweet home 🇦🇺

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username your honor he’s EVERYWHERE

username nonchalant king

yourusername i think i might’ve seen you on a billboard but i’m not sure

oscarpiastri i’m sure you did

username their friendship is what i aspire to have

username good luck this season oscar!!

landonorris too much of this

oscarpiastri cry

username can’t escape him

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yourusername obsessed with this place🥢

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username and i’m obsessed with you

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lilymhe mother

yourusername 你是 (you are)

username y/n 😍😍😍

username the girlies best friend 💗💗

carlossainz55 you should move here

yourusername i’m hiding your ipad

troyesivan ate

yourusername 😎

yourusername’s instagram stories

[caption 1: 😋] [caption 2: 📍suzuka international circuit]

oscarpiastri’s instagram stories

[caption 1: 🥳]

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f1gossip oscar piastri was seen yesterday after the japanese grand prix partying in company of an unknown girl

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username this is the first thing i saw when i woke up btw

username oh to be the unknown girl partying with oscar 😩

username the way he’s grabbing her you’d think they’ve been dating for a while

username why do these things don’t happen to ME

username these news had to be delivered to me more delicately 😔

username no babe i’m not okay oscar was kissing a random girl and it wasn’t me

username like jb would say, that should be me

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and others

yourusername 🌺

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username she won’t be at the triple header? 🥺

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alexandrasaintmleux miss you 🤍 (liked by yourusername)

username it’s actually strange cause isn’t she in pr? she should be there

username the complete change in aesthetics is confusing me

maxverstappen1 come back the kids miss you

yourusername i’m actually chilling with jimmy, sassy, donut and nino pretty hard

maxverstappen1 :0

charles_leclerc miss us

yourusername or what

charles_leclerc i’ll revoke your leo privileges

yourusername alexandrasaintmleux this is abuse 😔

carlossainz55 i think you took the wrong flight btw

yourusername i think i’m good actually

landonorris i don’t like this joke anymore

yourusername 🤪

[fireinmoonshot]

drawing the line | bucky barnes x fem!reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Summary: Bucky Barnes has messed up big time ... he just doesn't know it until he sees you and realises he really should've checked his texts. Warnings: There are very subtle mentions to reader having some issues mentally but nothing specific is mentioned other than her being very guarded and angry. This is inspired by and takes place during a scene from the Thunderbolts movie! It has direct spoilers for the film! If you haven't seen it and don't want to be spoiled, don't read this one yet. Word Count: 1.9k. A/N: It has been three whole years since I wrote for Bucky Barnes. Thanks to Thunderbolts, I am so back 🥰. I had this idea for the movie when I saw it again yesterday and I plotted most of it out at work today. I'm really happy with how it turned out so I hope that you will all enjoy it. More Bucky fics coming soon – as well as more Bob and Joaquín too! 💗 Requests are always open.

Bucky realises he’s made a mistake pretty quickly.

In his defence, he isn’t very good at checking his phone – especially now that he’s a congressman and he has even less time on his hands than usual. But he’d been worried about Mel, the assistant of Valentina, and had figured that by tracking her phone like she’d asked, he might have a better chance at finally taking Valentina down.

If he had read his texts, though, he would’ve seen one from you. Valentina says I have one last mission and my contract is up. I’m on my way. Have a bad feeling about this one though. Can you track me? 

Yeah, he’s messed up.

He’s even more certain of that when he’s pulling the unconscious bodies of Ava Starr, Yelena Belova, John Walker and Alexei Shostakov out of the limo he’d blown up and he finds you with them. Thankfully, you’re not injured. 

When you come to, the first thing you see is Bucky, sitting opposite you with his eyebrows knotted in worry. For a moment, everything is fuzzy and you’re not sure how you got here – and then everything comes back to you.

You’d been trying to outrun Valentina’s men who’d been coming after you after your escape when Bucky had shown up. Everyone in the car had been more than excited and you’d felt relieved – he’d seen your text and he’d come to save you – until he’d practically blown the limo up with you inside of it.

“What the hell, Bucky?” You blink, squeezing your eyes shut briefly as you adjust to the light in the room. You look around, seeing the others all sat nearby – tied up, some of them even restrained with pieces of metal that Bucky had wrapped around them. 

It’s when you see them tied up that you realise you’re not. 

“Doll,” Bucky starts, his voice soft. “Listen, I–”

“Do not ‘doll’ me,” you shake your head. “So, blowing up our car and almost killing me is okay, but you draw the line at tying me up?” You motion to the others and then to yourself.

Bucky sighs. He knew you’d be mad, but this is another level of mad. He understands – of course he does, you’d nearly died. But regardless, he’d hoped you’d be a little more lenient. “I didn’t even know you were in the car.”

You raise your eyebrows and scoff. “I text you and say hey, this mission feels wrong and you don’t think twice? Am I talking to Bucky Barnes right now? What happened to the guy that ran seven red lights two months ago when I got into a minor car accident just to make sure I was okay?” 

He stands up and runs a hand through his hair, walking a few steps away from you. Behind him, you stand up as well, crossing your arms over your chest and staring him down – like you do very well. Bucky knows that you can be stubborn when you want to, but this is the next level to that. He loves your stubborn side. He loves this side of you as well… but he hates that it’s him that the anger is directed at.

This is not the you that he’d been tangled in the sheets with only a few nights ago. This is not the you that had kissed him goodbye before he’d headed off to work last week. This is the you that he’d seen the first time he ever met you. Strong, guarded as hell and pissed off at the world.

“You texted me?” He mutters, and then regrets the words the second they’re out of his mouth. He resists the urge to pull his phone out of his pocket and check his unread messages. 

For a second, you just stare at him, and then you start laughing. “I texted you? Are you serious right now?” You exclaim, turning away from him and shaking your head. “No, why on earth would I text my boyfriend when I was going into a potentially life threatening situation set up by Valentina Allegra de Fontaine? I’ll remember that for next time and keep it to myself, since you’re apparently too busy to check.”

“Well, would you have even read my message if I had replied? Considering you were on a mission? Yeah, I don’t think so,” Bucky can’t help but bite back a little.

“No, probably not,” you admit. “Because I don’t have a phone anymore – it fell out of my pocket when I was running for my life back at the vault and then it got incinerated, like I would have if it had been even one second later!”

Your voice is raised even louder now, basically yelling at Bucky, though you hate to do it. You and Bucky never fight like this, not really. But this whole situation has gotten under your skin and you can’t help but be mad at yourself for thinking Bucky had come to save you, when in reality he was just there to kidnap the others for some unknown reason.

Unsurprisingly, there’s nothing that Bucky can say to that. He stares at you, eyes wide as the full gravity of the situation settles on his shoulders. You’d almost been incinerated. And then Bucky had almost killed you himself. Was there any coming back from this?

In the silence, you hear a cough and both of you turn to look over at the others, all of whom are now awake and sitting upright, watching the two of you. How much of your argument had they heard? You wince internally and start to walk towards them.

“You either untie them, or you tie me up with them,” you say, sitting down beside Walker.

Walker looks over at you, a confused look on his face. He obviously had no idea that you’re with Bucky, even though the two of them know each other. You try to ignore the feeling in your stomach, the one that says that maybe Bucky means more to you than you do to him, especially since Walker doesn’t even know about you two.

Bucky thinks it over for a moment before shaking his head and walking over to you again. He crouches down beside you and decides he’s going to try again – even though the eyes of every other person in the room are focused on him. He reaches up to try and tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear but you bat his hand away. 

“I’m not tied up so I can still tuck my own hair behind my ear, Barnes.” 

You turn away from him, looking over at Ava and Alexei. 

“This is your boyfriend?” Ava asks, looking between the two of you. “Girl.”

The one word says everything. You almost laugh at her.

It doesn’t take long for Bucky to make his decision. He stands up again and then beckons for you to stand up as well. “Stand up and let me tie you up, then,” he says, hoping that he sounds as nonchalant as he is intending to be. Even though not one part of him is actually intending on tying you up. It’s true – he draws the line at that.

You stand up and one second later, Bucky has picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder. You yelp, hitting his back as he walks out of the room, leaving the other four alone. “Bucky, what the hell are you doing!?” You exclaim.

He pushes the front door of the garage open with a foot and then kicks it closed behind him. Once he sets you down on the ground outside, you move to push him, but he’s quick to grab your wrists and place them gently on his chest instead. You’re mad, but he’s not going to let you hurt him, or accidentally hurt you more than he already has.

“I’m not continuing this argument inside in front of all of the others,” he says, nodding his head towards the garage and trying to focus on the feeling of your hands on his hands and the pressure of them on his chest. You’re here. You’re alive. He didn’t kill you. Nor did Valentina.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you shake your head and try to pull your hands away, but his grip is too strong. “I’ve said everything that I needed to say in there, Bucky. I asked for your help, you almost killed me yourself. It’s clear enough.”

“You said what you said, but you barely let me get a word in, doll.”

You shrug your shoulders and look away from him, focusing on the mountains in the distance and wonder how long it’ll take the others to get free so you can all get the hell out of here. Even though a small part of you, the part of you that isn’t clouded by your anger right now, wants nothing more than to wrap your arms around Bucky’s body, bury your head in his chest and feel his arms around you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see your message,” he begins, hoping you’ll let him talk. “I’ve been so bad with anything that’s not work these days and trying to bring down Valentina that I’ve put everything else to the side. I shouldn’t have put you there too.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, still unable to look at him.

“I didn’t know you were in that limo when I blew it up. I just knew that there were people in there that could help me bring down Valentina once and for all and I was going to stop that limo at all costs,” he explains. “You don’t know how terrified I was when I saw you were inside of it. I swear, I spent five minutes just checking to make sure you weren’t injured before I brought you all here. I couldn’t bring myself to tie you up after all that, doll.”

“Likely story,” you huff under your breath, as if the thought of him checking you over to make sure you were okay doesn’t make your heart beat faster and your fingers, still pressed to his chest, itch to pull him closer to you.

Bucky removes one of his hands from yours and carefully reaches down to cup your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. You try and restrain yourself for a few moments before eventually meeting his eyes. Just looking in them tells you that he’s speaking the truth. 

“I would never do anything knowingly to hurt you, doll,” he says. 

“I know,” you reply, voice soft as you try not to lean too much into his hand. 

“Then do you forgive me?”

“No,” you shake your head, but in the progress, you can’t help but relax into his grip a little. You let out a sigh, your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of his hand on your face. “I don’t forgive you yet, Bucky. I need time.”

Bucky nods and lets out a small breath of relief. “I’ll take it.”

You remove one of your hands from Bucky’s chest and place it over the hand that’s still on your jaw. “We need to talk,” you start. “Not you and me, all of us. There are things that happened down there in that vault that you need to know about before we go after Valentina, if we can even get the others to join us.”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees. “Just one more thing.” He leans down and presses his lips to your forehead before dropping his hand from your jaw and stepping back away from you, clearly wanting to give you space even though you hadn’t asked for it. The thoughtfulness makes your heart swell in your chest. “C’mon doll, let’s go.”

[tohruies]

a realisation that home was here. home was now. and it had been all along … 🥺💘

— ☆ 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒

alhaitham x ryu. this is obviously a selfship piece for ryuhaitham and it’s in first person. canon au. comfort. fluff. read here if you want more context on us. 0.7k wc

I sat curled on the couch with a blanket drawn tightly around me, staring at the modest decorations I’d strung up days ago when Alhaitham first left for Akademiya business. The lights, the strings of ribbon—they felt out of place here, like foreign embellishments in a world that had no meaning for them.

Christmas. Once upon a time, it had been everywhere—woven into every light, every note of music, every breath of winter air. It wasn’t as though I’d celebrated Christmas extravagantly but the absence of it here made the ache of displacement settle heavy in my chest. Even if I’d only half-participated in the holiday back then, its laughter and warmth had always been a comforting constant.

Teyvat moved without pause. The winds of Mondstadt whipped across snow-buried plains, Sumeru’s ever-shifting leaves played on the breeze and Liyue’s lanterns flickered against a fading sky. It was timeless and unchanging, as if the universe was indifferent to the celebration I longed for. But like the decorations I’d strung up, Christmas had no place here. And in that knowledge, my homesickness deepened, the distance between my old world and this one stretching farther.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and I startled, my gaze snapped to the figure entering. Alhaitham’s silhouette was outlined against the dim light of Teyvat’s evening and in his hand was a small neatly wrapped package, the paper a rich shade of crimson, tied with thin, silver silk that shimmered softly in the light.

“You’re back,” I mustered, rising slightly from my seat.

“I am,” His gaze swept over me, and a crease formed between his brows. “You look troubled.”

I offered a fragile smile, “Just thinking about… you know.” I trailed off, eyes drifting to the window where whimsy unbeknownst to me twinkled in the inky expanse above.

Without preamble, he extended the gift toward me. “Here.”

I blinked in surprise, looking from his hand to his face. “What’s this for?”

“Isn’t it customary to exchange gifts for… Christmas?”

The word fell from his lips tentatively, as though testing its weight. His eyes searched mine for any sign that he had mispronounced it. Then, a bittersweet ache unfurled in my chest.

“You… remembered?”

He remembered. Even in passing, even if I hadn’t explained it in detail, he had remembered. And more than that, he had acted on it.

“You mentioned it once,” he replied, the faintest hint of awkwardness colouring his tone. “I don’t fully understand the tradition, but it seemed important to you.” He paused, then added softly, “I thought it might remind you of home.”

My fingers brushed the wrapping paper, tracing its edges as a quiet laugh escaped me. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“It matters to you. If it makes this place feel less foreign, then it’s no trouble at all.” He spoke as though his sentiment was the simplest truth in the world.

I bit my lip, his words filling the emptiness in my heart like the flickering flame of a candle in the dark. Slowly, I unwrapped the gift, the paper falling away to reveal a delicate glass ornament, its shape a perfect, crystalline star. It caught the lamplight, scattering prisms across the room like a reflection of something celestial—like fragments of a distant sky.

“It’s not much,” he almost sounded apologetic, “but stars seem to hold significance in your world’s imagery for this holiday.”

I stared down at the gift, my vision blurring as the sting of tears welled unexpectedly. The ornament trembled in my grasp, held close to my chest as the first drops slipped free, unstoppable. “Thank you,” I whispered, so softly it felt like the words might dissolve and me with it.

Watching me closely, a shadow of concern crossed his face, as though uncertain whether he had made me uncomfortable. “You’re crying…” His voice wavered, caught somewhere between a statement and a question.

I wiped at my tears, smiling through them. “They’re happy tears,” I told him. “I really needed this.”

Alhaitham sat beside me with the same calmness that defined his every action. The silence now brimmed with a bubbling warmth, deeply felt like a steadfast anchor.

“If you’d like,” he started, “then we’ll celebrate it. Here, every year. However you wish.”

His offer settled gently. “I would like that,” I said, already untethered.

Alhaitham nodded, brushing his hands against mine, the touch so tender it seemed to carry a promise with a three word phrase hanging in the air. As the glass star shimmered between us, the ache of homesickness began to ebb. In its place bloomed a sense of belonging.

A realisation that home was here. Home was now. And it had been all along.

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

divider: @/adornedwithlight

[miaoua3]

Stay The Night?

Pairing: CEO! Choi Seungcheol x f!reader

Genre: shamless smut (MDNI), piv sex, oral (both receiving), mentions of the ex (ew), hickeys and scratches, no protection (don’t be silly wrap the willy guys, don’t make me smack you all),marking in general, possessive choi seungcheol, smallest amount of spanking, squirting

Description: after spending the night with the CEO and (unsuccessfully) trying to sneak away, Choi Seungcheol asks you to stay the whole day and later on, even the night. Will you say yes?

Or

Basically part 2 to “Stay The Morning?”

Note: late present from me to you for 1000 followers on tumblr and 10k on tiktok🥰🫶 and also because i had the chance of smelling creed aventus aka the perfume cheol uses more regularly than the one i smelled that inspired part one of this and i got the urge to suck this mans dick so….bon appetit🥰

Warnings: yet again barely proofread lol im sorry i just hate doing that

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“take that dress off and get back in here, i want cuddles…and maybe something more.”

and who were you to deny him anything?

well, you were you, and so naturally you cross your arms over your chest, tilting your head to the side as a playful smile spreads on your face, in a mockingly offended voice you said “i’m not taking anything off or letting you anywhere near me until you brush your teeth and feed me something. what, you thought the last night was completely free? you’re a businessman, you should know better honey.”

cheol chuckles deeply as he stretches, the blanket slowly sliding down his bare torso, giving you a delicious view of his chest, ribs becoming more prominent the further he reaches with his hands above his head.

groaning in satisfaction, he then throws the whole blanket off of him before sitting on the edge of the bed, softly messing with his bed hair. looking at you with the cutest smile, he then gets up.

in only his boxers. the muscles all over his body softly flexing. his thighs looking deliciously big as he takes the slow steps towards you.

sweet baby jesus.

the moment he’s standing right in front of you in his naked glory, you feel your throat go dry with need and desire.

well i’ll be damned, i already got my christmas present, and it’s not even december.

almost as if he can sense your thoughts, cheol chuckles deeply before quickly dipping his head lower so he can press a gentle kiss on your neck, his tongue lightly grazing your skin. goosebumps irrupt all over your skin at his action, a shaky breath leaving your mouth as he moves away a little, just enough for his face to end up right in front of your own.

staring at your eyes, his own a deep shade of brown, almost black with desire, cheol slowly exhales, almost like he’s trying to control himself.

stretching to his original height, he then takes ahold of your dress with his fingers, lightly tugging on it.

“you should go take a shower while i make breakfast, this dress must be uncomfortable to wear. i will have someone deliver you some clothes before you’re done in the bathroom.”

you raise an eyebrow, amusement playing in your eyebrows.

“or you could, y’know, give me one of your shirts. like all the normal guys do.”

something dark suddenly appears in his eyes, the little smile that has been tugging on the edges of his lips disappears at your words.

he takes another slow step towards you, so that there’s barely any space left between your warm bodies. looking down on you, he darkly says “i’m not like other men. you should know that until know, baby.”

you swallow hardly, but not out of fear or anything like that.

you swallow because that was so fucking sexy of him.

good lord, i need him again, as soon as possible.

he then slowly kisses your cheek, like a gentleman that he is, before he takes ahold of your hand and starts pulling you out of the bedroom.

“c’mon, i’ll show you where the bathroom is and how everything works. any special wishes for breakfast? anything you prefer or not? allergies? would you like coffee or tea maybe?”

you chuckle at his questions, quickly stopping him to gently kiss his cheek before looking at him with your doe eyes.

“coffee is fine, i’m not that big on breakfast but you have spent all of my energy last night, so maybe something light but filling would be good. and i’m not allergic to anything, not that i know at least. now, before you start to terrorise the kitchen, brush your teeth, romeo.”

you push him through the entrance of the bathroom door, his skin soft and gentle to the touch as you do so.

cheol just chuckles before he starts rummaging through his drawers, finally finding you a spare toothbrush so you both can get rid of the morning breath.

as you stand side by side, dutifully brushing your teeth, you both sneak glances of each other in the mirror.

you eyes focus on his bare chest and how they move with every little movement, how his soft stomach jiggles a bit too, as well as the dark happy trail on his lower stomach. the way his biceps pops put by him holding his arms so high is just as delicious as the rest of him.

his own eyes are trained on your face, how beautiful it looks with barely any makeup from last night left. but also because he’s only a man after all, he lets his eyes also travel down your body, lingering on how your boobs jiggle as you continue brushing your teeth.

what can he say, he’s a weak man.

after you’re done, you kick him out of the bathroom in order to take a quick shower, almost letting a “wanna join me?” slip out of your mouth, but he leaves before you can do as much.

the warm water feels amazing on your aching muscles, relaxing you so much so that you almost fall asleep while standing.

after a few minutes, you finish up in the shower, looking around for the clothes that he promised you, but to no avail.

just as you open the door to yell for help, you notice a bag waiting for you on the doorstep.

opening it, your jaw drops at what you find inside.

white lingerie. with a white slip on and a white silky robe, accompanied by white house slippers.

this sneaky little-

“so, is this what the big-shot and ceo of the prestigious company, choi seungcheol, dreams at night? what he lusts for and what he desires?”, you say as you walk in the kitchen, crossing your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him as you wait for an answer, signaling to your outfit with your head.

cheol just smiles innocently, his eyes just two lines from how wide he’s smiling.

“no, this is what a simple man who you have wrapped around your finger, cheol, dreams of.”

you roll your eyes with a smile at the smoothness of his answer, failing to add anything else to his answer.

he then pulls out a chair and points with his hand for you to sit on it. not used to this type of treatment from men, you almost giggle as you sit down.

he sits right beside you, taking your plate in his hand and slowly filling it with all the food that he made (which is way too much amount of food for two people, or so you think until you see him devour everything like he hasn’t eaten in months.)

you chat lightly as you eat, laughing at some of his very badly made jokes-is the laugh out of pity or because he’s just so cute? you will never tell know.

“so, any plans for today?”, he suddenly asks you.

you look up, pondering for a moment if you had anything planned, but nothings comes to mind.

“no, not really. maybe clean my apartment a bit? haven’t done that in a minute, understandably so.”, you chuckle emotionlessly, thinking about how your heartbreak prevented you from functioning normally.

cheol just gives you a weird look, not understanding why you would say that.

it is in that moment that you realise that he doesn’t know anything that has happened with your ex three weeks ago.

you reluctantly sigh, looking him directly in the eyes. “not to be party pooper, but i actually broke with my ex just a few weeks ago, because i found him cheating on me. with his coworker. in my bed. in my apartment. in my silk sheets. that i paid for. with my money.”

for a second there’s no sound coming from either of you, when you suddenly starts giggling a bit, wiping away a little imaginary tear, you continue “you could say that i’m a bit bitter-“, and then you take a look at him.

cheol just looks at you, or rather somewhere past you, his eyes murderous, hand gripping his fork so tightly it could snap in two any second.

your breath catches in your throat, an unfamiliar emotion overcoming you.

finally looking you directly in the eyes, still with the same look in them, he asks darkly “what’s his name?”

you gulp, looking away as you quietly say “it’s not important, I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

sensing that your mood has changed for the worse, cheol breathes in deeply and then out as a way to calm himself down before taking your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of it as he quietly says “for the record, he doesn’t realise just what hell of a woman he lost. and that his loss is somebody else’s gain, so. he’s stupid, who in their right mind would cheat on you?”.

your eyes move to look at him, his eyebrows scrunched a bit as if this is hurting himself.

you can’t remember the last time that a man went out of his way to make you feel so seen and appreciated. it makes your heart do this weird thing. like it stops beating for a moment but also like it sped up by a big notch.

you smile gently at him before you lean towards him and, for the first time since you two woke up, gently kiss his lips for a moment.

pulling away, you just respond “let’s finish eating before it cools off.”

seungcheol, as if in a daze from your kiss, just nods a bit, a dopey smile taking up half of his face.

you quickly finish up, helping him put the dishes into the washer before he leads you to the humongous leather couch that is right in front of even more humongous tv.

he sits down first, right in the middle of it before he pulls you down. seemingly he had a vision for everything that is happening right now, because before you can even get comfortable, he pulls your legs over his thighs, letting a hand rest on the bare thigh, massaging it lightly as he wraps his other arm around your shoulders, your head falling on his shoulder as he does.

well, okay then you think to yourself as you wrap your own arm around his bare stomach, rubbing his hip gently.

he turns on the tv, more so as a background noise, before he starts asking you all sorts of questions- what your hobbies are, who the two friends from last night were, where you are from as in like the city, you favourite colour and many other questions, the weirdest one being “have you ever thought how the dogs think? like are they barking in their mind, or is it maybe english or korean? or whatever the language of the country they’re in is? what about deaf dogs?”

you spend hours talking and laughing, for the most part you. he tells you the stories of his childhood, stories of his brother and how he accidentally smacked him with a baseball bat on the hand which inevitably ended up being broken, how he fell from the tree, stories about his friends who he met in college and still talks to on the daily, calling them “his kids”, all while he traces the hickeys and bite marks on your neck and shoulders.

you two talk until your mouth gets dry and he fetches you a glass of water for it.

deciding that he should take a shower, he says that you can put whatever you want on the tv and watch it while he does so, saying he won’t take long before he disappears behind the door.

you turn something random on, a documentary you think??? when you suddenly realise that you haven’t been on your phone the entire time, just like you haven’t heard from your friends since the last night.

looking around for it, you find it on the little table in front of the large window, the one you stood in front of as seungcheol kissed you for the first time.

you turn it on to see hundreds of messages and missed calls from jihyo and sana.

the last message from your group chat read “that’s it, if she doesn’t answer in the next 10 minutes, i’m calling the police.”

the message was sent 7 minutes ago.

lucky.

you sheepishly reply with an “heyyy guys haha what’s up”

you immediately get spammed with the messages, variating from “WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN” to “WAS THE DICK GOOD”.

i think it’s pretty clear which one of them sent which message.

you respond that you are still at cheol’s to jihyo’s message and that you probably will be home later tonight and that you can meet up then for the detailed story time of your escapades, and you respond with a photo of your collarbones and neck full of hickeys to sana’s message, sending a little wink emoji.

you can see that both of them are losing their minds, writing messages all in cap locks. just as you were about to read them all, you hear the door of the bathroom unlock.

you write a quick “gotta go, the man of the hour is back from his shower, gotta go and make him sweaty again ;)” before turning your phone off and focusing on him.

the sight makes you want get down on your knees and send a quick thank-you prayer to the god.

because there stood cheol, in all his naked and wet glory, black wet hair messily falling on his forehead.

and he only had a towel wrapped around his hips.

you unconsciously bite your lip as you watch him, sitting up straight as you see him walk towards you.

he finally stops right in front of you, his hips on the same level as your face. you go from looking at his happy trail to slowly raising your eyes to look him the eyes, his bulky form towering over you.

his dark eyes are trained on your face, his eyes as dark as midnight as he watches your teeth bite your lips in need.

his hand comes to your face, before his thumb slowly pulls on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.

you don’t put any effort in closing your lips, letting them stay agape.

the same thumb starts to rub your lip, lightly dipping inside your mouth, your tongue poking it unconsciously.

suddenly, in the deepest voice ever, he says two words that make you completely lose all your self control.

“pretty girl.”

you grab his arm and pull him down towards you. he gasps in shock as he starts falling down. luckily, he has fast reflexes, so he quickly grabs the backrest of the couch, so he’s bent over you.

you loop your arms around his neck and pull him closer so you can kiss him.

cheol groans the moment he feels your lips on his, tongue prodding, asking for entrance to his own mouth. he obviously grants it, making your tongues meet in a battle for dominance.

you try pulling him even closer, making him kneel with one knee between your own legs. it is a wonder that the towel still stayed on up until this point. adamant on changing that, you use one hand to harshly pull it away, making his half hard on spring free.

like a woman possessed, you quickly use your hold on his neck to pull him to the side, making him fall on the couch.

just as he adjusts so he’s sitting comfortably on it, you slowly stand up in front of him.

eyes trained on you, unblinking, cheol’s mouth fall open when he sees you taking off the white robe, proceeding to take the white slip off too.

cheol never believed in heaven, but as you stood in front of him, in white matching lacy lingerie, with all of his marks on your body from last night, looking like an angel, he truly started to believe that this is the closest to the heaven that he will get.

reaching with his hands towards you, so he can pull you on his lap, you lightly redirect them, holding them in your own.

you are apparently set on giving this man a heart attack at ripe age of 29, because you then proceed to drop to your knees.

right in front of him, between his legs.

with his hard dick right in front of your face.

his dark eyes, pupils blown with desire, trace every movement you make.

you first adjust your hair a bit, so it’s not getting in your way, looking at him with what he can only describe as hunger of a lioness.

keeping the eye contact, you slowly lick the whole palm of your hand, making sure that it’s extra wet with saliva.

cheol gulps.

the moment that that very same hand wraps around his dick, he’s throwing his head back, a loud gasp escaping him at how sensitive it feels. his back comes off the couch, hand looking for anything to grasp on, only finding his towel instead.

you pump him a few times, looking at him, focused solely on his face, to see how he’s reacting to your touch-to you.

his eyes flutter shut, a groan rumbling somewhere from the depths of his chest, his torso expanding with every deep breath he has to take in order to control himself and not cum on your face this very second.

god, that last thought didn’t help him, at all.

you pump his dick some more, your hand not even being able to wrap itself around his dick fully, making you shiver at the thought of having the very same dick inside of you later.

deciding that enough is enough, you slowly lower your face when he’s not paying attention, until your lips wrap themselves around the head of his cock.

cheol moans the second he feels your wet mouth on him.

his eyes barely open themselves, he basically forces himself to keep them open, watching as you slowly push your head down more and more, until half of his dick is inside your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, making you pull back up.

you repeat the motion a few times just as slowly as you did the first time, enjoying his moans and groans every time the head of his dick hits the back of your throat.

deciding that you want him to be a complete mess, you start bobbing your head faster, hand wrapping itself around the base that your mouth can reach.

god, do you love the fact that his dick is so big you can’t even suck it fully.

something you certainly couldn’t say about your ex.

your mouth engulfs him, the wetness of it making him see stars. and when your tongue does that little things where it first wraps around the head, before sliding along his slit, right where he’s the most sensitive?

cheol sends a prayer up in hopes that he won’t cum right this second.

a strand of hair falls into your face, making you scrunch your face in mild annoyance.

seungcheol jumping to opportunity, quickly gathers all of your hair in his hand, making a ponytail out of it.

and as you go on, bobbing your head up and down his dick, saliva sliding down til it reaches his balls. cheol uses his grip on your hair to control your movements, moving your head in fast pace. you choke repeatedly as his dick hits the back of your throat, and seungcheol seems to like that very much, letting out a groan every time he feels your throat close around the tip of his dick.

as tears stream down your face, you feel yourself being so wet, you fear you might start dripping all over his carpet.

god, you truly hope you aren’t, because that is one dry cleaners you cannot afford.

you watch his beautiful face, head thrown back, long and black eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, lips red from him biting on them to suppress his moans.

he’s so beautiful, if you could, you would stay right here, between his legs, just so you can watch his face in pleasure.

“fuck, baby, that mouth. you’re gonna make me cum, ah, shit. look so pretty on your knees for me, sucking on this cock.”, he raps out, every few words interrupted either by a moan or a groan.

you feel him move your head even faster, as well as his hips buckling upwards, a clear sign that he’s close.

“shit, gonna cum in that mouth of yours, ah fuck, baby- you gotta- gotta stop if you don’t want to swallow it- i- ah-.” he continues to blab, but you don’t pay him any mind, focusing on sucking the head every time he moves your head upwards, and tracing the little vein with your tongue every time he pushes it back downwards.

his moans get louder, his hold on your hair gets tighter, hips stuttering as he’s right there, on the brink of cumming.

you remove your mouth completely away from his dick, immediately replacing it with your hand. looking him directly in the eyes, you say the words that finally push him over the edge.

“cum for me baby, all over my face.”

and that does it for him, spurts of pearly white cum falling on your cheeks, nose and lips. the last few drops you catch with your mouth, wrapping your lips around his sensitive head again in favour of swallowing every last drop of his cum, making sure that nothing is wasted and that he’s as clean as possible.

he moans loudly at your action, pulling your head away because he can’t endure the delicious torture.

you both pant, his chest moving up and down fast, beads of sweat gathered around the crown of his head.

you take the opportunity to finally take a deep breath in, feeling a little bit lightheaded due to being deprived of real oxygen for this long.

cheol slowly opens his mouth, looking at the artwork that is your beautiful face decorated with his cum. with a thumb, he swipes a bit of it away, holding it in front of your mouth as an offer.

you don’t hesitate a second before you wrap your lips around his finger, sucking on it like it’s the most delicious thing you have ever tasted.

cheol groans at the sight, quickly using the same hand to wrap it around the back of your neck, pulling you upwards so that he can kiss you. his tongue invades your mouth, massaging your own in such an erotic way it makes you squeeze your thighs together.

with the other hand, he reaches for your thigh, wrapping around the back of it and pulling on it. you gasp at the sheer strength of this man, because he lifts you up from the floor solely by the hold he has on your leg. for a second, you fly through the air, until your knee finds the couch.

you quickly straddle him, careless sitting down on his lap, his dick rubbing against the lacy material of your panties. he gasps at the sensation, still sensitive from the best head he has ever gotten from a woman.

in order to save his dignity, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you against him so your hips lift a bit from his dick, his lips still eagerly kissing, biting and sucking on your lips as he does so.

your hands find their home on his cheeks, holding his handsome face as you kiss him back just as enthusiastically.

at some point, after a few minutes, your lips naturally separate, but they stay close. panting in each others mouth, you use your hold on his cheeks to lightly brush your thumbs against them in comfort.

he takes a deep breath before he says in a hoarse voice “fuck baby, even though you look like an angel, that mouth of yours is so devilish.”

a giggle escapes you, leaving a quick peck on the corner of his lips. “i’ll take that as a compliment.”

he takes the towel to wipe the remains of his cum off your face before he directs your head so it’s resting on his shoulder, leaving a fleeting kiss on your neck.

“gimme a few minutes baby, i will eat you out then so good, you’re gonna cry.”

and your only response is the shiver that runs down your spine.

for a few moments you just sit there on his lap, playing with his hair while his hands rub your back, lips leaving kisses every few seconds across your shoulders and neck.

you breathe in the smell of his shower gel and his natural smell, mixing in a way that it makes your eyes flutter shut on their own.

that’s another thing, you never found anyone to smell so good like you find cheol does. something about his natural smell is just so…him, and manly, and makes you feel safe and protected.

you wish you could stay here forever.

suddenly cheol’s kisses on your neck start to linger a bit longer, a bit wetter, and his hands start to stray a little bit more on your ass than usual.

you shift slightly just to get more comfortable as your legs started cramping, when you feel his half hard on. your mouth fall open upon realising that it’s showtime.

ever so slowly, you move your hips back, almost dragging your clothed pussy over his bare dick, making him inhale deeply at your action.

he lightly nibbles on the shell of your ear, before whispering directly against it “you little devil.”

you turn your head towards him, looking all innocent and coy as you say “but i thought i was an angel according to your previous statement?”

cheol narrows his eyes, before taking your thighs in his hand and picking you up slightly so he can basically slam you against the couch.

you gasp at the action, adrenaline filling your veins more so than the blood does.

he hovers over you, his hands caging you as he leans on them right beside your head.

you look at each other for a second, waiting to see who will play the first move, when suddenly, cheol rolls his hips right into your own, his dick catching on the lace of your panties.

you gasp at the action, nails immediately imbedding themselves into his back, eyes rolling so far back in your head you can see your thoughts.

“bad, bad girl. trying to play all innocent…”, he pauses before he leans even more in, so his lips are right against your ear again “…when just a few minutes ago you were choking on my dick, so prettily and desperately.”

unconsciously you inhale deeply, making him smirk a bit.

“what, don’t tell me you’re still thinking about it? still not satisfied? cumming down your throat wasn’t enough for you?”, and the condescending voice, the smirk, the satisfaction in his voice.

it pissed you off a bit.

harshly grabbing the back of his head, your nails digging into his scalp as you pull him in a harsh kiss, your other hand purposefully dragging your nails down his back, which makes him shiver.

you break the kiss off just as harshly before you answer to his question “no, i’m still not satisfied, so you better get to it, before i found somebody who is willing to do it.”

his eyes turn black with jealousy, fire lighting up in them. within milliseconds, he’s grabbing your neck and kissing you just as harshly as you kissed him, teeth biting harshly on your lips.

you moan as he continues to kiss you, almost like he wants to prove a point to you. teeth clashing, hands clawing at each other, his hand around your neck squeezing tighter and tighter, making you wrap your legs around his hips tighter and pull him into yourself as he does so.

he pulls away aggressively, and his next words sounding like a fact, like it’s written in the stars, linger in the air for a second.

“even if you wanted to, you could never find somebody who would fuck you as good as i do.”

eyes laser focused on each other, you just utter two words as a response.

“prove it.”

getting right to it, his mouth attaches itself on your neck, sucking even more hickeys to the pre-existing ones from last night. while his mouth is busy with marking your skin, his hand wiggles under your back, fishing for the bra clasp. once he finds it, he quickly undoes it, pulling it down your arms before throwing it somewhere over his shoulder with no care whatsoever, even when it sounds like it crashed into what suspiciously sounds like the vase he got from one of his business partners.

choosing not to care, he lets his lips travel from your neck, to your collarbones, over the navel of your breast, straying to one side so he can suck on one of your tits, softly biting your nipple that causes you to moan loudly and grasp his hair in your hands.

he does it for a few more seconds, letting his hand massage the tit that isn’t getting the same attention as the one in his mouth, before resumes kissing a trail down your body.

once he gets down to you hips, he looks up to you over his short bangs that are getting in his eyes. the said eyes look at you like a hawk, preying on you, excited to see your anticipation and shiny eyes looking back at him.

he just lets his lips and nose travel of the skin of your lower belly, making it flex from the tickling sensation. once they reach your left hip, he lets his lips envelope the skin there and suck on it, a hickey forming on its place.

letting his lips pop, he looks up at you as he lets his head move even lower, until his lips are hovering right over the lacy panties you are wearing.

you hold your breath as you wait to see what he next move will be.

god, you hope to god that he will just-

just as the thought crossed your mind, cheol puts his opened mouth over your clothed pussy, prodding at the covered slit with his tongue, paying the special attention to your clit. the fabric that is still on you makes his action all that more stimulating, making you throw your head back as you moan.

hands fly to his still wet hair, pulling on it harshly, maybe in hopes that you can pull him in deeper, make his tongue finally enter your hole.

almost as if he can read your mind, he pushes your underwear to the side with the two of his fingers. the moment he sees your pussy, glistening with wetness, his lips are on you, parting your lips with his tongue, entering your pussy. he swirls his tongue around the entrance, gathering all your precum before swallowing it all, moaning at the taste.

quickly he starts pulling on your underwear, mumbling something along the lines off “off, off, i need these off now.”, before he throws them over his shoulder too.

placing your legs so they are resting on his shoulders, he immediately prods with one of his fingers at your whole, letting your walls swallow it whole. his lips wrap themselves around your clit, sucking on it just the right way.

you close your eyes in pleasure, your desires finally being fulfilled just like you dreamed of them to be.

not only was choi seungcheol a walking dream, sex appeal on legs.

he was also between your legs.

he continues to fuck his finger in you, twisting his hand when he’s pushing it in and un-twisting it when pulling out.

after a minute or so, he pulls the finger completely out in favour of pushing two back in. you squeeze your thighs around his head as he does so, moaning his name.

“cheol…”

choosing to ignore you, he just speeds up his movements, tongue still playing with your clit.

you taste so good on his tongue, it makes cheol close his eyes and groan every time he swallows.

the longer he eats you out, the more careless and messy he gets. he lets saliva cover your whole pussy, almost dripping on his leather couch. he lets his fingers push in and out of you at merciless speed, the fingertips grazing your sweet spot every time he tries to reach deeper inside of your pussy.

it all makes you feel lightheaded, moaning mess, your back arch, so much so that your whole upper body almost lifts off the couch.

“ah! cheol, more, ple-please!”

cheol never one to deny his lady anything, just speeds up his motion, sucking on your clit while his tongue pries at your entrance along with his fingers.

just as you feel yourself on the brink of cumming, your moans getting so loud they ring inside of cheol’s ears, he pulls completely away, slowly getting on his knees to admire the mess that he made of you.

tears streaming down your cheeks, your hair making it look like you have a halo around your head.

your chest heave up and down as you try to regain some of the air, nipples rock hard under his gaze.

your skin so prettily lathered with the hickeys, marking what’s his.

cheol just then realises that he started calling you his inside his head, no other reason other than the fact that you earlier mentioned the possibility of going to other men to get what you want.

he will be damned before he lets that happen.

and then your pussy. god, it looks so pretty, glistening under the light, his spit mixed with your juices, smeared all around your lips and thighs.

cheol was never that interested in art that much, but he’s pretty sure that this-you, is what a masterpiece is supposed to look like.

he suddenly realises that you have been calling his name the entire time, whining and almost crying in frustration-in need.

“cheollie please just-just fuck me already.”, you say as you pull on him with the hold of your legs that have wrapped themselves around his hips.

he immediately leans down over you, caging you with his arms around your head, his lips immediately finding yours in a hungry kiss.

just as his hand reaches down to take his dick so he can finally push it inside your gaping pussy, he suddenly remembers.

fuck, he forgot the condom.

humming in your mouth, he mumbles against them “wait baby, I forgot the condom, let me just get it from the-“, but he feels your legs just tighten around his waist, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, preventing him from getting up.

you mumble through a kiss “if you get up now, i will cry and make myself cum, all without you.”

well, alright then.

cheol just groans at the thought of having his dick in your pussy, with no condom to get in the way of truly feeling the wetness of your pussy.

little to excitedly, he takes his dick in his hand, and for a second just teases your folds with his tip, sliding it up and down, catching on your clit as he pulls it down.

as you start whining softly in desperation, telling him “hurry up” in a soft voice, cheol decides that it’s time.

and then he’s pushing in.

you both gasp at the feeling- you at the mere girth of his cock, and he because of how wet it feels to have his dick in your pussy.

he pushes a bit more in, but once he feels resistance due to you clamping on him almost painfully, he just kisses your cheeks in comfort, mumbling against them “relax baby or i won’t be able to give you all of my cock.”

you breathe in and out in hopes that it will help you relax, and it does, with help of his kisses and his hand rubbing your waist in comfort.

after a minute or so, you nod as a way to tell him that it’s okay for him to move. he continues to pepper little kisses on your face as he pushes his dick more in, groaning every so often at the feeling of your walls squeezing around him.

when he finally bottoms out, cheol lets a big breath out, relieved that he didn’t cum, which he felt multiple times almost happen due to your tight little pussy milking him so much.

i can’t, not yet, she has to cum first before i do.

with that thought, he starts to slowly rock his hips, making a fluid motion out of it. he feels his tip grazing your sweet spot, which makes you gasp and moan lightly, as well as rocking your hips into his a little bit.

you turn your face towards him, your eyes telling him clearly what you want from him.

he immediately kisses you, tongues dancing a beautiful and harmonious dance for a second and then pulling away just to do the same not even a second later.

he continues with the slow pace, rolling hips so professionally it makes you second-guess his profession.

but once you breathlessly whisper “more” against his lips, he’s doubling his pace, his hips slapping against the back of your thighs.

you stop kissing him in favour of moaning directly in his face, which seungcheol seems to enjoy just as much as your kisses.

“feels good, baby? yeah? fuck, you moan so prettily, all for me, only for me, hm? nobody fucks you as good as i do right? the same way nobody begs for my dick as beautifully as you do.”

you try to focus on his words and to answer him, you truly do, but his cock filling your pussy, sliding in and out of you, and hitting your spot repeatedly makes you forget all and every thought, only being able to respond “yes yes yes” over and over.

he groans as your pussy pulses around him, making him quicken his pace even more, his hips and balls slapping almost violently against your skin.

the words keep leaving from his mouth, but you’re just too focused on enjoy him fucking you like nobody has ever before, that you don’t even answer a question he asked you.

seungcheol doesn’t like that.

he stops his hips from moving, and as you open your mouth to complain, he quickly leaves a strong spank on the side of your ass, a gasp leaving your mouth instead.

“i said- is this my pussy, pretty girl? nobody can fuck you the way i do, hm?”

his eyes as black as obsidian, looking for an answer in your tear filled ones.

you nod your head, moaning as you try to rock your hips into his.

cheol doesn’t like that either.

he spanks you one more time, just as hard, a little scream escapes you as he does. “use your words baby, or i won’t make you cum.”

you nod as you respond “yes, yes, only you can, nobody ever fucked me so good as you.”

he kisses you quickly, tongue teasing your lips for a second before pulling away to ask “who does this pussy belong to baby? remind me again.”, he finishes with another spank to your cheek.

you moan as you desperately respond “yours, belongs to you, only you, p-please stop teasing me-“.

before you can continue, he starts fucking you again, hips slamming into you that you feel yourself move upwards on the couch from the mere force.

you scream as he rocks his hips, tears freely falling from your eyes now. you don’t even realise just how tight your nails have imbedded themselves into his back, pretty sure that you are drawing blood from them.

not that cheol seems to mind, he just groans at every little thing you give him, groaning “yes baby, just like that” in your ear.

still, deciding to spare him an ER visit, you switch to pulling on his hair instead.

which seems to be an even better thing, because he in return moans so loudly, eyes scrunched up in pleasure as you do so.

“fuck baby, don’t do that or i’ll cum right now right inside you.”

the thought makes you bite your lips, as well as clam your walls even tighter around him.

he notices this, causing a little smirk to play on the edge of his lips. “oh? would my pretty girl like that? for me to cum inside you? to cream your walls? hm?”

he looks carefully for your reaction, hoping that he isn’t crossing any lines with what he’s saying. but as you nod your head quickly, desperately saying “please! please please please please cum, cum inside of me-“, he just groans, the thought of cumming inside you, painting your walls white while your pussy takes in every last drop makes him almost cum right there and there.

seeing that he can’t go on for much longer, he lets his fingers find your clit, rubbing it just as fast as he’s fucking you, putting on just the littlest of pressure on it, knowing that it’s enough to make you finish.

your scream echoes through the room, hands pulling on his soft but wet hair like a maniac, feeling your end nearing at rapid pace.

“i need you to cum for me princess, now, fuck, cream on it baby, lemme feel you-“

and it’s done, with a cry, you throw your head back, your thighs squeeze his hips and you cum. you cum so hard that you squirt a little all over his thighs, making a mess out of him.

he, seemingly also almost there, just needs a little bit of your help, mainly just you saying “cum, please, cum inside me, need it so bad cheollie-“, he thrusts once, twice before he’s cumming inside of you, moaning in your face as he does so.

rocking his hips for a bit, to make sure that every last drop of his cum is fucked deeply inside of your pussy, he then drops his whole dead body onto your own, his legs shaking from how hard his orgasm hit him.

although he is a bit heavy, you don’t complain at all, instead hugging him even closer, welcoming his bulky body to squish you. it’s almost like it makes you feel grounded, as well as helping you clear up your mind, haziness due to your own finish clearing up the longer he lays there on you.

you two just breathe heavily for a minute, trying to regain your breaths as you rub his back, while his lips softly kiss your neck and cheeks.

he turns your face to his own so that he can kiss you gently, rubbing his thumb on your cheek in comfort.

he breaks the kiss off, his boba eyes looking at you as he gently asks “are you okay baby?”

you just nod your head with a tired smile.

“i didn’t overdo it, right? everything was okay? wasn’t too much?”

your smile spreads a big wider as you whisper “it was perfect…you are perfect.”

he smiles a little before softly pecking your lips, stopping only at one kiss in favour of whispering back “you are the one that’s perfect…my baby.”

you just loop your hands around his neck to pull him towards you, kissing him deeply and slowly, letting all your feelings and words you don’t trust to say out loud speak for themselves through that kiss.

after a minute or so, you feel his dick slowly get hard again, making you realise that he hasn’t pulled out the entire time.

you softly say “sorry about the mess i made on your couch.”

cheol just chuckles as he responds “i could care less about the couch, especially not after i just had you squirt all over it.”

you shyly hide your face in his neck, groaning in embarrassment as he chuckles some more.

suddenly, he grabs your thighs before going to slowly stand up, all while still holding your body wrapped around his.

you gasp as you get picked up, clamping onto his dick as you feel the shift in the angle.

cheol just groans as he starts carrying you towards his room, spanking your ass one more time as he walks.

“i’m not done with you yet.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

after two more rounds of wild and fast sex, you two lay there on his bed, both on your sides as you face each other, a thin blanket covering your bodies as the sweat on your bodies starts to slowly cool off.

seungcheol just looks at your face, almost like he’s in awe that a woman like you is truly in his bed and that has given him a chance, running the back of his finger up and down your cheek as you two quietly talk in what now has turned a dark room. the night slowly crept on you two, which you didn’t even realise until you fell onto the bed after you had just finished riding him into oblivion.

night, which reminds you…

you should slowly go home now.

you push his silky black hair back, looking at his youthful face and small smile.

god he’s so beautiful, I want to see him again.

you smile small, a little bit of bittersweetness visible in it, as you say quietly“i should probably go home soon.”

his mood sours immediately, a pout replacing the smile on his cherry red lips.

the arm that has been wrapped around your waist under the blanket tightens, pulling you closer to his body, almost likes he’s trying to prevent you from getting up.

ever so quietly, he whispers in the mostly dark room “do you have to?”.

the lamp that is turned on and is your only source of light illuminates his handsome face, eyes sparkling from the said light, begging you not to go.

you smile sadly as you respond “i should.”

he stays quiet for a second, teeth gnawing on his lip as he thinks about your words.

you just lean in to leave one last kiss on his lips, letting your presence and smell linger for a bit before you pull away and start to get up.

as you are sitting on the edge of the bed, looking for your things, you hear him shuffle behind you, but don’t pay him any attention, thinking that he’s probably just going to walk you out.

which quickly changes once you feel his arms wrap around your hips from behind, face nuzzling in your neck.

you turn your head to look at him surprised, the top his head only greeting you in return.

he tightens his hug around your waist, his legs spread so that you’re basically sitting between them.

and then, in the quietest and most unsure voice he asks you.

“stay? please? tomorrow is sunday after all…and-and I don’t want you to leave… i don’t want this to be over yet…”

you unconsciously start pouting yourself at his voice, heart breaking at how sad he sounds that you have to go.

you fish with your point finger for his chin, saying a little “cheollie, look at me, please baby.”

after a second or two, he lifts his head from your shoulder, face red from the lack of oxygen.

you smile a little at him before you say “okay, i’ll stay, but tomorrow i really need to go, because i have work on monday and i can’t miss it.”

you pause for a second to gulp your nervousness down before continuing “and…”

he just looks at you with puppy eyes, seeing you get flustered in real time, but doesn’t say anything to interrupt you.

you just look at him a bit embarrassed as you finish “…who says that this has to end?”

cheol just blinks for a second before the implication of your words finally delivers in his head, making a big smile explode on his face.

quickly kissing you, he lets your bodies fall back on the bed, his arms still tightly wrapped around you, making it hard for you to turn around so you can kiss him properly.

god, choi seungcheol, what are you doing to me?

[rafecameronssl4t]

Happy house || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: just a cute fic of the Cameron family being one big happy family and infatuated with you and Rafe’s daughter 🥰

Warnings: breastfeeding (?) apart from that this is all fluff

Word count: 1388

A/n: this was so cute to write 🥹🥹 loved writing the fact that the Cameron family is tight-knit and love one another

MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)

divider be @yoonitos

“Got everything?” Rafe glanced back at you, his hands full with bags laden with mostly Mabel’s things. You hummed contentedly, one hand gently adjusting the bucket hat on Mabel’s head while her plushy little hands playfully reached for your face, her giggles filling the air.

“We’re not late are we?” You called out as the two of you boarded the Cameron’s luxurious yacht. “Hmm? Not really, they can wait,” Rafe grinned, glancing around as you shook your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “They’re here! They’re here!” Wheezie’s voice echoed excitedly from above deck, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps rushing towards you.

You shared an amused glance with Rafe as he shook his head affectionately. “Wheezie, slow down!” Sarah’s voice called out in a mixture of exasperation and amusement, just before Wheezie came bounding around the corner, closely followed by Sarah, Rose, and Ward.

“Hey!” You greeted them warmly, arms open for hugs all around. Wheezie and Ward gravitated towards you and Mabel, their faces lighting up at the sight of the youngest Cameron family member.

Wheezie squealed, bouncing up and down in excitement as she gently pinched Mabel’s cheek. “Hey, easy there,” Rafe interjected firmly, earning a glare from his younger sister, though you couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s okay, Rafe, she’s being gentle,” you reassured him with an affectionate smile, his protective nature endearing as always. “Wanna take her, dad?” you offered to Ward, who nodded eagerly. “May I?” he asked softly, reaching out to cradle Mabel in his arms.

“Of course you can, she’s your granddaughter,” you chuckled, leaning in closer as Mabel reached out to Ward, her little arms outstretched in anticipation. You moved closer to Rafe’s side, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist, pulling you in close. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his voice low with admiration as he whispered, “They all look so happy.”

Jesus, Sarah. Stop shoving your phone in her face,” Rafe groaned, his tone edged with mild annoyance as he watched Sarah snap yet another 0.5 photo of Mabel. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at the sight, knowing that it was always Sarah’s candid photos of Mabel that Rafe eventually looked back on with a chuckle.

“Send them to me,” you mouthed to Sarah, who winked in response, both of you giggling like schoolgirls. “What are you giggling about, hmm?” Rafe asked, looking down at you with a smile, his irritation quickly fading. “Nothing, nothing,” you said, your smile widening. “Just excited to get to the island and have lunch together as a family again.”

Rafe’s smile softened, appreciating how much you valued these family moments. Before he could say more, Rose chimed in, glancing at her watch. “Okay, I think we should move this upstairs, don’t you think?” she suggested. Everyone agreed, and the group began making their way up to the spacious upper deck. The Bahamas sun was bright overhead, casting a warm glow over the yacht.

“You know, if you ever need a babysitter, I’m right here,” Wheezie offered, linking her arm through yours as you ascended the stairs. She batted her eyelashes playfully, making you giggle at her antics. Rafe, close behind, scoffed. “Yeah, as if I’m letting you look after my kid by yourself.”

Wheezie rolled her eyes dramatically. “And why not?” Rafe gave her an incredulous look. “Remember the time you almost burnt down the house because you wanted to heat up chicken nuggets in the microwave?” Wheezie huffs, “That’s not fair!” She protests, her cheeks flushing. “I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to put metal in the microwave!”

Your jaw dropped in mock horror as you imagined the scene. “Exactly,” Rafe said, patting Wheezie’s head with a teasing smile. “You’re not looking after Mabel by yourself. End of story.” He walked away, leaving Wheezie pouting with her arms folded. You squeezed her arm reassuringly. “Maybe you can help out when I’m around,” you suggested, trying to lift her spirits. Wheezie perked up a bit, her eyes brightening at the idea. “Deal!” she said, grinning.

~

“Guys! You have to tan with me, the UV rays are insane right now!” Sarah called out from one of the outdoor loungers, her phone in hand as she checked the weather app. “I’ll be right there!” you shouted back, finishing up changing Mabel’s clothes. You handed her to Rose and Ward, who eagerly took over entertaining their granddaughter with coos and smiles.

Rafe trailed behind you, intrigued by the idea of getting some sun. He settled next to you on the lounger, stretching out and letting the warmth of the sun wash over him.“How are your boobs not saggy?” Sarah suddenly blurted out as she watches you tie up your hair, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Sarah!” Rafe hissed, shooting her a disapproving look.“Shit, sorry. Is that a bad thing to ask?” Sarah’s face flushed slightly, realizing the bluntness of her question. You couldn’t help but laugh, finding the situation amusing. Sarah joined in, her laughter a bit more nervous.

“I’m just asking. All my friends said that your boobs begin to sag because your baby is always sucking on them,” she explained, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. “Which one of your friends has a fucking baby at your age?” Rafe interjected, his expression one of pure disbelief.

“None of them. They were just saying that,” Sarah shrugged nonchalantly. You giggled, reaching over to rub sunscreen on Rafe’s face where he’d missed a spot. “I think it’s different for everyone. I mean, I hope mine don’t sag,” you said, glancing down at your chest and giving them a light, playful touch.

“You have such nice tits, it’s really unfair, ” Sarah sighed dramatically, leaning back and closing her eyes against the sun. Rafe raised an eyebrow, clearly done with the conversation. “I’m putting my AirPods in,” he announced, inserting them with a huff as you and Sarah chuckled.

~

“Mabel, come here,” Rafe clapped his hands with a gentle yet encouraging tone. Mabel babbled happily, steadying herself before taking a few small, determined steps towards you and Rafe; you were nestled against his chest as you cheered her on.

“Keep coming, sweetie,” you cooed softly, your hands ready to catch her. Eventually, Mabel reached you and crashed into your waiting arms with a squeal. You kissed her chubby cheek affectionately, “Good job, baby girl!” You lifted her up in the air, as she squealed with joy.

Rafe took the moment to take a photo, capturing the pure happiness on both your faces. As Rafe looked through the many photos already taken, you couldn’t help but notice how Mabel lingered close to your chest.

“Are you hungry, bels?” You asked gently, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. Glancing at your phone, you noticed it was about time for Mabel’s next feeding.

With Rafe still focused on his phone, a small smile gracing his lips as he looked through the photos of you and Mabel, you adjusted your bikini top and began to nurse Mabel.

Noticing the quietness, Rafe briefly looks down, his eyes widening slightly. “Jesus, kid,” he muttered under his breath, quickly reaching behind him to grab his shirt.

“What? Mabel was hungry,” you said innocently, as Mabel peers up to the both of you. Rafe didn’t mind you breastfeeding in public, if his baby girl was hungry, she was hungry. But he always made sure to help you cover up with a blanket when you puly down your top, his protective instincts kicking in.

Rafe’s gaze darted around, making sure no one was watching. “You should’ve let me know beforehand so I could’ve helped you cover up,” he murmured, adjusting the shirt and to peek at Mabel.

You chuckled softly, appreciating his concern and love. Mabel watched the two of you with wide, curious eyes as she nursed contentedly. "Next time I will," you assured him, reaching over to pat his thigh affectionately.

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Liked by itssarahcameron, christoper_thorton, rosejcameron and 85,208 others

@/rafemfcameron we’ve got the cutest baby 🥰

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rafemfcameron: damn right mamas

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↘️ yourusername: HAHAHAHAHA

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[diqldrunks]

snap out of it — max verstappen

requests are open! send me anything!! [nav | inbox]

a/n: i did not expect people to enjoy part one so much and i’m also in mourning that max didn’t do grid secret santa 😔 so here you go 🤭

content: rivals to lovers, reader is in a crappy relationship they haven’t broken up YET, red bull!reader, this is christmas-y 🎄

this is part two to a series!! find part one here!!

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yourusername ✓ who needs santa when you have a dutch redbull addict?

tagged: @/maxverstappen, @/hotwheels

17,517 comments…

user7 i am not well

user8 no bc i think this killed me

user9 i think the simulation glitched

hotwheels ��️💞

yourusername 🥰‼️

user10 THEY MADE DIFFERENT TYPES OF PINK CARS? I THOUGHT THIS WAS A LIMITED EDITION ‘ONE MODEL’ THING

hotwheels not only do we have different models, but the pink is here to stay! there will be at least one pink car in every collection released

user11 having her max do this for her after what nathan said is crazy

user12 it’s poetic

a/n 2: this was all from the fact that i could not find a pink hot wheels car in the shops. i know they exist but i actually control the universe 🤓☝️ and say that for this fic, they don’t.

max taglist; @see-me-wilding @forzacharlie16 @pastryfication @i-wanna-study @popsycles @cow-boy000 @iambored24601 @persephone-haven @eclipsedcherry @reidsworld @sepptember @formulaal @weekendlusting @elieanana @bby-aj @lottalove4evelyn @landossainz @rawr-123s-stuff @angstynasty @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @safeikik @sunny44 @theseerbetweenus @anilovessadbooks @raynetargaryan2 @stereading @kodeelynn @wierdflowerpower @lilypat

[majestyeverlasting]

Hello there! :) If I may, I’d like to request a Joel miller x reader ⇩

something where the reader is experiencing a migraine (headache + nausea and all that) and Joel tries calling her all day while he’s out and when he gets home he finds her asleep in pitch black room and realises what’s wrong, but knows exactly how to comfort his girl? 🥰

*im sorryyy if that’s long or weirdly specific it’s just something I’ve been struggling with lately and I need some comfort about it don’t mind me😻)*

𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader 

Summary Joel comes home to find that you’re suffering from a migraine in bed. Luckily, he’s helped you through this once or twice. [no outbreak, hurt/comfort, fluff, 1.8k]. 

A/N Thanks for this request! I promise it's not weird at all. In my head, this is Joel and reader from here with you. 

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Joel (8:57 AM) Sorry I missed you this morning, didn’t wanna wake you. Have a good day. -J

Joel (11:02 AM) Checking in. You up and at em yet? 

Joel (2:34 PM) Everything okay? Call you in a bit. -J

Still nothing from you. Joel locks his phone and rests his forearms on his legs. 

Today is the warmest day all week. Getting to ditch the extra layer is nice. Tommy shields his eyes from the sun as he exits a prim house with a spotless driveway and plush lawn. Beside it is another perfect lot, and another, and another, arranged around the whole cul-de-sac. He and Joel had been contracted to do a kitchen upgrade for the new homeowners and were in the process of working through the finishing touches.

From his seated position on the curb, Joel looks over his shoulder as footsteps approach. Tommy draws his leg back like he plans to kick him, and snickers when he leans out the way.

“Watch yourself,” Joel warns.

“Or what?” A smirk pulls at Tommy’s lips. “I’ll lay your old ass out on this asphalt.”

Joel shakes his head as Tommy sits down beside him with a grunt. A comfortable silence settles between them, and Joel fights the urge to check his phone even though it hasn’t buzzed. Tommy notices the slight tension in his shoulders but chalks it up to wanting to be done for the day. After the owners did their final walkthrough tomorrow, a three-day weekend awaited.

A cool breeze rolls through as Tommy stretches his legs out in front of himself, his jeans peppered with dust and dried specks of white paint. When he takes a swig from the bottle he walked outside with, Joel’s squints at the label, his interest piqued.

“Kombucha?” he says with furrowed brows.

Tommy nods as he swallows. “Sarah put me on,” he says after wiping his mouth. “Helps with your gut. Something like that.”

“A few crunches should do the trick,” Joel mutters.

Tommy snorts and elbows him. “Right back at you, smartass.” Joel huffs a breath at that. “Hey, what do you think about going fishing this weekend—Saturday maybe?”

When his brother doesn’t respond, he knocks his knee against his. “Anybody home?”

Joel straightens up in hopes of making his anxiety less evident. Except, he wears it like a second skin. To deny it would be to deny himself.

“What time you think we’ll be done today?” The break they carved out just started, but it’s his roundabout way of suggesting they get back to work. There wasn’t too much left to do if they locked in—some additional caulking, sealing, and polishing.

Tommy shakes his head as he calculates. “Three-thirty, four?” Then he narrows his eyes at Joel. “You’ve been sitting funny since I walked out here…”

Joel’s chest puffs with a sigh as he unlocks his phone. The text thread between the two of you is already pulled up, and all three of his messages to you are unanswered. Tommy leans closer to read them and bites his lower lip as the gears start turning in his head.

He decides to draw a little levity in, “You piss her off?” There’s a teasing undertone to his question.

“Don't think so,” Joel says as he shifts. “Gonna give her a call.”

Tommy nods and claps him on the back. “We can get back to work after.”

He heads back inside to give his brother some privacy.

When you don’t answer the phone, Joel leaves a message anyway.

“Hey, sweetheart. Haven’t been able to get through to you, but I’ll be home soon, okay? Four-thirty at the latest…” he pauses to bite his lower lip. “Call me if you get this before I’m there. Love you.”

•••

It’s quiet when he arrives home. Virtually undisturbed. The pillows on the couch are positioned in the exact way they’d been left after last night’s impromptu movie night. The TV remote is in the same place on the coffee table as well. There’s nothing that suggests you’ve been stirring around at all. He walks deeper into the house to find that the kitchen and sunroom are empty too. The late afternoon sun pools in through the window.

When he makes it back around to the staircase, he jogs to the top. The wood creaks beneath his steps.

“Sweetheart?” he calls out. “I’m home. You up here?”

His voice carries to where you’re tucked in bed, but you can’t bring yourself to answer back. Not loud enough for him to hear you, at least. The ache that once pulsed throughout your head has steadied to the point where you don’t want to risk overexerting yourself and tumbling back to square one. Joel would find you anyway. He always did. And he never viewed you or your pain as a burden. He knew how to cradle both, how to ease them without second thought.

Light pours into the bedroom as the door opens slowly. You can make out the outline of his tall, broad frame, and hear the soft sound of his socks against the hardwood as he pads to you in the dark. Thanks to the blackout curtains, there’s hardly any light entering in. Only the smallest slivers.

After his eyes adjust, he can begin to make out the shapes around the room. The red glow of the alarm clock allows him to see your face, your slow-blinking eyes.

Without uttering a word, he gently presses the back of his hand to your forehead, then moves it down to rest against your warm cheek. You press into his touch just slightly, and it tugs something awful at his chest. Makes him wish he could bear your pain.

“Migraine,” you murmur.

An apologetic hum vibrates through his chest. “You been like this all day?” he asks softly.

“Got bad at noon.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You weakly reach out for his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. It’s much larger than yours, rugged and calloused, but you’d hold on forever if you could. If he’d let you. With his free hand, he picks up the tumbler bottle on the nightstand to find that it’s light.

“I’m gonna go get you some more water. It’s probably time for some more Advil too.”

The weight of his attentiveness makes you nod like you’re surrendering. And maybe you are giving something up—the burden of the day. Of having to do everything on your own. His fingers tighten around yours in a final squeeze before he lets go.

You shouldn’t miss him in the short time that he’s gone, but you do. It’s the same tug that lingered in your chest all day, but is kinder now that he’s home. Not miles away out of reach. When he comes back, it’s with more than he initially set out for, all of it somehow balanced in his hold. He quietly sets it all on the nightstand.

“You can turn the little lamp on,” you murmur. There was a battery-powered ambient lamp alongside the larger one.

“I’m aces, honey,” he assures. “You wanna sit up for a second, I got your medicine right here.”

You prop yourself up on your forearm and gratefully take it from him. He holds your tumbler to your lips so you can reach the straw to wash it down.

“There ya go,” he praises as you settle back down. “Got a cold pack and some grapes too. Get a little something on your stomach before I get dinner worked out later…” He talks, almost absentmindedly, as he continues to get you situated. But he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s a routine he’s coaxed you through more times than he’d like.

A long hum rises in your throat as he positions the cold pack on the back of your neck. A stark but pleasant chill ripples through your overheated body like slow melting ice. All you can muster is another grateful hum as he sets the small bowl of grapes on the mattress beside you. There’s a crisp, sweet pop as you usher one into your mouth.

“Gonna go grab a quick shower.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” he adds lightly.

A small smile pulls at your lips.

•••

An hour. That’s how much later you wake up in his arms with his lips at your shoulder, his strong arm draped around your waist to keep you close. There’d hardly been any words exchanged between you in the moments before then, only confirmations of each other’s comfort and whispered I love you’s. You’d dozed off a couple of times since noon, but nothing comparable to the steady rest that came along with his proximity.

He doesn't realize you’re awake until you shift and reach toward the nightstand. The light of the ambient lamp soon illuminates the room, joined by the glow of your phone a moment later. Joel takes it as a sign you’re feeling better than he found you, and that’s more than enough. The gentle, repetitive tap of your thumb against the screen lets him know you’re going through old notifications.

His hand finds your hip beneath the sheets, where he draws slow, small circles with his thumb. It isn’t long before you lock the device and set it back down.

The sheets rustle as you turn around to face him. Sleep’s haze lingers between you as you trail your fingertips along his jaw in a featherlight brush. The scratch of his beard feels nice, and you continue the motion until you’re unable to stop the fond chuckle that shakes your chest. It’s no more than a quick breath, but Joel smiles shyly anyway.

“What?” he asks, voice a little gruff.

“J,” you murmur with a teasing lilt. “You don’t need to sign your texts. I know already it’s you.” You poke an affectionate finger into his stomach.

His smile grows as he offers a helpless shrug, warmth in his dark eyes. It’s impossible to fight the urge to scoot closer and press the briefest, softest kiss to his lips. He makes a small sound in the back of his throat.

“Tommy had me thinking I might’ve done something to upset you,” he says as he brushes a knuckle across your cheek.

“I’d never ignore you like that.”

Joel knows that, but says, “Except for that one time.”

You frown in confusion, but your mouth falls open in amusement when you realize what he means. “That was a million years ago, and it lasted five minutes—not even that.”

Joel chuckles, and when it triggers you to join him in laughing, you realize that’s all he sought to gain by bringing it up.

“Clearly it left a mark.” He brings your hand to his lips and kisses the heel of your palm. A smile lingers on his lips as you laugh again.

He then studies your eyes, your nose, your lips. He loves you so much he sometimes wonders how he’s been able to manage it without bursting at the seams.

“You feelin’ a bit better?” he asks after a few quiet beats.

“Much,” you promise.

He kisses your palm again. This time he lets his lips linger.

-

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all! 

more of this couple -> here with you

JOEL MASTERLIST 

GENERAL MASTERLIST   

[pizzapottah]

legitimacy

summary: “Vaemond Velaryon’s petition holds no sense,” it is said that the Wandering Princess reiterated once she heard of her uncle’s accusations. “My late father always recognised my brothers as his trueborn sons. Whether they look like him or the Baratheon and Arryn side of the family does not matter: they are legitimate.”

pairings: cregan stark x velaryon!reader (no use of y/n), platonic (familial) relationship between the targs/velaryon and reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: mentions of killing off someone🥰, reader is pro-blackwood, reader has some kind of anger issues, oscar is my babygirl and my babygirl only, language as always

author's note: an update of the heir and the wolf? in this economy? also pls don't comment about tagging, click here and join the taglist so that it's easier for me to tag everyone

previous | next | series masterlist

You’re sure you are going to kill every man and woman in the Riverlands till only their fantastic wine — without which you wouldn’t have made it this far — and vineyards remain, so that you can drink in peace without dealing with… the consequences. 

Lord Bracken has been sprouting nothing but insults and curses towards the Blackwood family for what feels like the last three hours. He surely hasn’t talked without being interjected, as Alysanne Blackwood has been responding to all his insults with doubled hate. 

You stare over at Oscar, sitting beside you, with an unamused expression. “Once we get out of here, I’ll make sure to break your legs in half as punishment for having me subjected to this torture,” you hiss, hand clenching around your goblet. He shrugs. “Didn’t you say to ask you if I ever needed anything? I needed help just this once, or else I would’ve cut my ears two hours ago.”

Of course Lord Tully had to fall ill when there were matters to resolve, leaving his eldest grandson in charge. You wish Kermit was born first, so that you wouldn't have to sit here and hear all of these people complain.

You huff. “Better your ears than my sanity.”

The thing that worries you the most is the fact that they seem to have no intention of stopping yet — and they’ve been going on for ages, accusing each other of heinous crimes committed by their ancestors or something. You’re not quite sure about that, as you’ve stopped listening to their rants about ten minutes in.

You glance at the servant standing by the door of the council chamber, who’s about to turn the hourglass for the fifth time now. When he does, it’ll officially be two hours and a half into them talking about their centuries-long feud. You have to do something, or else you’ll go mad. 

You cough loudly, and the two sides of the discussion shut up, looking at you. The table is rectangular and long, wide enough so that nobody can smack the person in front of them with ease. You sit at the end of it, a map of the Riverlands in front of you, Oscar sat to your right. “So,” you start, “have you all got it out of your systems? Can we start now?”

Both sides look at you puzzled, and for a moment you fear they might go back to screaming, but they don’t. “Lord Samwell, Lord Amos, could you both raise your hands for me? I forgot your faces when you started screaming because I thought I was back in Dragonstone with my younger brothers having a tantrum about a toy — they are six and three, by the way.”

Red-faced, both lords raise their hands; Lord Amos is a bit older than Lord Samwell, his face sickly and hair grey, a high contrast to the Blackwood's dark brown hair and plump face.  “Good. Now I would like you two to choose a spokesperson that will talk in your places.” 

Lord Samwell raises an eyebrow, “Pardon me?” he says, as Lord Amos raises from his seat. “This is an outrage! Why should we choose someone else to talk in our place? We can definitely settle this matter once for all alone!”

You raise an eyebrow at his antics, motioning over a guard to make him stand back down. “Well, if you could settle this matter alone I wouldn’t be there, would I?” you ask him with a short laugh. “Besides– don’t you still have the scar Lord Samwell kindly gifted you back in the days where my mother was looking for a husband? I don’t want the two of you to settle your matters alone if it means someone being stabbed again.”

“We would be perfectly capable of doing it now–”

“Choose a spokesperson or don’t speak, Lord Amos, as you have already talked enough for my likings. The choice is all yours.” 

The guard now stands behind him, hand on the pommel of his sword, and the lord begrudgingly sits back down. “I shall name my uncle, Ser Lothar,” Ser Lothar is an old man with white hair and no beard, who looks like he’s seen the rise and fall of all the Gods in the world and death herself. 

You don’t say anything, even if you’d like someone who doesn’t look like he’s a night away from dying. “Lord Samwell?” 

“My sister, Lady Alysanne,” is his resolute response. Ah, the lady who was screaming at Lord Amos earlier. She's young and thin — no doubt close to your age — with black hair to match a raven's feathers.

“Rubbish!” is Ser Lothar's not-so-smart response. You notice now that he’s missing three teeth and speaks horrendously — as if their accent already isn’t helping. “How old is she? Seven and ten? She should be in the birthing bed, not in this council chamber!”

Everyone stares at him, bewildered — even his own kind. Maybe if you weren’t there, the comment would’ve been overlooked, but seeing as the council was being literally held by a six and ten year old girl, it wasn’t the smartest comment he could’ve made. You can feel from your seat the murderous intent that comes from the Blackwoods — thankfully you made everyone leave their weaponry outside. You just hope nobody has a hidden knife somewhere in their breeches.

“For your information, Ser Lothar,” you speak up before things can escalate, “I am six and ten and perfectly able to run a council on my own. I’m sure Lady Alysanne will manage just fine.”

He squints his eyes at you, like he’s just noticed your presence. “I will be listening to no cunt!” 

You blink at Lord Amos, who’s red in the face, as calm as ever. “Would you like to change your mind, Lord Bracken? I’m afraid Ser Lothar will be too preoccupied with being my dragon’s breakfast to be here with us as we discuss this serious matter.” 

Lothar screams obscenities as the guards take him away to the courtyard, where Nādrēsy is staying for the time being, and Lord Samwell has a smug look on his face — no wonder happy that his sister has had justice. “Lyle!” Lord Amos roars, making a boy no older than twenty jump from his seat. “Y– yes, my lord!”

You intertwine your fingers in front of you. “Good. Now that the table has been cleaned we can actually start.” you ask them to take the seat of their lords, so that they’re near you and you three can talk more clearly. “I want to make sure that it is clear that I don’t expect your houses to be friends after this council. My only purpose is to end the brotherly blood shedding that in the last centuries has exasperated the Riverlands to the point that Ser Oscar Tully here had to ask for the Crown’s help to put an end to it. I just want your houses to stand each other.” 

You sigh, pointing to the map with their territories traced out in front of you; you push it towards them so that they have some reference. “This was the outline of the territories that King Jaheaerys’s ambassador drew the last time there was a council like this. Peace lasted only for about two years — my goal is to make it last at least twenty, so that when the Lords die their heirs are of age.” you darkly jest. Lord Samwell sends a glare to Lord Amos: he was six when his father was killed in a Bracken ambush. 

“Obviously, it is not. My goal is to make it last. So, I would like you two to outline the territories that are most important to your houses that as of now are owned by the other. Then we’ll see what we can do about it — see if we can make it a fair exchange to avoid spilling more blood.”

The two nod and immediately get to work. You are surprised to see that they do not speak to each other — not even a little nag or tease. They seem to be more mature than their elders, a thing that strangely you do not find weird at all. 

You didn’t expect for it to be an easy negotiation, but Seven Hells if you had underestimated it. They would be competing for the entire Riverlands if there weren’t any other houses, you’re sure about that. And before you know it, it’s been a sennight and you’re still staying in Riverrun, hoping that some god takes pity on you and strikes you down. Sure, you had them choose their spokesperson, but that doesn’t mean the others don’t protest when you say something they don’t like. 

“I’m thinking about arranging a marriage,” you say to Oscar one evening. 

You’re in the guest chambers, the ones you’re staying in. The chess match in front of you is basically forgotten, replaced by a discussion about peace treaties and ways to stop feuds. Your friend snorts, taking another sip of his wine. “My ancestors have tried before. It always ends up in a massacre before the bride can even receive the groom's cloak.” 

You shake your head. “I’m thinking about Olyver Bracken and Alysanne Blackwood.”

He raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “A drunkard and a hunter? Weird choice. Don’t know if I feel like ruining a lady’s promising future.” 

“Think about it.” you lean over, elbows on your knees. You take two pawns, placing them on the table. “He is Lord Amos’ heir, and he is useless. Meanwhile, she would be able to run Stone Hedge like it was the fucking Night Watch. We could make them marry, then maybe right after she already gave birth to a boy, an heir… a terrible accident could happen.” you knock down one of the pawns, “A tragic fall from the horse, a bad fever… you name it. And suddenly Lady Bracken is free from her preposterous husband and can raise his heir however she wants.”

You take two other pawns and place them near the others. “Then we marry small Benjicot Blackwood off to Cressida Bracken. They are still young, younger than Olyver and Alysanne; if Cressida is sent to live with the Blackwoods as soon as the engagement is announced, she may not feel the same hate towards him as any other Bracken would.”

You sigh, rubbing your hands together. “Give it twenty years, and the heirs to the Blackwood and the Bracken territories will all be cousins. What kind of cousins would ever start a war against each other?”

Oscar blinks at you. You blink back. “I mean what kind of cousins that aren’t in my family, Oscar.”

“Oooh. Oh, yes, that makes sense now.” he tilts his head to the side, looking at the pawns. “You plan on killing the Bracken guy?”

You shrug. “Only if Alysanne finds him annoying. I would never force the poor girl to stand him, knowing I wouldn’t even be able to wait to have an heir before I got tired of him, so if she manages to do it, I will gift her a new set of arrows and a bow. Closing an eye on his mysterious disappearance would be the least I could do, if the rumours about him are true.”

Hearsays say that he’s insufferable and that he spends more time in brothels than in his own bed, but ultimately he’s pretty defenseless and has gotten his ass beaten in pubs more times than his father is able to count. Oscar snorts, “Let’s see if there’s no carnage during the wedding, then we can actually talk about it.”

The next day comes, and you dread the moment you’ll be sat at that fucking council table again, and will have to announce not only one but two betrothals. It’s for the best, at least, or that’s what you tell yourself when Alysanne Blackwood looks at you like you just sentenced her to death. The whole table protests against your decision, but you’re unremovable, and you’re telling them beforehand just because you feel nice today. Your mother would’ve probably arranged the marriage without telling anyone anything until the day of the wedding. 

“You can’t just do that!” Samwell laments, red from anger. It seems he doesn’t like the thought of his sister being married off — quite thankfully, honestly. You’re happy that you’re not the only sister who has brothers who care about her. 

“The thing is, Lord Blackwood,” you reply, “that I can and I will. As ambassador to the King my word is his, and I’m sure he would agree with me in this decision. You lot have killed enough men, women and children in this feud of yours; the whole RIverlands are tired, as honestly am I, of hearing of your endless feud and your constant blood spilling. I say we put an end to it.” 

They don’t seem to care; they yell at you, then at each other, spitting venom and curses, talking over each other so loudly that you don’t understand anything. You clench your hands, rage rising inside you; you wish you could just make Nādrēsy burn their beloved castles down to the ground and call it a day, so that there aren’t any more territories to fight about, but unfortunately it isn't exactly diplomatic. Is this how your grandsire feels when he holds court? 

You stare at the map in front of you; the distribution of the lands has changed, even if the number of acres both families own has basically remained the same. You have either split the territories in question or gave one to the Brackens and another to the Blackwoods, trying to be as fair and equal as you could be — but of course none of them would be happy; they both wanted the other’s whole territory. 

You feel like you’re looking after all your little brothers who can’t agree for the life of them. Aegon will say that a toy is his and Viserys will reply that it’s actually his, even though they both have no idea where that toy came from in the first place nor that it was actually yours a decade ago. 

“Children!” you shout over the voices of the lords, shutting them up real quick. “You are behaving like children — except you are grown men! And I am disgusted by you all! Your families have been in these lands for centuries, and not only have you never managed to overthrow one another, but you also have to make it everyone’s problem! Aren’t you ashamed? Don’t you have just a bit of remorse for all the suffering your hatred is causing? How many men, women and children have to die before you–”

The door bursts open, a servant barging in, “Princess–!”

“What?” you yell, enraged, turning to look at him. He cowers, trying to make himself as small as he can, knees trembling under your furious gaze. “I… I–”

“Talk before I cut your tongue out and let her talk for you,” you spit. You would never do that, of course, it’s just that you have found in the last few years that a threat here and a threat there get the job done far more quicker and easier. 

The servant gulps. “A raven from King’s Landing,” he squeaks, “It’s from Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.” He hands you the letter and opts to run as fast as he can, away from you, shutting the doors of the chamber behind him. 

You look at the letter, confused, only to rip it open and read it. The men at the table watch you intently, hoping that it’s some kind of good news so that your mood lightens up — maybe the princess is pregnant again? Maybe Prince Joffrey has managed to mount his dragon for the first time? 

All their hopes are crushed when they see you get redder and redder in the face from anger as you read; if your dragon happened to be in the same room, they are sure that the paper would be burned down to ashes. Oscar leans to your side, peeking at the letter and reading what he can, frowning once he understands what your mother has written. “Wha–”

“A petition!” you roar, outraged. “And they didn’t cut his tongue when he started talking about it!” 

“Madness,” Oscar sighs, “pure madness.” 

You tear the paper into pieces, making the lords flinch. “The council is dismissed,” you declare. “The terms of the negotiations remain the same; Lord Tully will make sure that you all agree and the deal will be sealed tomorrow. Or else,” you lean down, placing your hands on the table, “I’ll come back once my matters are settled in King’s Landing and make sure that you all agree, in one way or another.” The threat is subtle, but they all understand that if they refuse to bend to the treaty, you’ll visit them in their beloved lands — with your very hungry dragon, surely. 

As the lords start to leave the room, you look over at Oscar, “You’re coming to King’s Landing with me.”

He blinks, “I am?” 

You snort, unamused. “You are. Vaemond Velaryon’s petition holds no sense, as my late father always recognised my brothers as his trueborn sons. Whether they look like him or the Baratheon and Arryn side of the family does not matter: they are legitimate. I’ll need you to keep me sane during the whole ordeal, Oscar. My ears did not bleed without a price during the last sennight.”

“But I’ve had no time to prepare– gods, let me fetch the servants, they need to start preparing my bags–”

“Tell them to bring your finest dresses and gowns,” you grunt, “wouldn’t want you to make a bad impression to the whole court, my dear Lady Oscar. Where else will you go to search for a husband otherwise?” 

You shake your head right after, not in the mood to jest, “Be fucking serious, Oscar; bring a change or two and let it be done. We’re not going to King’s Landing to have fun, it’s a trial.” your expression is dark, stare truce. “And a death sentence, if we’re lucky.” 

Your mother will never make it out of the trial unscathed is the green wench sits or her father sit on the throne; she needs you. She made that very clear in the letter, and you have no intention in turning your back on her.

Oscar departs immediately, calling for the servants and his brother Kermit, and you follow right after, not surprised to find Lady Alysanne Blackwood out of the room, waiting for you. Even if she was half as smart and hard headed as you thought her to be, she’d probably still be waiting out the council room to talk to you about the half-wit she would marry per your orders. Poor girl. 

“If you wish to talk, we can do so as we head to my rooms,” you say before she can open her mouth, “I have matters in the King's Landing to tend to, and I can’t afford to waste time.”

She grimaces, “Didn’t you come here to attend this council? Weren’t you here to help our families?”

“First of all, I was ambushed by Ser Oscar,” you clarify, “Second, yes, I was. And I did.”

She looks downright haunted. “You are a woman,” she murmurs. “You are a woman and you have sold me as no man had ever dared to do before.”

“You were bound to be sold off, Lady Alysanne,” you reply, tone calm. You can imagine her rage right now, but she must know that with her place in her family, she could have never possibly found the freedom she surely wants. You understand that by not living in the Crownlands, she had more hope for her future, with the freedom she was clearly given growing up; but you have grown in the Crownlands, and you have seen younger girls being married off to worser men without being able to escape. “I just did the honors.”

“I will slash my neck open before that brute can even think of touching me,” she boldly says.

It makes you stop to take a better look at her. She’s tall, taller than you, and a tad bit older. It’s kind of sad to see her with tears in her eyes. “I know what an unhappy marriage is,” you inform her. “In the Keep we’re full of them. My own mother was in one with my father.”

You lower your voice, leaning your head, “But you have me on your side. And I wouldn’t be against… a little violence.” at her confusion, you explain yourself. “I wouldn’t refuse to turn a blind eye to a hunting accident, let’s say.” At her joyous face, you relent, “Not on the night of the wedding, Alysanne! At least we need one heir, or the feud will never end. Lord Bracken is old and sick, and it’ll be a year or two before he dies, hopefully — I'll see if I can help the process go faster. Then his son might accidentally die, too, oh, he was so young, leaving his pain struck wife and son behind,” 

She snorts, “A tragedy, wouldn’t it be?” 

You laugh grimly. “Ohh, you get it.”

“What’s this smell?” Oscar yells over your shoulder, trying to make himself heard over the sound of the wind and the flapping wings of your dragon. 

“That’s the capital for you!” you reply, already missing the fresh air of the RIverlands. “The weather doesn’t help Flea Bottom’s odour. It’s been like this since forever.”

He gags, “Don’t understand how you manage. Smells like piss.” 

You shrug, “You get used to it. Trust me, there’s lords in court who smell far worse than Flea Bottom does,” 

Nādrēsy roars unhappily: a full day of travel and it’s only to get back into the dirty streets of King’s Landing. You lightly slap his side, yelling over his laments, “Ilagon, valītsos!” Down, boy! 

Oscar, behind you, shakes like a leaf as your dragon replies by roaring with vigor — no doubt, that equals to at least ten curses in dragon’s language. “How can you talk to him like that? He’s going to eat you alive one of these days and you won’t be able to do anything about it.”

You snort. “I’d like to see him try.”

The Dragon Pit is more animated than usual: some Keepers are holding back Vermax, who screeches and spits fire, while others bring Syrax back in her cave, her belly swollen, her step slow and cautious. Caraxes follows right behind, shaking his wings to throw the dirt off of them. 

The Keepers greet you and your dragon, sending a weird glance towards Oscar. One of them — Kilya is her name, you believe — comes near, shouting so that you can hear her. “Īlin umbagon syt ao, dārilaros.” she says, “Aōha muña gīmēdegon īlva hen aōha māzigon.” We were waiting for you, Princess. Your mother warned us of your arrival. 

You nod; you had no time to reply to her raven, but she must’ve guessed that there was no way you wouldn’t have come. “Se eman māstan.” And I have arrived, “Gūrogon Nādrēsy naejot zȳhon ripo, eman gaomon naejot imāzigon.” Bring Nādrēsy to his cave, I have matters to attend. 

You help Oscar get off; he yelps as the chains around his ankles are unfastened and yells as you help him down, where the Keepers promptly catch him before he falls on his backside. You jump off your dragon’s back, landing perfectly fine, and opt to pat roughly Nādrēsy’s back, just as he likes it. “Sȳz sōvegon, valītsos.” Good fly, boy. He roars back happily.

“I’ll never understand that language,” Oscar mutters, standing back up straight, a frown upon his face. “It’s like you don’t want your secrets to be known. Why won’t you teach me High Valyrian?”

“Iksis ziry doru-borto?” the Keeper asks. Is he stupid? You shake your head, then think about it and snort, relenting. “Mērī mirrī.” Only a little. 

Your friend pouts, sticking out his tongue at you. “Is that what I get for being your bestest companion?”

You laugh, walking off the Pit and to the entrance, where a carriage is promptly and not surprisingly waiting for you. “My bestest companion? Didn’t know you had wings and were named Nādrēsy.”

He gasps, dramatically grasping his chest, “You wound me!” 

You both get in the carriage, and you look at him seriously. “Before we enter the Red Keep, there are some rules you must abide by.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Rules? I was raised well, you know, I shouldn’t need those. I hope the King knows that.”

You shake your head, “No, those are my rules for you. Let’s say that it’s what you’ll need if you want to go back home unscathed from the Keep’s snakes.”

Oscar gulps, “Go on.”

“First, don’t talk to the Queen. Then don’t talk to her sons unless I’m in the room. Avoid Larys Strong — he’s the guy with the crippled leg and the corpse face, you’ll know it’s him instantly — and avoid the councilmen.”

“What, you want to keep me a secret?” he asks, bewildered. “Is there someone I’ll be able to talk to? Is there a reason why I have to avoid all these people?” he gasps, “Am I your whore? Is that why you want to keep my mouth shut?”

“If you were my whore, I’m pretty sure I would want your mouth wide open and working,” you mutter, “but no, that is not why. Truth is I would rather make sure that you stay out of their claws; it’s better to keep away from their schemes.”

The actual truth is that you don’t want them to speculate something about history repeating — your mother was already rumored to have a lover from the Riverlands; the last thing this family needs is another princess said to have an affair with yet another lover from the Riverlands. They would wonder if it actually was some kind of preference that was passed down from mother to daughter, and even if the only thought of being attracted to Oscar makes you laugh, you’re sure the councilmen definitely wouldn’t be amused by it. 

“Besides, you can talk to Mushroom,” you add. 

“Who’s Mushroom?”

“The court’s jester. He’s insufferable, small and will try to steal your gold, but you can talk to him.”

Your friend grimaces, “Why do you keep him in the castle if he steals the lords’ gold?”

You shrug, “He makes me laugh.”

Slowly, the carriage rattles to a halt, a page opening the door for you. “Ready to see the Red Keep for the first time?” 

He nods, “Ready to face your evil step-grandmother?”

[lotus-acid-trip]

hi! I hope you don’t mind me asking but may I request a Telemachus x fem reader where when ody returns and is being made fun of by the suitors while still in this begger disguise yn starts fighting off the suitors and yelling at them for being rude and maybe later joins ody while he is hunting them down and Telemachus has a love sick look while watching yn just like ody did for Penelope back when they were younger before he married her and after seeing how cool and awesome of a warrior yn is later ody turns to his son and says “I aprove of this one 😏” and poor Telemachus is just like 😳 all flustered and adorable what can I say Telemachus is a sweetie 🥰

feel free to ignore if you want to hope you have a good rest of your day thank you ☺️

“I approve of this one.”

Telemachus x Reader

[Epic The Musical]

oneshot

fluff

This is my first proper romantic reader insert fic, so I hope you enjoy!

Odysseus sat at the entrance of the courtyard under the shade of a large olive tree as he silently observed the numerous suitors scattered across the courtyard in idle chatter. Is this really what had become of his home while he was gone? It was baffling just how ungrateful and disrespectful all these guests were. He worried for the state of his palace after being infested with all these unwelcome guests for so many years. It must have been so difficult on Penelope and Telemachus to deal with all of them, having to feed and house them along with dealing with their pitiful attempts at courting his wife. It was a wonder why the suitors still haven’t been driven out by Telemachus yet.

His hand fiddled with the small wooden bowl in his hands. Odysseus was disguised as an old beggar, but as much as he wanted to reveal himself right then and there he needed to be patient and play it smart. He didn’t have anything other than an old knife hidden in his clothes to defend himself with and he was probably lacking a lot of proper nutrients and sustenance after being out at sea for so long with food of limited quality and quantity. If he were to fight all these suitors right now, he was sure to fail. Not only do they have an advantage in numbers, it was obvious they were well fed, and all the used training equipment seen around the palace was all he needed to know the suitors could fight. If Odysseus wanted to win, he needed to stick to the plan, which meant playing his part as an old beggar.

A suitor passed by him devouring a chicken leg and he held out his bowl to him. It would be a good opportunity to not only learn more about the state of his palace and family, but to also know just what his family has been up to in the past years. “Would you care to spare a bit of food for this old man?” The suitor tilted his head to look down at Odysseus for a moment before raising a brow. “And what exactly is this homeless old man doing in a palace like this? Surely your life hasn’t fallen so far into poverty that you’d go scrounging for scraps in the homes of royalty.” He leaned back against the tree, hands crossing over his legs. “Well, that wasn’t exactly my plan. I was just walking by but with the heat of the sun and with a body as frail and weak as mine, I just had to take a break under the shade of this mighty tree. I was always curious of what happened in the lives of royalty anyway.” He said as he looked up at the leaves and branches. He remembers planting it so many years ago to see how to take care of an olive tree as preparation for making his and Penelope’s marital bed. It's grown so much since then, and he wonders just how much Telemachus has as well. “Well, since you have so much spare time to just wander around doing nothing, why don’t you bring us all a meal or two, all the way from inside the palace’s pantry. You want some food? Work for it, old man.”

Odysseus raised a hand waving off the offer. “Ah, but there might be one small problem. I am just an old beggar, remember? I don’t know anything of the layout of the palace. I’m sorry, but I must decline. Can’t you just ask a servant to help you instead?” The suitor seemed to get irritated at his reply. “Ha! Yeah right, those servants can barely do anything right. They never bring the food on time and always seem to be short on stock. Not even their pathetic prince seems to know what he’s doing.” He stared at the suitor judgmentally. “ ‘Pathetic prince’ you say? Bold words for someone who’s staying in his palace.” The suitor looked at him as if he had just said something audacious instead of common sense. “Listen old man, we’re the guests here, not them. Do you not understand basic hospitality?” Odysseus narrowed his eyes at the suitor. He knew his palace, his servants and the workforce in it. They aren’t lazy or incompetent, if they were they wouldn’t be serving his family. Not to mention, if there wasn’t enough livestock there were plenty of skilled hunters and hunting dogs to accompany them. His memories of old hunts with Argos and others were more than enough proof of that.

“Of course I do. Perhaps instead of trying to defend your impudence against the prince, you could put away your prideful hurbis for a moment and just lend me even an inch of the food you already have on you. For someone relying on the shared hospitality of someone else for their own comfort, you sure don’t seem to be able to do the same.” The suitor’s bored annoyance quickly morphed into thinly veiled anger. “Listen you old derelict, need I remind you that this is not your courtyard you are resting in? This is not your abode and I do not tolerate your insults. For someone who seems to preach so strongly for returning hospitality, you don’t seem too keen on basic respect.” Odysseus hid his amusement at the irony with indifference. “Although that may be true, last I checked this isn’t your home either.” That statement alone seemed to be enough to push him over the edge into full blown rage. Odysseus jumped away from the suitor’s flying fist as it hit the trunk of the tree where his head used to be. “You know, for someone so insistent on how they have difficulty doing physical activities you’re awfully quick to move.” The suitor began to walk towards him, his larger form towering over him and casting a shadow that engulfed Odysseus’s entire form. “Listen here old man. If you think you can just run off after that impudence, your mind must be as deteriorated as your age.” Odysseus continued to back up, hand immediately searching for the knife he hid. A chill crept up his spine when his back hit something. Turning around, it was another suitor, the others beginning to close in on him. Fuck, he messed up. The suitor he first talked to grabbed the front of his shirt and lifted him up to his face so Odysseus could face him. “Now, I think it's time that you finally learned a long needed lesson on hospitality and what happens when you don’t respect your host-“

“Hey! What the hell is all this racket?” Odysseus never turned his head away from the suitor, but averted his gaze towards the newcomer. A woman emerged from inside the palace and stared at the scene before her in a moment of silence before her once confused gaze immediately morphed into an infuriated wrath that could rival the suitor’s own rage. “Antinous, what do you think you’re doing! Gods above and below, has no one ever taught you to respect your elders?” She marched on towards the both of them, unshaken by any visible fear at the obvious violent intent of the suitors. She gripped the suitor’s, now known as Antinous, wrist and forcefully yanked it away from him, letting Odysseus fall to the ground. Antinous opened his mouth, ready to yell at her but the woman cut him off as she glared coldly at him. “The queen is watching us.” She said as she stared into the suitors eyes as if daring him to try anything. The mention of Penelope is all he needed to whip his head towards the balcony he knows she always loved to use to watch the courtyard. And there she was, elegant and poised, watching with a composed face as she always does. He could see how she’s changed from when he last saw her, the small streaks of white in her hair that weren’t there before, the wrinkles and tired eyes. But he didn’t care, for it was his Penelope, and Odysseus felt like he was falling in love all over again.

Penelope observed them silently, looking at each person one by one before her eyes eventually met his. For a moment, it felt like time froze and they did nothing but stare at each other. It was like the world itself was holding its breath. It was the smallest difference in her eyes that made his chest swell with warmth. Those indifferent calculated eyes that always seemed to be studying every little detail softened for a moment, her composed face faltering for a split millisecond to look at him with the same eyes that looked at him with so much affection and appreciation when he told her how he’d tackle the challenge she gave him. The tension in the air was so thick, yet only he could feel it… and maybe she did as well. Logically, Odysseus knew that they had only been looking at each other for a mere few seconds, but it felt like he was staring for an eternity at something so close yet so far. And Penelope did nothing else but silently stare back. She shifted her position, pulling away from the scene and returning back inside. Odysseus let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. It felt like time suddenly began moving once more when it had always been flowing, falling through his fingers like flowing water with no hope of holding on to it.

“Antinous, if you do not explain to me what exactly you were doing I can and will tell Penelope.” The woman said as she walked in front Odysseus, who’s gaze still lingered on the balcony for another moment before returning to look at the suitors and the new woman. Antinous sneered. “And why should I? Your family may be up there in terms of status, but you’re nowhere near close to me.” He sneered. “And? Do you think I care? You already showed just how petty you get because someone bruised your fragile ego. I still haven’t forgiven you for the fight with Telemachus.” The woman took a step forward towards the suitor, but he didn’t move. “And? The boy started it.” Another step forward and another rise in tension. “Who exactly called his mother a tramp? That’s right, you.” Another step forward until she was right in front of him. At this point even more suitors began to crowd around them to see what was happening, and Odysseus dreaded a physical fight would break out.

“Well then, since you seem so keen on berating me for teaching the little wolf a lesson, why don’t I give you an opportunity to even out the scales?” Antinous’s fist met the woman’s face, sending her stumbling back. She regained her balance before gently touching her face, a bruise forming on her right cheek. Whispers and murmurs emanated from the crows as it grew larger, more suitors joining the audience and a few servants discreetly watching from the sidelines. She looked at her own blood smeared against her fingers before turning her attention towards Antinous. “I gladly accept.” She ran forward, fist aimed at Antinous’s face. The suitor held his forearm up to block it, only for her to twist her foot, turning around to kick him from behind without her fist ever making contact with him. Antinous was pushed forward a step from the force of the kick, but quickly recovered, turning around to grab her by the leg she used to kick him. The crowd around them began cheering as he pulled her forward into another punch, which was blocked by her own forearms, now also bruised. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into a headbutt, unable to dodge or move away because of their position.

The sound of a wooden bowl hitting Antinous’s head caused all sound to cease, the silence deafening as everyone’s heads turned to look at the source of the bowl. Antinous glared at Odysseus, who was hiding his grip on his knife in his oversized clothes. Antinous let go of the woman who fell on the floor, wincing at her bruises. Odysseus’s grip on his knife tightened as he took a step forward towards him. He opened his mouth to say something before he was cut off by a young voice. “Stop! What’s going on he- [NAME]!” A young boy shoved his way through the crowd and into the clearing that formed around the olive tree, rushing towards the side of the young woman. He kneeled beside her as he assessed her wounds. Antinous crossed his arms in annoyance as the young boy began to ceaselessly fuss over her. Odysseus stared at the boy, he could recognize those eyes from anywhere. “[name], are you okay? What happened?”

“Tele, I’m fine. It's just a few bruises, I’m not an old frail man.” She said as she sharply turned to look at Antinous. “Unlike the person a certain someone was harassing.” Odysseus stared at the young man- no, his son. No wonder he looked so familiar. He had his mother’s eyes and the same fair skin as her, but the face and hair of his own. His head was reeling, it had been so long since he’d seen his young boy. He was all grown up now, grown through all those special moments in his life Odysseus would never be able to experience. Gods, he missed his first hunt, his first training session, he missed being able to teach his son all the things he promised he’d pass on from his mentorship under Athena. But now Telemachus was right there, but he still couldn’t teach him all the things he wasn’t able to.

Antinous looked at all three of them one by one, from Odysseus to Telemachus in increasing disgust. “I’ve had enough of this, the way both of you act around each other is nauseating.” He said as he left the courtyard and into the building. Telemachus helped [name] up and she turned to look at Odysseus. “I am so sorry for all this. My intent was only to help you get that pig off your back,” She said as she looked at the direction Antinous left in with so much disgust it almost gave Odysseus whiplash from her original apologetic tone. “but it seems my impulsiveness got the better of me. Usually I try not to cause fights but I’m not exactly the best at not doing that.” She said shamefully. “Oh please, it's quite alright. I understand what it’s like. Sometimes, when you’re in the heat of the moment, your emotions cloud your judgement and you’re so focused on doing what you think’s right that… you don’t realize the consequences that might follow.” He said with a wistful smile. “I really have no idea what happened, but I apologize either way. Please, have this for your troubles.” Telemachus said as he handed him money, before cutting through the crowd to probably lead [name] to get healed. Odysseus stared at the coins placed in his hand, it was enough to buy him a whole house.

……………………………………………………

……………………………………………………

The metallic stench of blood filled your nose as you walked across the wet floor, the red liquid staining your sandals. The faint light of the torches could barely illuminate the dark room, the moon’s light nowhere to be seen through the windows. What little the light did show was nothing but puddles of blood and the faint outline of bodies. Right there, at the end of the room were twelve axes that were originally supposed to be used for the challenge queen Penelope made for her suitors. It didn’t take long for you to hear about what went wrong, and it took even shorter for you to make your way here. You grabbed one of the axes, testing its weight as you gave it a few experimental swings. The silence of the challenge room was so quiet you could hear your own wet footsteps echo as you tested the axe. You internally facepalmed as you looked down at your weapon, realizing just how little you thought this through. You had no plan in mind, you just heard that Telemachus was also fighting and just had to join. The idea of fighting alongside him was exhilarating, and meeting his father, king Odysseus and master tactician that won the war? You didn’t really think too hard on your decision to join. As much as you hated to admit it, Telemachus and your father were right. You really needed to think things through more. 

Your body tensed when you heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the room, your grip on your axe tightening. Well, if you were good at one thing, it was brazenly charging into battle. You readied your stance, prepared for a fight. Since you weren’t able to kill Antinous, you’ll have to settle for killing the suitor first. The moment the bright light of a torch rounded the corner of the entryway, you charged forward, swinging your axe towards their head. Being on the other side of the room, they had plenty of time to jump out of your way. Now, you were at the entrance and they were trapped inside the room. Their torch illuminated their face and you took a moment to look at them. Eurymachus, the cowardly one. “Hey, [name], let us talk about this! I never once went out of my way to hurt you nor Telemachus, I always payed my due respects to her majesty. It was Antinous that-“

“Lead you and your fellow scum in the plan to execute my betrothed in secret.” You said with a sneer, throwing the axe at his head. It flew past the torch, the push of wind blowing it out as the man in front of you fell to the floor. He met the floor with a loud thump, his remains now nothing but another body in the landscape of corpses in the room. You moved to pull the axe out of his head with more aggression than needed before leaving. His words irritated you to no end, the man was nothing but an idle fool who made the choice of inaction. Never once did he try to stop his fellow suitors from tormenting Telemachus, never once has he tried to lessen all the resources they waste, never once did he leave when Telemachus ordered them. None of them did.

You let out a sigh as you walked through the hallways. Where exactly was Telemachus? And where was Odysseus? They most likely passed through this area already, if the bodies everywhere said anything. The father son duo was probably closer to the courtyards of the palace outside where the suitors must have fled towards. Either that or the pack of meatheads ran towards their weapon supply. You guessed it was the latter and promptly made your way through the familiar halls, passing by familiar faces on the floor that will never be missed. Surprisingly enough you couldn’t find any signs of struggle during battle. Nothing but the light of torches fallen on the floor could light up the scene, the moon and stars never daring to gaze upon the massacre. Bodies upon bodies were piled up in a gruesome display of vengeance with a vile stench that made your nose wrinkle in disgust, and yet each and every one of them only had an arrow to the head or chest to blame for their demise. No bruising nor cuts of a blade, only a lone arrow on each suitor. It was only after a long time of walking did the bodies slowly lessen in numbers, but still remained ever present. A silent reminder of the ruthless monster that lurked in these dark halls.

Your head turned towards the sound of metal blade against metal blade just to your right. Carefully peeking over the edge, your eyes widened at the sight of Telemachus fighting a suitor on his own. The light of a fallen torch reflected the glint of a knife in the darkness. Your grip on your axe tightened and you swung at the knife wielder without hesitation. The suitor’s screams were drowned by his own blood pouring out of his mouth, your axe lodged into his throat. Looking behind you, a surprised suitor was stabbed from behind, his blood coating the rest of the blade that pierced through him. The sword was pulled out and the suitor fell to the floor, revealing Telemachus behind him. “[name]? What are you doing here?” He asked as he looked around as if worried anyone might be eavesdropping. “Did you really think word of your suitor hunt wouldn’t get out? Tele, the entire palace could hear the screams of terror.” You replied as you rested your axe on your shoulder. “Of course I didn’t think we’d be able to hide a mass genocide! What I’m asking is why you came here after learning about a giant fight-“ He paused mid sentence, and you didn’t need to see his face to know he was staring at you with the most unimpressed expression you’ll ever see. You barely tried to hide your amused snickering as he rolled his eyes at you. “You know what? I retract my statement. The fight was all the reason you needed to come here, wasn’t it.” It was less of a question and more of a statement.

“Actually, not really. At least, it wasn’t the only reason.” You said you stared directly into his eyes that reflected the ever dancing light of the torch. The flame flickered, going from bright to dark and back within seconds. You could barely see Telemachus, but you poured every bit of attention you had into listening to Telemachus go from unamused to curious. “Really? Then what was it?” He asked as you smiled. “I’m looking right at it.” Telemachus looked around once more, but this time to find what you were staring directly at rather than look for hidden dangers. “Wha? But the only thing you’re looking at is… Oh.” You didn’t even try to hide your amusement this time, bursting out into a fit of howling laughter at his flushed face. “Really? Do you have to tease me even in the middle of battle?” You shoved your face right in front of his, mere inches away. “Yeah, cause you haven’t told me to stop yet.”

“Euryalus, he locked the rest of our weapons in one of the rooms! These are the only ones we have, none of us could open it up-“ Telemachus looked towards the group of new suitors, who immediately drew their weapons at the sight of the both of you. “Shit.” You cursed under your breath, you were kinda having a moment here. With much annoyance your stance changed from relaxed and playful with your axe on your shoulder, to a defensive battle stance with your weapon at the ready. Even with Telemachus, you could only handle so many suitors. “Hey Tele, remember what I told you about hunting wild hogs?” You asked as he looked at you incredulously. “Aim for the area around the shoulder or the head? [name], what does this have to do with anything-“ You cut him off with a mischievous grin barely lit by the torch. “Exactly. I suggest you aim for the chest since you’re too short for their heads.” You could practically see the gears turning in his head before he opened his mouth in a baffled offense.

You charged forwards to the four suitors, stepping on the torch and putting it out as you ran. You moved to the side of the group and swung your axe at the outermost member. He blocked your axe, and at the same time you heard the clash of metal from the other side of the group. You could barely see anything, but you recognized the silhouette of Telemachus fighting off the other two suitors. Another suitor came up from behind the one in front of you to aim his sword at your side. You pushed the sword blocking your axe downwards to block the other suitor’s sword, before pushing both of them off. Spinning around, you hit the head of the first suitor you attacked with your axe, killing them. The sight of another sword in the corner of your eye made your breath hitch, it was far too close for you to move away and turn around to block. You still tried to pull up your axe to block it, and a spray of blood passed by your view. By the time you were fully turned around to face your attacker, they were clutching their hand in pain. Or more like their lack of one. In front of you stood Telemachus, sword in hand as he charged forward, stabbing the suitor in their chest while they were writhing in pain. “[name], what did I say about minding your surroundings!” Telemachus said concerned as the suitor died and joined the rest of them on the floor. “Hey, it turned out okay in the end. He’s dead and I’m alive, I’ll be fine-“

A large thud behind you made you jump, and you slowly turned around with your axe held up. “You know, my son is right. If neither of us were here, you’d be another body on the floor.” You blinked and stared at the man before you. “Father!” Telemachus gasped from behind you. Oh. OH. “Odysseus?” You asked bewildered. He was a lot shorter than you expected. Now you know why Telemachus was shorter than all the men his age and you while his mother still towered over everyone in the room. He nodded with a gentle smile. “And you’re the [name] my son has so fondly told me about.” He said as he drew back his bow. You looked back at Telemachus and you both made eye contact, before you looked at Odysseus. “Wait, what? He talks about me? Wait, what did he say? Tele, you better not have told your father about the sand incident.” You heard him stifle a small chuckle, and you whipped around to gasp at him with all the exasperation you could manage. “You did not!”

“I did.” He said unapologetically. You stared at him in betrayal, jaw dropped before turning back to Odysseus. “Hey, your majesty, did you know that before I got with your son he trained Argos to run at me so he could pretend like he accidentally let him loose to make an opportunity to talk with mMMFFF!” Telemachus slapped his hand onto your mouth as you struggled against his arm. “I did not do that, she’s lying.” He said indignantly as Odysseus stared at the two of you amused. You shoved at Telemachus’s wrist while you both physically struggled against each other. You saw him eyeing your hand on his wrist and you looked at him sternly. “Don’t you even dare- OW!” The madlad bit your hand and you pulled away from him, your bodies detaching from one another. “You menace.” You said as he shoved his face into yours, mere inches away like you were mere moments ago. For a moment, he just stared at you and you stared back at him. It was like all the emotional intensity that was interrupted before was returning full force, a shameless rush of affection like a raging river. You’ve always been told by Penelope that there were moments between her and Odysseus that felt like time stopped, when they looked into their eyes and saw love for eternity in each other. But right now, you felt nothing close to that. It was like time was rushing past you with no end, quick and intense. Every small detail blurred together into Telemachus, and in his eyes you saw the life you have right now.

“Telemachus, I know little to nothing about you, and even less about [name], but I see the same love I have for your mother in you, and I see the same love Penelope has for me in [name].” You both stared at him, hands that had intertwined subconsciously squeezing tightly. Telemachus looked over to you, and once again you saw not just your life in his eyes, but yours and his. “I approve of this one.” Your lover blinked in sync with you. “Besides, weren’t you the one who said how much you loved it when she stood up for you before you got the courage to fight Antinous?” Telemachus stared at his father and after a beat of silence, screeched with embarrassment. “FATHER, DON’T-“ You looked at Odysseus with a devious grin, and began to explain every single Argos incident while Telemachus hid his face in your neck.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Spoiled Rotten

The lads men showing how spoiled their girl is. ft everybody even the mystery 6th LI [Requested by: Self aware anon]

Zayne

_thedrzayne

♥️ liked by misshuntermc, yvannamama, _thedrnoah and 77k others

_thedrzayne: I want to spoil you like this for the next decade

tagged: misshuntermc

comments

misshuntermc: Loving you isn’t enough I need to be curled up inside your frontal lobe

↳ _thedrzayne: ‘Zayne I love you’ would've sufficed My Love ↳ misshuntermc: When he says ‘I love you’ but I say ‘Let me wear you as a skin suit’ 😈 ↳ _thedrzayne: ok…..

_thedrnoah: Young love such a beautiful thing treat her well kiddo 👍🏼

↳ _thedrzayne: I wouldn’t treat her any other way and I’m not a child ↳ misshuntermc: Don’t be a smartass 😒

yvannamama: If he doesn’t love me like this I don’t want it

↳ gray.sun: You find that crush yet? 🧐 ↳ yvannamama: You think I won’t put roaches in your shoes? 🙃 ↳ _thedrzayne: Yvonne where would you acquire roaches? ↳ yvannamama: I’m sure Carter got a few crawling on him ↳ _thedrzayne: You’re probably right

— View 42 more comments

Rafayel

seagod_raf_

♥️ liked by vocalsby.talia, misshuntermc, thomasthomas_ and 75k others

seagod_raf_: You said pink long stem roses? Heard you 🙂‍↕️

tagged: misshuntermc

comments

misshuntermc: I love you my little fishie real bad 😘

↳ seagod_raf_: 😍😍😩💞 ↳ misshuntermc: I’m still confused on how you got these so fast I asked for these like 10 minutes ago ↳ seagod_raf_: I’m the worlds best boyfriend 😏

vocalsby.talia: Are they fake?

↳ seagod_raf_: Is that a wig? 🤨

thomasthomas_: How the actual hell do you find this many roses with stems that long?

↳ misshuntermc: I’m wondering the same thing ↳ seagod_raf_: I’ll take that as the compliment I know it was meant to be ↳ thomasthomas_: 😐😐

talkthat_tara: Girl did you fall?

↳ misshuntermc: No ↳ simonesays: Are you lying right now? ↳ misshuntermc: …. yea ._. ↳ liiisa_: The wheeze I just whuzzed 🤣

— View 27 more comments

Xavier

lumiere.who

♥️ liked by whosjeremiah, misshuntermc, imjenna and 70k others

lumiere.who: Maybe she’ll let me in the kitchen after this

tagged: misshuntermc

comments

misshuntermc: The answer is a resounding fuck no but thank you for the gifts 🥰

↳ lumiere.who: Just once? ↳ misshuntermc: No 😘

simonesays: Damn I might’ve folded lowkey 😬

↳ whosjeremiah: You haven’t seen Xavier try to cook 🫣 ↳ liiisa_: Consider yourself blessed and highly favored ↳ misshuntermc: Hes singed the tail off my eyebrow making scarmbled eggs before

talkthat_tara: Hold on don’t we work for the same company? 🤔

↳ liiisa_: Right?! The math aint mathin’ ↳ misshuntermc: He’s secretly a Prince from an entirely different planet 👀 ↳ lumiere.who: I just have a few side jobs ↳ imjenna: Are they hiring? ↳ nene.nero: Jenna asking the right questions

— View 32 more comments

Sylus

skye.109

♥️ liked by misshuntermc, thing1_luke, thing2_kieran and 82k others

skye.109: She’s humble for the masses but this is what I get

tagged: misshuntermc

comments

misshuntermc: You get me and all my love 😘

↳ skye.109: You know what hell yeah ↳ misshuntermc: 🤭❤️ ↳ simonesays: Bitch I know thats right 👏🏼

liiisa_: This man has an unlimited money hack and he only got roses? Side eye.

↳ misshuntermc: We’re standing in a new villa he bought me as a ‘just because’ gift ↳ liiisa_: …….Girl just delete my comment next time 🙂 ↳ skye.109: Loud and wrong that’s quite the combination ↳ thing2_kieran: PFFFTT ↳ misshuntermc: Kieran I know you’re not laughing you blew on a spoonful of cold cereal today stop it ✋🏾 ↳ thing2_kieran: ☹️☹️

nene.nero: Day 109 of me opening this app and being called broke in 50 different languages

↳ thing1_luke: Damn thats tough … Stay up soldier 🫡 ↳ talkthat_tara: Luke please what if that was his 13th reason?

— View 47 more comments

Caleb

callmecaleb

♥️ liked by misshuntermc, giggity_gideon, talkthat_tara and 72k others

callmecaleb: I’ll always take you wherever you want to go

tagged: misshuntermc

comments

misshuntermc: Taking me out of the country last minute to get authentic sushi is insane

↳ callmecaleb: I mean I am crazy in love with you ↳ misshuntermc: Okay Beyonce

talkthat_tara: Go ahead and just land that plane right on me when you get back

↳ simonesays: I’m right there with you babes ↳ liiisa_: She got that storybook love like tell me your secrets

giggity_gideon: Me and who? 🤔

↳ callmecaleb: Your right hand ↳ liiisa_: STOP OMG ☠️ ↳ giggity_gideon: It’s actually my left I hold the phone with my right 📱 ↳ misshuntermc: Gideon go ahead and log out for me 🫴🏾

— View 18 more comments

Secret Admirer

misshuntermc

♥️ liked by skye.109, seagod_raf_, callmecaleb and 140k others

misshuntermc: Found this on my doorstep ; im not complaining

comments

liiisa_: NOW WHO TF? 🤨

simonesays: Ma’am do you have beer flavored nipples or something?

talkthat_tara: Coochie got witchcraft embedded in it or something

↳ misshuntermc: Bold of you to assume im giving up Nani

skye.109: I would’ve left my black card with the pin but this is cute

↳ seagod_raf_: Here you go WE DO NOT CARE ↳ skye.109: That was quite the response….funds running low? Is that why you’re so irritable? ↳ seagod_raf_: Band for band ↳ skye.109: Don’t embarrass yourself on the internet like that

_thedrzayne: This looks like something Caleb would do but i’m just spectulating

↳ callmecaleb: I would’ve handed it to her and cooked her a meal but thanks for thinking I'd be this cowardly ↳ _thedrzayne: You’re welcome ↳ callmecaleb: 😐😐

nene.nero: I’m surprised Xavier wasn’t the first comment

↳ misshuntermc: He showed up on my balcony like 2 minutes after I posted this ↳ imjenna: The front door wasn’t an option? ↳ misshuntermc: I guess not 🥴

— View 227 more comments

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

If you’re still taking ideas for tonight 🫶🏻 maybe H and y/n going on their first walk as a family - either baby in the carrier on Harry’s chest or y/n pushing the pram, all wrapped up warm on a winter walk then going to meet Anne for a coffee so baby could have nanna cuddles 🥰

Spring Walks.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!!

in which, it’s your’s and harry’s first walk as a family of four, and even though it’s spring, the weathers very chilly and your little one is in the pram whilst your four year old is sat on his daddy’s shoulders.

word count - 1k.

It’s just past ten on a chilly spring morning, the kind where the sky is washed in soft blue and the clouds seem like afterthoughts. The forest trail beneath your feet is damp from last night’s rain, but it smells incredible—earthy, fresh, and full of that green-sap scent that only comes with early leaves.

You wrap your coat tighter around you and glance down into the pram. Your daughter is sleeping soundly, her tiny chest rising and falling under the knit blanket Anne gave you just before she was born. Her face is impossibly small, features still undefined in that newborn way—more like a dream than a person just yet.

“S’out cold,” Harry says, leaning over your shoulder to peek in at her. “Like her mum, snoring by nine.”

You laugh quietly, nudging him. “I do not snore.”

“Y’do a little puff. Like a baby hedgehog.” He makes a tiny snuffling sound and then grins, proud of himself.

“You are so lucky I’m sleep-deprived and too tired to argue.”

He chuckles and shifts his grip on your four-year-old son, who is perched high up on his shoulders, little wellies bouncing lightly against Harry’s chest with each step. His tiny hands are tangled in Harry’s curls, his cheeks rosy and wind-bitten.

“Daddy, look!” your son shouts, pointing toward a squirrel sprinting up a tree. “He’s got something in his mouth! Is it a sandwich?”

Harry squints. “Looks like a bit of leaf or something, buddy. Probably not a sandwich. Squirrels don’t have lunchboxes.”

“They should,” your son decides seriously. “We could give them some snacks.”

You join in, “That’s how you make forest friends, you know. You leave them tiny peanut butter sandwiches, and they send thank-you notes made of twigs.”

“Really?” He gasps, eyes wide.

Harry laughs, “Well, sort of. But you’ve got to be very, very quiet so you don’t scare them.”

Your son nods solemnly and immediately whispers, “Okay.” Then, a second later: “BUT IF I SEE A FOX I’M GONNA SCREAM!.”

You and Harry both burst into quiet laughter, trying not to wake the baby.

You fall into step beside him, the gravel crunching underfoot. The path is scattered with fallen blossoms from some early-flowering tree, pink petals caught in puddles and clinging to your boots.

“Can you believe we’re here?” you say softly. “Family of four. Two whole kids.”

Harry exhales, long and warm, like he’s been holding that feeling in his chest and is only just letting it out. “I know. Feels unreal. Like we blinked and suddenly… we’re outnumbered.”

You laugh. “You’re the one who wanted more chaos.”

“I did,” he admits, smiling. “And I’d do it all again. Every nappy, every midnight bottle, every ‘I want juice’ at four in the morning.”

You glance at him with a smirk. “That last one was you.”

He shrugs. “What can I say? Apple juice tastes better at night.”

A soft wind stirs the leaves around you. You adjust the pram handle, and Harry watches you for a moment before speaking again.

“Y’amazing, you know,” he says quietly. “Like. I watch you with them, and I think—how did I get so lucky?”

You look over at him, touched. “You were charming. And tall. That helped.”

“That’s it then?” he laughs. “Tall and charming?”

You lean into him a little, shoulder brushing his. “And you make a very good climbing frame.”

From above, your son yells, “I’m a tree-climber! I’m on top of Daddy Mountain!”

“Hold on, little explorer,” Harry says, pretending to wobble. “Daddy Mountain’s feeling an earthquake in his back.”

“Don’t fall, Daddy! I’m too small to raise a baby!”

That has you both laughing so hard you have to stop for a moment. You reach up and steady your son’s leg while you catch your breath.

The trail starts to widen, and ahead you can see glimpses of the high street through the thinning trees. The edge of town greets you with the smell of fresh bread from the bakery and a faint bell from someone opening a shop door.

Harry glances over. “Mum said she got us the corner table outside. Figured we’d want space for the pram.”

You nod, grateful. “She always thinks of everything.”

“She’s been dying to show off the baby,” he adds. “I think she’s printed pictures for strangers on the bus.”

“She’s so excited to have another granddaughter, she’s got so many plans already.” Harry adds. “For both of them.”

You smirk. “Like what?”

“She wants to take her first grandbaby to the petting zoo, just them two. And she said we should have a nap together while she watches the baby.”

You blink, surprised. “A nap together? Like… sleep?”

“I know,” Harry teases, “remember that?”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling the warmth in your chest bloom. You’d give anything for just one afternoon of that quiet kind of closeness again. But for now, this walk—this moment—is enough.

As you turn onto the main road, your son gasps. “There’s Nana! I see her!”

Anne is already waving from her spot at the café, wearing a scarf you bought her last Christmas and holding a takeaway cup in one hand. When she sees you, her whole face lights up. She stands before you even reach her, arms out.

Harry gently lifts your son off his shoulders, setting him down. “Go on then, give Nana a cuddle.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice—he races ahead, nearly colliding with her in a hug. Anne laughs and scoops him up effortlessly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Then she turns to you, eyes misty.

“There’s my girl,” she says, kissing your cheek, then leaning over the pram. “And there’s my littlest love. Oh, she’s perfect.”

Harry wraps an arm around your shoulders, drawing you into him. “We made some good ones, didn’t we?”

You lean into him, smile tugging at your lips as you watch your family. “We really did.”

Anne looks up. “Well, I’ve ordered you both tea, and I got extra pastries because you’re both barely eating anything proper—”

“We eat!” you protest.

“You nibble. Like nervous mice,” she says, waving her hand. “Now sit. Warm up. I’ll cuddle this one in a minute.”

[thepencilnerd]

Hi! I absolutely adore all your Dr. Robby fics! 🥰 I have a request if you don’t mind.

Reader is a day shift nurse, and she and Robby have been in an established relationship for a while. It’s a particularly brutal shift, and towards the end of the night, Robby ends up unintentionally snapping at her. When he goes to apologize, he finds that she’s already clocked out for the night without telling him. Some angst in the beginning, but then lots of fluff as he tries to make it up to her 🥺

apologies for getting to this so late ㅠㅠ thank you for your patience and for sending in the request <3

It was a hellish day.

Twelve hours of sheer chaos: two back-to-back codes before noon, a combative patient who’d bitten a tech and tried to throw a chair, and a skeleton crew so threadbare it felt like a cruel joke. By mid-morning, you were running on caffeine and sheer momentum, your half-drunk coffee from 7 a.m. long gone cold, abandoned somewhere near the nurses’ station.

You’d had your hand halfway in a med drawer when someone shouted your name for a second rapid response. Your feet ached. Your head throbbed. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d peed.

And Robby? He was just as underwater. The ER looked like a war zone—gurneys crammed into hallways, the hum of vitals monitors overlapping with the chaos of overhead pages. Overworked residents flitted between trauma rooms like ghosts, their eyes wide, their hands shaking.

At some point around 3 p.m., a fresh intern had the misfortune of asking Robby if he had a minute.

"Does it look like I have a goddamn minute?" he snapped without even turning around, yanking open a cabinet that was, of course, empty.

Later, someone from pharmacy stopped him in the hallway. "Dr. Robby, I was told you wanted—"

"I wanted meds that were actually on the floor, not more red tape and excuses. You want to help? Then help. Otherwise, get out of the way."

Langdon raised an eyebrow at him in passing. "You bite anyone yet today, or just barking?"

Robby didn’t answer. Just muttered something under his breath and kept moving, fists clenched at his sides.

He was a live wire, every nerve lit up with frustration, and no matter how he tried to keep it in check, the stress kept leaking out upside-down and sideways.

By hour eleven, everyone’s nerves were raw. You were charting in a rush outside Trauma One when Robby passed by, muttering something low and sharp about the meds being out again.

"Sorry?" you called after him, brow furrowed, not quite catching it.

He turned fast, jaw clenched, voice clipped. "Forget it. I’ll do it myself."

You blinked, stung by the sudden bite in his tone. For a second, you just stood there, fingers frozen above the tablet. Robby looked at you—just for a split second, eyes tight with something you couldn’t place—before spinning on his heel and storming off down the hall, the back of his scrub top disappearing around the corner.

You swallowed the lump rising in your throat, blinked hard, and forced yourself to keep moving. He didn’t mean it, you told yourself. It was the stress. The shift from hell. Still, it lodged somewhere deep. Tight.

You didn’t stop by to say goodbye at the end of the night. Didn’t look for him. You badged out without a word, shoved your hoodie over your scrubs, and walked straight out.

—

Robby noticed the silence as soon as it hit. No goodbye wave, no shoulder tap before you headed back home—always before him, never after—and no text saying you got back safe.

"Hey," he stopped Mel in passing. "Have you seen Y/N?"

Mel raised a brow. "She left fifteen minutes ago. Is everything okay?"

He barely had time to mutter a curse before Dana walked past, eyeing him. "What happened? She looked upset."

"None of your business," Robby snapped.

Mel widened her eyes ever so slightly and bid the two of you a quick goodnight before speed-walking off. 

Dana's eyebrows shot up. "Jesus, just asking."

Jack, who’d been scribbling something onto a chart nearby, looked up. "Don’t take it out on her. Or anyone else."

"I’m not—" Robby started, but Jack cut him off with a sharp look.

"Then maybe figure out where she went and why she left without saying goodbye. It's usually good to know those things."

The weight of it hit Robby square in the chest. His stomach twisted.

"Shit," he muttered again, already fishing his phone out of his pocket.

You were already on your couch by the time he texted.

[9:12PM] Robby: Hey baby [9:13PM] Robby: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap earlier. [9:14PM] Robby: You didn't deserve that. 

You didn’t answer.

When he knocked twenty minutes later, you were in sweats, face freshly washed, still nursing the dull ache behind your eyes. You hovered by the door for a moment before opening it—slowly, cautiously.

He looked wrecked. More than tired—haunted. Like the guilt had been gnawing at him since the minute his eyes left yours.

"Hey," he said, voice low, hands jammed deep in his jacket pockets like he was bracing for impact.

You leaned against the doorframe, saying nothing. Your silence did more damage than any yelling ever could.

He swallowed hard. "I know I messed up. I was short with everyone, but with you... You didn’t deserve that."

Still, you didn’t move.

"I kept playing it back in my head," he continued. "The way you looked at me when I dismissed you like you didn’t matter—I’ve never wanted to take something back faster."

Your arms stayed folded, but your expression cracked just slightly. "I get that it was a bad day. But I’m not just someone you can snap at and ignore. No one is, Robby. Especially on days like today."

"I know," he whispered. "You’re not just anything. You’re—you’re it for me."

That hit you somewhere deep, but you held firm. "You didn’t even look at me. Not once."

He stepped forward carefully, like you might bolt. "That’s on me. I was spiraling and stupid and blind to the one person who never deserves to be collateral."

You didn’t answer right away. Just looked at him—quiet and unreadable.

"I kept thinking," he said softly, "that maybe you'd still be there when I looked back. But you weren’t. And that scared the hell out of me."

Still nothing. But your shoulders had loosened, just a little.

"I hate that I made you feel small," he added, voice almost breaking. "You never are. You're—god, you're the only part of my day that ever makes sense. And I blew it."

His gaze dropped. "You don’t owe me anything. I just... I needed you to know that. I needed to say it."

He pressed his forehead against the doorframe for a moment, eyes squeezed shut like he could will himself into being better. Into being enough. 

"You mean everything to me," he murmured, barely audible. "And I keep proving it the wrong way."

When he looked up again, his eyes were glassy. "Even if you slam the door in my face, I’m still yours. I’ve always been."

You stayed quiet for a long moment, your jaw tense, thumb brushing the edge of the door.

"It really hurt," you said finally, voice low. "Not just what you said—but how easy it was for you to walk away after. Like it didn’t matter. Like *I *didn't matter."

He flinched. "You matter more than anything. And I hate that I made you question that. I don’t want to be that person—not with you. Not ever."

Another pause. Then, softly, carefully, "I forgive you," you said, not quite looking at him. "But don’t do that again. Don’t shut me out when I’m the one who sees you the clearest."

His chest deflated with visible relief. "I won’t. I swear. I promise," he added, extending his pinky toward you like an olive branch.

You stared at it for a second, then slowly reached out and hooked yours around his.

"Good," you said, your voice dry but edged with something fond. "Because if you do, I’m getting Jack to rough you up. Maybe Dana. Or worse—I'll tell Myrna you actually look forward to seeing her every morning."

He barked a laugh, pinky still locked with yours. "Cruel. Ruthless. A fitting punishment."

You didn’t let go. Not yet.

A beat passed. Then another.

He reached into his bag. "I brought soup," he said gently, like it might fix everything. "And those weird cookies you like. The crunchy ones that taste like cardboard?"

A breath hitched in your chest. You tried not to laugh. Failed.

"Jesus, you're pathetic," you muttered, looking away, lips twitching.

Robby’s knees buckled in exaggerated relief, like someone had just absolved him of sin. He dropped his head back and looked up at the ceiling, hands still clutching the soup and cookies.

"Thank God," he groaned. "I know we don’t talk much, big guy, but seriously—thank you."

Then, looking at you with an almost bashful smile, he added, "I am pathetic. Completely. And I’m more than happy to admit it—if it means I get to keep earning your forgiveness, one cardboard cookie at a time."

He didn’t move until you finally stepped back and opened the door a little wider.

You didn’t say anything else—just turned and padded toward the kitchen, barely suppressing a smile.

He followed like a puppy, food in hand, like they were offerings to a deity he'd wronged and was now desperate to please.

While you unpacked the food onto the counter, Robby hovered close behind you. Without a word, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pressing his chest to your back like he couldn’t stand another inch of space between you. His nose nudged gently into the curve of your neck as he peppered light kisses from your cheek down to your shoulder.

"Don’t think buttering me up means I forgive you entirely," you murmured, not turning around. "I’m still bummed."

Robby hummed against your skin, voice low and sheepish. "I know. I don’t deserve it yet. But what ever shall I do to earn your forgiveness, my love? Shall I cook every meal this week? Rub your feet? Write a strongly worded apology letter signed in my own tears?"

You snorted, biting back a grin. "The tears are tempting."

He nuzzled closer. "Just wait till you see my handwriting."

—

Later, curled on the couch under your shared weighted blanket, your head tucked beneath his chin, Robby breathed in the smell of your shampoo like it grounded him. He kissed the top of your head, slow and lingering.

"I’m lucky you love me even when I’m an ass," he whispered.

You poked his side. "Always love, only sometimes an ass."

He let out a quiet laugh, voice muffled by your hair. "Fair."

There was a stillness then, the kind only earned after a storm—when everything’s been said, and the only thing left is the gentle rise and fall of shared breathing. His hand rubbed small circles against your back, steady and warm.

Then his voice, quieter this time: "Earlier... when I said you were it for me—I meant it. Every word. I’ve known it for a while now. I just didn’t realize how badly I could mess things up until tonight."

You shifted slightly to look up at him.

"You see right through me. Always have. And I think some part of me is still getting used to what it means to be fully seen. And loved." His words felt like velvet against the warm ambience.

He pondered his next words, throat bobbing as his lips parted to think, to try. You pressed your forehead to his, silently telling himself to let go. That it was okay. "You deserve to be loved, Michael."

He tightened his arms around you, grounding himself in the weight of your words and presence. "Only by you," he murmured. "I don’t think I ever really believed I deserved someone like you—but I’m done running from it. I'm all in."

You didn’t speak, just let your fingers trace idle patterns on his chest.

"You’ve seen me at my worst and still stayed," he said quietly. "If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. And I swear, I’ll never make you question it again." 

He kissed your temple, voice thick. "You have all of me. Even the messy parts."

"Especially the messy parts," you mumbled, only partially joking. 

He gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. "I don’t know how I got so damn lucky."

His hand on yours, warm and steady, drawing soft shapes against your knuckles like he was trying to memorize every line. A tender ritual—quiet, reverent—like he was mapping constellations only he could see, and each star was a promise he intended to keep.

"But I do know I’m not letting go of it. Not for anything."

The air was heavy with everything unspoken and everything already said. You leaned in, pressing a slow, soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. One that poured everything you didn’t have the words for—gratitude, exhaustion, love—into a single moment.

Another beat passed. Then he added, a little lighter, "I was serious about the apology letter, by the way. Could even laminate it. Put it on the fridge. Frame it next to your diplomas."

You chuckled against his chest. "You’re whipped, Robinavitch."

"For you? Always."

And even though you’d had the kind of day that wrung you out and left you hollow, his arms made you feel full again. Safe. Like maybe, just maybe, love really was enough on days like this.