#its a shirtless jam

[rizz-penguin]

(snorts) look

[bahrlee]

...Nah I'm good

[swag-system]

Psys getting way too invested in psycho dad destroys xbox while i repeatedly vocal stim sing while were on vc together. True love ❤️

[reilemon]

🍷Ambrosia🍷

♡︎ synopsis: You give Sylus a private pole dance show.

♡︎ pairing: Sylus x fem!reader

⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒

♡︎ cw: pre-relationship, pole dancing, lap dance, cowgirl, missionary, creampie

♡︎ word count: 4.2k

♡︎ a/n: If you don't like how I wrote Sylus pls don't say anything. 😭

♡︎ a little gift for my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎

divider by @cafekitsune

"Why are you walking by yourself in the city at 1 am?" Sylus asks you over the phone.

You look around, searching for Mephisto. You sigh when you fail. "I just wanted to sober up on my way home."

"You can sober up in my car." And as if on cue, a familiar black car pulls up next to you.

The other line cuts off and Sylus exits, walking around and opening the passenger's door. "Get in, sweetie."

You cross your arms. "I don't wanna get car sick."

"You won't. I'll drive slowly."

"But I'm like five minutes away from my apartment." You look around at the empty street. No people and no surveillance cameras. You did pick out a weird route, but it was in a peaceful neighborhood. "Why don't you walk with me?"

Sylus' shoulders slump at your request. Not because it's unreasonable, but because he hoped the car ride would be more than five minutes long.

After parking the car, he returns to you carrying a water bottle and a paper bag with a logo of a donut shop. He hands them over, and you accept, feeling guilty.

"Did you get these for me?"

He shrugs. "I always drive by that place, so I got curious and bought some."

"Oh... Oh?" Your eyes land on a stain on his shirt. Blood? No - "Is that jam?"

He glances down "Right, I tried one and it spilled on my shirt. I can just get a new one."

You roll your eyes. "Of course you can. I have something that can remove the stain."

When you turn to start walking, he grabs your hand and loops your arm around his. "Slow down, I don't want you to trip."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Just when you locked the doors of your apartment, it hit you that Sylus, the infamous leader of Onichynus, your friend (?), is in your apartment. At 1 am, for the first time. The apartment isn't messy, but you still would've prepared it more. For instance, you would've put away the pole standing in the middle of your living room.

Of course, that's the first thing Sylus notices. "You like to pole dance, kitten?"

The question sobers you up immediately. Your face and ears burn in embarrassment, and you can feel sweat forming on your back. "Um, sometimes. When I have time." You scurry away to the kitchen to put away the food, Sylus chuckling behind you. You wouldn't be so flustered if you knew those cool, energetic moves. No, instead, all you know is the sensual, seductive ones. They're like a breath of fresh air, given the nature of your job.

You go back to Sylus who made himself comfortable on your sofa, taking in the new environment. "I have a men's t-shirt that could fit you, and I'll return your shirt the next time I see you."

With a slight glare he responds "I'm not wearing another man's clothes."

You sigh "It's mine. I like to wear baggy clothes around the house." Although, you can't help but smile a little at that display of jealousy. Was it, though? Or are you just being delusional?

You wish it was.

His face returns to the neutral relaxed state, with his usual amused smirk. The face, you noticed, he only has when he's around you. It wasn't like that in the beginning (let's not talk about the beginning), but the more time you spent with him, the more you got to see his gentle side.

Lost in your daydream, you didn't notice that he was almost done unbuttoning the stained shirt, revealing he doesn't have anything underneath.

When he completely takes it off, your eyes are glued to his torso. This is your first time seeing him completely shirtless, leaving you unable to peel off your gaze from his chiseled muscles, broad shoulders-

"It's rude to stare, sweetie."

You blink, snapping out of the shameless ogling, taking the shirt that was lingering in his hand for a moment as he was trying to hand it to you.

"I wasn't staring." You, again, make a run for it, this time to your bedroom to fish out a clean oversized t-shirt for him. When you return to the living room, your eyes are fixated on his face, fighting the urge to look down and stare at his physique.

He thanks you and puts it on. It fits almost perfectly, and although he's covered, the sight is making your heart flutter.

He takes a whiff of the fabric. "Smells nice."

After a brief chat about laundry (of course Sylus doesn't do it, but knows how to, apparently), you turn towards the bathroom, claiming "Trust me, I'll make that stain disappear."

"I bet you can't."

The accusation makes you stop in your tracks. "I bet I can! And if I win, you'll get me something pretty."

Sylus chuckles, eyeing you from head to toe. "If you lose, you'll dance for me."

Fell right into his trap.

With a shaky voice you refuse, "I don't think so. Pick something else."

Sylus raises an eyebrow, genuinely surprised at your declining of the bet for the first time. "Oh?" He notices how you're shifting where you stand, averting your gaze. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

You shake your head "You didn't, it's just that - " You trail off, an idea popping up in your head. By now, Sylus can read your face with ease, so he smirks when your eyes light up and he listens intently. "How about, if you actually want me to put on a little show for you, you buy me a bottle of my favorite perfume?"

You've been running low, and it's currently out of stock literally everywhere you looked. If he actually wants to see you dance, he'll have to put in a little bit of work. Not only is the perfume out of stock, he doesn’t even know which one is your favorite. At least you never told him. And even if he, by some miracle, finds it, you'll just do a few spins and take your perfume. It's not like he asked you to give him a lap dance. You probably wouldn't be opposed to it, though.

He raises his eyebrows before nodding. "Deal."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

As you shut the door of the bathroom, Sylus slowly sneaks his way into your bedroom. Actually, it’s not sneaking in if you left the door open, right?

However, he's not a creep who uses this opportunity to go through your underwear drawer. No, he goes straight to your vanity and takes a sniff of every fancy looking perfume, remembering almost every single scent and occasion you wore them on.

The water stopped running in the bathroom. He needs to wrap this up. There's one more bottle, the printed logo and letters worn out, almost empty. He chuckles, as he wonders if this is the one since you're running low and want him to replace it. You could've just asked him to and he'd get you ten more.

His eyes roll back as the ambrosial scent hits his nose. That's it, that's the one. Oh, how he adores it. It smells intoxicating when it's on you. And you're wearing it tonight, him catching a hint of it when you met up and he had to fight every fiber in his body not to bury his face in your neck, taking in your perfume and the feel of your soft skin.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

At the doorway of Sylus' bedroom, you stare at the pole installed in the middle of the room. When he said to take the now stain-free shirt to his bedroom, you thought it was odd since, well - why would you go into his bedroom? The last time you were here, was to search for that brooch and he kicked you out every time. Except for the last time, when you succeeded in finding it, the moments on his bed that you fantasize more often than you'd like to admit, where you wish it led to something more.

"You know you're allowed to enter?" Sylus' teasing voice appears behind you.

You peer at him over your shoulder "You already have the pole installed? Without even getting the perfume first?" After all, it's only been a few days since you last saw him, and when you gave him the challenge.

"Take a better look, sweetie." He nods in the direction of the desk.

You take a step inside to get a closer look, with Sylus trailing behind you to stand next to you. Of course, there it is - the bottle of your favorite perfume waiting for you. Sylus smirks in self-satisfaction as your face is too easy to read now, you can't lie your way out of this.

Nor do you want to.

"Well," Sylus gestures towards the bed, "I took the liberty of ordering some outfits for you."

You then eye the clothes that you didn't notice earlier, gawking at the stunning pieces that ranged from coverage to more provocative, and all in your favorite colors.

You turn to him, eyes wide "I - " You don't even know what to say - you want to thank him, but at the same time you didn't expect him to do all this. You know that he is as generous as he is wealthy, but his thoughtfulness always catches you off guard. One of the main reasons why you like him so much.

He chuckles at your cute reaction and pats your head. Then he takes the shirt that was still in your hands and walks towards the door. "I'll give you half an hour to pick out an outfit and warm up."

"Wha - ?"

He shuts the door behind him.

Fuck.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You took more time trying on your new pole outfits than warming up, leaving you with only five minutes to frantically pack them in an empty box you assumed was for the clothes, and to actually warm up. There was nothing underneath the skimpy outfit you picked out, since you had to get rid of your underwear that was ruining the look. There were even some heels waiting for you, and even though you didn't have to wear them, you couldn't resist. You put some of your favorite perfume on, of course, and in the middle of the brief warm-up you thought of one more detail.

There's a soft knock on the door and you frantically exit Sylus' closet, almost tripping in your high heels as you go back to the pole.

Sylus enters the room and you can see that he's stunned for a brief second, as he sees you wearing heels and one of his silk robes.

He closes the door behind him and comments with an amused smile "I don't remember displaying my robe on the bed."

You fidget the soft fabric of the belt, trying to ignore the thumping of your heart as the reality of the situation is starting to settle in. The pole next to you, Sylus asking you which playlist he should play, your nose picking up the familiar scent of his fabric softener.

You must've looked like a deer in headlights, because Sylus' concerned frown as he calls your name snaps you back to reality.

"Are you okay? You don't really have to do this -."

"No, I'm fine!" You clear your throat, steeling your resolve. You want to do this. "I was just trying to remember the song..." You grab your phone and hand it over to him to connect it with the stereo and go back to wait by the pole.

You may have fantasized about dancing for him more than you'd like to admit - and not just in these few days since you last saw him. You also may have more than one song that reminds you of him and that you created choreographies for.

While setting up, Sylus sits down on the sofa in front of you.

He can feel your eyes on him.

"What?" He asks, still setting up.

“Nothing.” You look away and do some of the last warm up moves. You wanted to jokingly ask if he expected a lap dance, but you chickened out. The deal was for you to just show off some of your pole dance moves, that’s it. No striptease, no lap dancing…

You collect the courage to make the joke anyway, but just as you open your mouth the first notes of the song you picked out hit your ears.

He puts your phone away and makes himself comfortable in his seat - legs spread, hands resting on his thighs, lips pulled in that smirk, his eyes fully focused on you.

So you give him your most confident-looking smile, grab the pole with one hand and start walking around it. You drag the platforms of your shoes across the floor, just gliding around before getting into the show-off moves. Your movements are fluid, making it looks so easy - from spinning around to air walking. The music and the dancing soothe your anxiety and lift your mood. You know you look good. After a few spins, the silk robe starts getting in the way. With your back turned to him, your hands untie the belt and slide the robe off your shoulders. You look back at him with a playful grin, and you can't help but feel smug at how immersed he is in your performance, one arm now resting on the backrest, eyes raking over your whole body and face, anticipating your next move.

The robe slips off completely and you toss it away somewhere. You feel your cheeks heat up as the air hits your newly exposed skin. This is the first time you've showed so much of yourself to Sylus, and you couldn't help but feel a little shy. But then you see him shifting in his seat, face a little more serious, the attention giving you butterflies. With so much of your skin exposed, you show off some of the advanced moves, and you feel a new boost of confidence. You know it’s stunning - the way you look in your revealing outfit and how you perform these moves with ease.

The other half of the song starts playing, and you decide to shift from the pole to the floor. Fixing your gaze to the side, on Sylus, you go down on all floors, slowly gliding your upper body, your butt propped up, giving him a perfect view of your silhouette. Red eyes follow every step and take in your expressions that go from focused to playful and a little flirty.

Maybe more flirty than you realize.

You lie on your back, lifting your legs and move your hips side to side, making slow waves with your legs. With every next move, you're bolder, more provocative, locking eyes with him as you move.

In the brief silence between the songs, Sylus chuckles "Is that all, kitten?"

You know he's teasing. After all the time you spent together, some of them literally tied to each other, you know how to recognize the slight differences in his tone.

You know how to tease too. Smiling mischievously, you get on all fours, back arched, and slowly crawl towards him, cat style.

Sylus' lips stretch into a half grin as he watches you close the distance, with you now on your knees by his feet. He loved every second of your performance, his admiration for you only growing, always unconsciously proving to him that you are worth every second of his time and every bit of effort to be more patient. But every moment of that performance made his patience run thin. The craving, the need for you – it’s starting to overtake him. The sensual moves, the most provocative outfit he picked out but thought he was pushing his luck with, they made your body, made you, irresistible. He needed to deflect. He loves teasing you because your reactions are always so cute and amusing. He expected a pout or a snarky comment but instead you started crawling towards him and-

You graze your hands over his thighs, feeling the muscles under the fabric of his pants twitch with your touch and stopping just around his hips. Then, you gracefully stood up and turned around, arching your back and moving your hips to the rhythm, giving him a nice view of your butt. As you look over your shoulder, you have to bite back a self-satisfied grin when you catch his gaze raking over your body, not being subtle about it at all. You turn to face him, hands grabbing onto his shoulders as you position yourself to kneel over him, and with every fiber in your body, you fight the urge to just sit on his crotch, to feel if he's hard at all. So you lean back, arms behind your back and holding onto his thighs as you stretch your torso and you roll your hips, your eyes locked with his.

With the second song almost over, you lean towards him, your lips tickling his earlobe, your eyes catching the goosebumps on the skin of his neck and the redness on his ear. "I guess this is all I got."

And just when you're about to push yourself off the sofa, Sylus' strong hands grab you by the hips, pressing them down on his clothed erection, a yelp escaping your lips upon contact.

"Are you sure?" His red eyes, illuminated by the low lights of his bedroom, are on you, lidded with lust.

Just a bit more.

You sigh innocently and avert your gaze, resting your arms on his shoulders, your hips moving lazily over the rock hard erection, earning a choked grunt from the man under you, his hands gripping the soft flesh of your hips and butt.

"Well..." You trail off, steadying your breathing as arousal started rapidly coursing through your body, making your mouth dry and pussy wet. "I think - !?"

Sylus' hand wraps around your jaw, making you look back at him. His lips are parted, cheeks flushed, and you don't think you've ever seen his eyes looking at you with such intensity.

Out of breath, he asks you, "Can I kiss you?"

"Y-yes."

His lips take yours in a searing kiss, the hand on your hip trailing over your back and pressing between your shoulder blades, while the hand on your jaw finds its way to the back of your head. It feels like an out of body experience to finally kiss Sylus, to feel his soft lips you've been eyeing for so long, to bury your fingers in his silver hair, to taste mint and red wine on his tongue, to feel the pulse on his neck under your hand. Your clothed pussy was fluttering, desperate for some attention, so you started moving your hips again, grinding against him, drawing out a low groan from the man.

"If you keep doing that I can't hold back any longer." He warns in a low voice against your lips.

You take his 'warning' seriously and suddenly sit up, kneeling above his lap once again. A flash of confusion (or disappointment) on Sylus' face gets quickly overwritten with surprise, followed by a cocky grin as your hands go to his belt.

He puts his hands over yours, making you look back at his eyes that softened a little. "Are you sure?"

You nod and try to shift your attention back to his belt, but he grabs your chin, his face a breath away from yours. "I need you to use your words, kitten."

You swallow thickly, the blood rushing under your cheeks and ears "Yes, I can't wait anymore."

Sylus gives you one more breathtaking kiss before he opens his belt and unzips his pants, hissing in relief as his hard cock is freed from his underwear. Your eyes widen as they stare at the sheer size of it, your pussy fluttering in anticipation.

You move the bottoms of your outfit to the side, making him groan as he catches the sight of your naked pussy lips, "Fuck, you had nothing underneath this whole time? You'll be the death of me."

Your chuckle is replaced by a soft whimper as he grabs his cock by the base and guides you by grabbing your hip, the tip sliding along your wet folds, grazing your clit. It slides right against your entrance, dipping in and out of your hole, each time a little deeper, before the tip is fully inside and you're already seeing stars. Now both his hands are on your hips, slowly guiding you down as he watches your face intently, a single drop of sweat sliding down his temple.

"You can take it, pretty girl." He chokes back a groan as your walls squeeze around him as he enters you deeper. It takes him every last bit of restraint not to thrust up into you and fuck you senseless.

He rubs soothing circles on your bud, making your legs twitch, the stretch of his dick already stimulating enough to send you over the edge. With a few shallow pumps, he fully enters you.

"That's it, you're doing so good." Pulling you into a tight embrace, his lips find yours, teeth nipping and tongue licking your bottom lip before he trails over your jaw to the sensitive skin of your neck. Holding onto his broad shoulders and nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, you slowly start moving your hips, sweat starting to drip from your back and your chest. He takes off your top, leaving you with only your bottom and the heels on your feet, while he's still fully clothed as you ride him. His tongue drags over between your breasts, drinking up your sweat, his lips then latching onto your pebbled nipple while his fingers play with the other one.

Your sensitive swollen clit keeps rubbing against his pelvis, as you roll your hips on his length.

Sylus hisses against your breast, "You're squeezing me so tight." He grabs you by the back of your neck, his face now close to yours. With his other hand squeezing your butt cheek, his hips thrust up, meeting your pace. "You gonna cum, darling?"

You can only mewl and nod in response. He notices your leg muscles shaking and hips staggering in their movement.

"Let me take over." He knows you're getting tired, but too lost in pleasure and probably too proud to admit it. He slides further down in his seat, letting your body rest completely on top of him. He holds onto your ass in a bruising grip, holding your hips in place as he starts vigorously thrusting up, the blunt tip hitting all the right places and the base and pelvis hitting your clit over and over until you're a panting moaning mess on top of him. His teeth latch onto the flesh between your neck and shoulder as your intoxicating smell, your voice, and pulsing cunt bring him closer to cumming too.

Just when you're about to come down from your high, Sylus suddenly sits up and throws a pillow from the sofa onto the floor.

"Hold onto me." He instructs and you do as you're told, wrapping your arms and legs around him, allowing him to, as gently as possible, lay you onto the floor with the pillow under your head.

He adjusts himself between your legs and continues the relentless pounding. The view on top of you makes your pussy flutter again - strands of his silver hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, lust dazed eyes fixed on you, pupils dilated you can barely see the ruby red irises, wide shoulders and his whole fucking hot face and body you could stare at forever. But you need to feel his weight on your body.

As if reading your mind, he lies down completely on top of you, using one elbow for support while the other arm sneaks behind you and grabs your butt. "I'm so fucking close." He grunts against your lips, but you're too lost in pleasure to say anything back, only moaning and burying your face in his shoulder as your walls clench around his throbbing dick, the pressure of another orgasm building up.

The hand moves to grab your face, thumb tracing over your cheekbone, the gentle touch contrasting with his ruthless hips, "Let me see you, darling." His voice is both soft and strained.

You're the first one to break the eye contact as another orgasm crashes through you. Sylus' orgasm comes only seconds later, enhancing the intensity as his twitching cock spurts hot liquid inside your pussy.

With the last lazy rolling of his hips, you come down from your own highs, foreheads pressed together as both of you catch your breath. He gives you a soft kiss on the lips, and then just gazes at you with a tenderness you haven't seen before. His fingertips trace over the features of your face. "I hope you can spend the night here."

Of course, you accept the offer. And of course, you didn't sleep at all that night.

[darylssunshine]

Golden

genre: fluff

word count: 761

a/n: yes ik this isn't that long but I just needed to express how beautiful Daryl is

You squinted, the harsh light of the outside world flooding your bedroom and into your sleep-addled eyes. Your hand instinctively was brought up to your face to shield it from the onslaught of light, ducking your head deeper into the pillow below you. You took a view moments before slowly blinking them back open and the world around you gradually became less blurry. The window that was just assaulting you seconds before, the soft blanket that kept you warm, and… your husband.

You genuinely forget that he sleeps next to you sometimes, with how much he refuses to sleep or goes on supply runs that take multiple days. When he does actually take the time to rest, you selfishly soak in the sight.

He looked so peaceful, something that harshly juxtaposed his usual stressed demeanor. Golden rays of sunlight from the window on your side of the bed danced across his face, giving him an almost holy glow. One arm was tucked beneath his pillow as a head rest, while the other was loosely draped around your waist, holding the two of you in an instinctual embrace. Soft breaths that were bordering on deep snores could be heard emanating from his parted lips, and you responded with a faint smile. You honestly couldn't believe that a man as perfect as him was sleeping beside you. You had to pinch yourself sometimes. 

You sighed, knowing that you and Daryl couldn't cuddle in bed for the rest of eternity. There was work to be done. Tenderly, you gave him a kiss on the tip of his nose and moved a stray hair out of his face, lightly rubbing the side of his head with your thumb. You swore Daryl very faintly smiled at this in his sleep. Untucking yourself from the covers, you gently swung your legs to the side of the bed, stood up, and stretched. 

-

The smell of bacon filled the kitchen, along with the consistent sizzling of the meat on the frying pan. You gripped the handle of the pan and flipped on over with tongs. Rick had been lucky enough to find several working coffee pots on a run a couple weeks ago, so you were utilizing it to its fullest. It's bitter as all hell, but it's better than being dead all day. Your mug was steaming next to the stove top as you stretched your stiff neck, turning the heat off. You padded over to the corner of the kitchen to grab the bread and jam out of one of the cabinets, when you heard soft footsteps exiting the bedroom. You didn't turn around, but you smiled to yourself.

Two firm, bare arms wrapped around your torso and you felt a weight on your shoulder. You placed the bread and jam on the counter below and rested your arms on the forearms that were now caging you in an embrace.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

He softly grunted in response, knowing that his mouth was right next to your ear.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

Your heart skipped a beat. His voice was so deep and rumbly in the morning. This man will never know how much he flusters you on a daily basis. 

You snickered and turned around in his hold, immediately placing a hand on his cheek, slowly rubbing your thumb across his stubble. He had remained shirtless, only having enough energy to pull on a pair of nearby sweatpants. Your bright eyes met his equally bright blue irises, though they were half-lidded, still full of sleep. 

“Dar, have I told you how pretty you are when you’re just waking up?”

His eyes were already closed again, leaning into your touch. “Ya have. Still don’t believe ya.”

“Guess I’ll just have to make you believe, then.”

You pulled him into a lazy kiss, your hands now on both sides of his face. It wasn’t hungry, nor longing, it was a reminder that you were his, every second of every day, no matter what state he was in.

Daryl punctuated the slow kiss by releasing the hold he had on your waist to grip the back of your thighs and cradle your back. Suddenly, he effortlessly lifted you into the bridal position, gripping you in place with his strong hands. “Dar, what’re you doing??” You said in between a fit of giggles. 

He placed a kiss on the top of your head. “Yer comin’ back ta bed. Wanna hold ya.”

You didn’t protest in the slightest, sighing contently while nuzzling your head into your husband’s chest, the bacon and the coffee forgotten.  

[angellissy]

Just a taste

Rupert Campbell Black x Taggie O'Hara.

In which an overworked, overlooked, underestimated, and exhausted Taggie finally gets taken care of <3 This is very short and might be shit but I feel like I need to be taken care of so this is what I wrote! It has been so long since I have written and so I am not really sure what I am doing right now. I hope it isn't horrible. I am open to taking requests if you have any :)

There was something wet on her face. 

Taggies eyes fluttered open and stared right into the gentle brown eyes of Rupert’s black lab. At seeing her finally awake the dog continued its harassing of Taggie’s face and only stopped when she gave in and started scratching it behind its ears. 

“Needy aren’t you?” Taggie said to the black lab, who just wagged her tail and tilted her head quizzically at Taggies word. Shaking her head with a laugh Taggie got up, pulled on one of Rupert's button-ups, and started walking down the stairs, the dog following dutifully. She heard him before she saw him, the sound of him humming to the tones of lady in red and moving around in the kitchen. The kitchen itself smelled divine and Taggie was quite sure she could smell pancakes on the stove. As she rounded the corner into the kitchen she stopped short and could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as she took in the man in the kitchen. Rupert was standing with his back to her, his shirtless back, and she barely felt ashamed as she studied the way his muscles rippled as he lifted a pan of the stove. He looked glorious, his tan skin almost glowing in the morning light sneaking in through the windows. He was divine, and Taggie was sure that she was drooling. Gods, she would never get used to the sight of him. She was not sure she ever wanted to get used to anything that regarded him. She liked the surprise and the adventure that was Rupert Campbell Black. 

She must have made a sound because his head whipped back “Bloody hell darling, you scared me” He drew a long breath, and Taggie wasn’t sure if it was because of the scare or if it was because of the way his eyes raked over her body. His eyes glittered and his lips curved upwards in a grin, which made him look devastatingly handsome “Well you look ravishing angel, If I hadn’t just spent the last hour making you breakfast I might have considered changing the menu”. Taggies cheeks warmed again, both at the innuendo and the fact that he had made her breakfast. “You could have woken me, I could have helped you with breakfast,” She said whilst looking over at the countertop where he had created a buffet of pancakes, bacon, eggs, fruit, and, was that..? “You made jam roly-polys?” The surprised tone of her voice made him look at them a bit sheepishly “At the very least I tried, seemed fair to try and repay all the times you brought me food and cakes” He did not explicitly say it but what he meant was that he wanted to take care of her for once because the gods knew that she deserved it. 

She grabbed one, took a bite, and made a bit of a surprised sound when it just melted on her tongue, it was really good. “You wound me, Agatha,” He said in a playful tone as he took in the surprise on her face, but when she narrowed her eyes at him for using her full name Rupert simply held up his hands in surrender. He walked closer and took her face in his hands, leaned down, and pressed his lips against hers. He pulled away a little too soon for her liking making Taggie open her eyes to look at him. He was wearing that devilish smirk of his again, the one that made her heart thunder in her chest so loudly that she sometimes had to press her hand against it just to make sure that it wouldn’t actually jump out of her chest. 

“I just wanted a taste, and I agree it was absolutely divine” He said winking at her. 

What a wonderful thing it was to be adored and cared for. Taggie had waited and longed for this a long time. It was better than anything she had ever hoped for. This was the magnificent reality of finding a soul that cared for yours with tender hands, and Rupert Campbell Black had really good hands. 

[saintescuderia]

ANTINAL // CS55

(a pancakes oneshot!)

AKA - carlos tries the local food in jeddah without you - and suffers as a result

series masterlist here :)

the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: this was written as a coping mechanism for the fact that carlos is sick and might not make jeddah

“Please tell me what you were thinking.” 

You walked into the room to see the Spanish driver sat on the bed, rubbing his eyes from the nap you had just woken up him from. Good. You had seen his Instagram story and the bragging of the 50km bike ride around Jeddah. With the Ferrari contract coming to an end, Onoro was working overtime. Carlos’ schedule was now jam packed with all these PR moments, both official in having meetings and dinners, and unofficial and his Instagram was now becoming his CV. 

Case in point, let me show off my athleticism. 

“I wanted to go for a bike ride.” Carlos said simply. His ran a hand through his bed hair, wild from his nap, and then his eye adjusted to you. “Don’t dump your bag there.”

“Then don’t keep your shoes here.” You retorted as, of course, his shoes were right by the door. You two had often argued about it, him haphazardly taking them off as he walked into the hotel and you tripping over them and then nagging him about it as you kicked them to the side. As now, you nagged at him and kicked the white sneakers out of your path. 

However, in doing so, you stopped and bent down to pick up the shoes. You looked at him and then back at the shoe with the Nike swish. A surprised smile found its way on your face, distracting you from the issue at hand. 

“You went out in dunks?” 

“You bought them for me to wear.” He said as if it were obvious. “Girlfriend affect.” He waved a dismissive hand in the air and you couldn’t help but smile at how cute that was. For a second, the whole thing disarmed you and made your forget why you had rushed to the hotel room in a huff. 

Then Carlos reached for some pills on his bedside table and it all came rushing back. 

It wasn’t like you disagreed with all the extra stuff Onoro had his cousin do. Carlos needed to start working now if he wanted to find another seat for next year. You all agreed to it. What you didn’t agree to was Carlos taking stupid risks with his training and doing stuff like a 50km bike ride in Saudi Arabian weather without you. The heat stroke alone was enough to knock him out and prevent him from actually racing that weekend. 

Case in point, right now. 

“Alright kids I gotta get to work, if I don’t input those numbers… doesn’t make much of difference.”

You snorted, immediately tuning into the iconic voice of one Chandler Bing. You look to where the TV was playing one of the earlier season of FRIENDS, the cast looking especially younger. You looked back at Carlos and frowned, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“What? You always say I should watch it.” He said. 

It wasn’t that Carlos was watching FRIENDS. It was the fact that he was in bed watching FRIENDS. If there ever was someone more pedantic about sleep hygiene, it was him. If he had just woken up from a nap, it wasn’t planned. Suddenly, your worry about his wellbeing overtook your anger. 

“How are you feeling?” You asked as you came to sit on the edge of the bed he was still reclined in. You brought a hand to his forehead and noted his temperature. Nothing alarming. Though, he was shirtless and the AC was on. You also noted the green gel of aloe vera he had likely stolen from your own suitcase. At least he was taking care of himself. 

“Better now that you’re here.” He said and reached up to bring the hand that was feeling his forehead to bring it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to your fingers. You rolled your eyes but still couldn’t help but smile. 

“You’re not going to get out of this.”

“Out of what?”

“Carlos, I saw your story.” You said. 

“One second mi amor.” Carlos flipped the bed sheets back and then climbed out of bed. He rushed to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. You stared at him confusedly as suddenly there was music playing from inside the bathroom. You were really at a loss with this one. Especially since you recognised the song and wondered since when your boyfriend willingly listened to Metro Boomin? 

Carlos was particular about his bathroom time and if he was playing music, you could only assume he wasn’t in there just to take a piss. Evidently he was going to be in there for a while and that meant you would have to occupy yourself until then. 

There was a coffee machine at the small kitchenette that was calling your name. You had woken up earlier than usual to help Oscar through some drills before the race weekend and the need for caffeine was all too real. As you popped the pod into the Nespresso machine, you realised the spread of half-eaten food Carlos had likely ordered - and dumped into the kitchen sink. 

You knew his diet well since you had been the one to essentially create it. It had been a painstaking process to carefully craft a regime that allowed Carlos to hit his protein goals - and indulge in his love for food. Because man, did Carlos love food. He had pretty much wept at the sight of you poached chicken breast all those many months ago. Since the relationship between the two of you had shifted on from the strictly business of a trainer-driver relationship to becoming a fully fledged romantic couple, Carlos had taken you out to countless restaurants. He had a list in his Notes app of all his favourite restaurants, bars and cafes all around the world and had decided to take you to every one come a Grand Prix weekend.  

You thought it was stupid since he needed to work but one could never be mad at those eyes. It was how he managed to get you to let him eat all that he did. 

So to see that Carlos Sainz, the Spanish foodie Carlos Sainz, had ordered a lunch of plain fruits and plain toast— you were immediately confused. Suspicious even. Carlos eating plain toast was… unfathomable. 

You made your coffee and opted to just wait until Carlos could explain his choice of breakfast. The way you saw it was that he was restricting himself with such low calorie foods in the hope of shedding weight and hopefully then bettering his race. 

The coffee had finished pouring and you huffed as you picked up the cup and went to sit on the bed. 

“I can’t stop smiling.”

“I can see that. It’s like you slept with a hanger in your mouth.”

Sitting on the bed, you blew on your coffee and tried to focus on Rachel and Monica on the TV - and not how Carlos was currently his own worse enemy. It was no use to tell him off now. Reyes had told you how the Junior was like the Senior in the toilet being a sacred space. You don’t bother Carlos on the toilet. 

You had done that once and it was the only time Carlos had ever snapped at you. 

Something buzzed in your pocket. It was likely Oscar asking about lunch and so you went to set the coffee on the bedside table to free up your hands and respond - when you saw it. 

You recognised the Ferrari water bottle with the personalised 55 decoration. 

You also recognised the Antinal box of pills that were half opened beside it. 

Oh. 

Suddenly all the puzzle pieces clicked into place. The plain foods, the lack of forewarning as he jumped to the toilet, the impromptu nap. Carlos wasn’t unfit for Jeddah because he was overworking himself, Carlos was unfit for Jeddah because he had diarrhoea.  

Looking down at the familiar bottle of pills, your only question now was how in the fuck Carlos knew to take it. Sure, Antinal would’ve been your go to if you were hit with gastro or food poisoning or whatever it was that was now plaguing your boyfriend. Your auntie used to have a hoarded stock of the medication in her cupboard above the microwave. You swore that the stuff was magic. It was better than any of the medication you had found in the US or UK. Though, how Carlos had managed to get hold of Egyptian diarrhoea medication was beyond you. 

You looked back at the white dunks by the door and remembered how while you had been training with your brother, your boyfriend had been doing some PR for Saudi Arabia and touring the local streets. 

The door finally opened and out came Carlos, patting his stomach. You said nothing as he came to sit on the bed beside you, not questioning how you took his side. He wordlessly climbed back under the covers and you felt all the anger, all the worry wash out of you. All you felt now was genuine fondness for the sick boy beside you. 

“You tried the local food without me.”

It was a statement but Carlos still curled up beside you and mumbled an affirmative “Yes.” to your side. Your arm came up to wrap around him and start playing with his hair. 

“How the fuck did you find Antinal?”

“I asked Oscar.” 

“Oh, habibi.” You couldn’t help but croon as you had to imagine Carlos going to your brother, someone he admittedly didn’t get along with all too well and asking for help because he had stomach problems. Still, you knew Oscar wouldn’t have said anything or made jokes. No matter his feelings towards Carlos, Oscar wasn't like that. Besides, you had taught the young driver enough.

For example, to always have gastro medication. No matter what. 

Carlos didn’t saying anything and you didn’t feel the need to add anything. Instead, you slowly got up from sitting on top of the covers and came to slide yourself underneath them. You brought your arm back around Carlos and resumed your comforting massage as he rested beside you, eyes closed. You, however, were sipping on your coffee, half your attention on the 90s sitcom currently playing - “I can’t believe you didn’t know it was a line!” - and the blue and grey text bubbles between you and the driver you considered your little brother.

Oscar was now asking if dinner was an option since lunch was evidently now forgone that Carlos was asleep next to you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Or so you thought was asleep. You blinked, looking down at the boyfriend you thought had drifted off again. 

“For what?” You said, dropping your phone and sliding down to bring your face to his. You lightly traced his face and saw the way his frown between his brows eased, his lips lifted slightly. 

“Ricciardo made a joke about my contract in front of Lewis. It’s why I went out for that bike ride and posted about it.” He admitted. You bit back any of the words that immediately came to mind and how you wanted to rip into the stupidity of letting someone like Daniel Ricciardo getting to him. Sure, there was some clear bad blood but you really had hoped Carlos wouldn’t have let it get to him. Danny was just a scorned ex after all.

“If anything, I should be mad that you went to explore restaurants without me." You said lightly. "What happened to us having one couple date a weekend?”

Carlos’ eyes blinked open at that as his smile grew. You felt warmth inside you bloom seeing that beautiful, beautiful smile of his. Your phone buzzed again and you turned over to pick it up and read the message from Oscar. You snorted. 

“What?” Carlos asked. 

“Oscar says he hopes you feel better.” 

“That’s nice of him.” Carlos said, sitting up slightly to reach over you and go for his water bottle. This made you sit up also and now you both had your backs to the headboard, sitting up in the bed. 

“I think he just wants you to race so he can get payback for Spa last year.” You said. Oscar’s next text thread confirmed this and you chuckled and went to pick up your coffee to take a sip. Carlos shook his head and went back to lay his head on the pillow. 

“When does this kick in?”

“The antinal?” You asked, grinning as you still couldn’t believe Carlos Sainz was using your Middle Eastern auntie’s magical cure for anything stomach related. “Maybe an hour after taking it, depending on how bad it is.” Carlos frowned and closed his eyes, shifting a lot as he tried to get comfortable back in the bed. Your grin fell slightly and you brought your hand back to his hair. 

“Sleep it off, habibi.”

“What are you going to do?” 

“Watch FRIENDS.” You said with a shrug. 

“I was supposed to watch it.”

“Not my fault.” You sassed back. “I’ll rewatch it with you again later. You just work on fixing your stomach and I’ll read through race strategies and debrief you later in case you can race.” You paused and took a sip of your coffee. “I also need to convince Lando to come to dinner.”

“Why?”

“Since you and I haven’t had dinner and I was supposed to be with Oscar for lunch but I’m here with you.” You explained. "He's wanting dinner plans."

“He saw you all of yesterday and this morning.” 

Carlos' complaints made you smile. “We’ll go out us four. You two can bond again.”

He only huffed. “When have we ever bonded?”

“When you got over yourself and asked him for antinal because you wouldn’t stop shitting?”

Carlos’ response was to reach his hand up and flick you on the nose. 

[submariini]

When Finland’s Käärijä took the stage at this year’s Eurovision, a star was instantly, explosively born. With an outrageous energy, infectious presence and that oh-so-catchy hook, the Vantaa-based rapper may not have won the contest but he certainly snatched the hearts of those in his home country and beyond. We ask Käärijä the million dollar question: what next?

[full article under the cut]

Last May, a peculiar frenzy engulfed Finland. Virtually all green foods – cucumbers, especially – were sold out from stores. Buildings across the land were bathed in vivid green lights. Social media brimmed with green-themed parties, while data obtained by Swedish fintech company Klarna showed a 570 per cent increase in the online sales of neon green shirts.

This phenomenon was all thanks to Käärijä, the rapper who represented Finland in the 2023 Eurovision Song Contest. His now-infamous, blazing green puff sleeve bolero – dreamt up by Finnish broadcasting company Yle’s costume design team and which he dons when performing the smash hit track ‘Cha Cha Cha’ – had taken on a life of its own, the lush hue uniting the entire nation amid the competition. “It was incredible to see it happen and so cool being part of it,” Käärijä says. “It wasn’t planned at all – it was the people who created the commotion. I’ll definitely never forget it.”

When we speak over Zoom, Käärijä, whose real name is Jere Pöyhönen, is lounging in his minimal apartment in Vantaa, a city just outside Helsinki. He appears on my screen shirtless, a chunky gold chain dangling on his neck. On his head sits a pastel turquoise cap adorned with little cat ears. As he gestures with his hands, I spot flashes of poison green nail varnish. Pöyhönen’s chosen attire, or lack thereof, is extremely fitting – he typically performs bare-chested (“It gets so hot during my gigs”) and his Instagram handle is @paidatonriehuja, or ‘shirtless rascal’.

Hot off a performance in western Finland, the 29-year-old is enjoying his first days off in a while. It’s been a sweltering summer of non-stop touring, with fans flocking to festivals and concerts nationwide to see his explosive live show. Things are not winding down either, with Käärijä heading off on his first-ever European tour this month. Some of these shows sold out in mere minutes, an indication of his immense international following. “It’s so exciting; I’m definitely jumping into a new territory with that tour,” Pöyhönen says. “But I don’t have any expectations – I’m just going to let everything happen organically rather than stressing about it.”

Although he created one of this year’s buzziest songs, the guy on my screen is humble and, save for his look, almost un assuming. I remark on the stark contrast to his fiery and flamboyant stage presence. “Through Käärijä, I get to channel all the craziness, quirkiness and hyperactivity I’ve had since I was a child,” Pöyhönen says, describing himself offstage as “just this ordinary dude”. Without delving into further details, he tells me that the name Käärijä (translating roughly to moneymaker) stems from a history with gambling. Despite the darkness of its origin, he notes that the moniker is to be taken with a grain of salt.

While it might seem like Käärijä exploded into the public consciousness from obscurity, Pöyhönen has a long journey in music behind him. Born in Helsinki but having spent most of his youth in Vantaa, he started dabbling in the medium at just three years old. Coming from a musical family (“My dad and big brother both play the guitar”), jamming sessions were commonplace in the Pöyhönen household, his instrument of choice being the drums. “I was playing with pots and spoons before I got a set of those plastic kids’ drums,” he says. “When we moved to a bigger house, we built a band room downstairs where me and my brother spent a lot of time practising.”

At that time, rap music hadn’t yet entered Pöyhönen’s life; he was strictly a self-described “metal guy”. His older brother had instilled in him a love for the genre, particularly metal icons Rammstein. Upon starting high school, his musical taste broadened and he began listening to Eminem and popular Finnish rap groups Fintelligens and JVG. “Me and my friends were filming our own music videos to old rap songs, learning the words by heart,” Pöyhönen says. “It [making rap music] pretty much started as this humour thing I did with my mates.”

Encouraged by his loved ones, Pöyhönen began writing his own songs, still playing it for laughs. Turned out he had a knack for it. “Since I was little, I’ve been an avid storyteller – my imagination ran a little wilder than the rest of the kids’ at my school,” he says. “So when I started making music, I didn’t even need inspiration; I was able to whip up the lyrics from my head.”

But then, at 15, an unexpected turning point came by way of a severe sudden illness. Rushed to the hospital with ulcerative colitis, a chronic inflammatory bowel disease, Pöyhönen underwent emergency surgery to remove his colon. Had he not been treated immediately, the complications could have been fatal. “I was writing songs in the hospital – music became a source of strength for me,” he says. “I decided that if I make it through this, I’m going to give my all to music and be serious about it.”

After over a decade of hard work and countless hours in the studio, Käärijä released his first album, Fantastista (Fantastic), in 2020, but it would take three years for him to become a household name in Finland. After snapping up the top prize in Uuden Musiikin Kilpailu (the Finnish contest for new music) with his party anthem ‘Cha Cha Cha’, a song dedicated to a hedonistic night out fusing rap, electronic music and metal, he secured the coveted spot as his country’s entrant for the 2023 Eurovision, held in Liverpool. One of Pöyhönen’s craziest dreams had come true.

For Pöyhönen, Eurovision was “an amazing but immensely tough experience”. The event’s intense schedule and the little time carved out for practising surprised the artist. There was no room for errors or retakes once it was time for rehearsals. “They didn’t give much mercy,” he says. On the bright side, the long days filled with “lots of press conferences and waiting around” gave Pöyhönen a chance to get to know the other artists. “The group we had there was wonderful – there wasn’t a competitive atmosphere at all,” he says. One of the contestants he became especially close with was Sweden’s Loreen, with whom he exchanged numbers and promised to “meet up and talk about everything else but music”.

By the time the grand finale came, Käärijä’s explosive performance and infectious song had made him one of the favourites to win. Ultimately he came second, while Loreen nabbed first place. How did Pöyhönen handle the letdown? “It was a huge disappointment, but in the end, the feeling didn’t last long,” he says. “When I thought about how far I’d gotten, the incredible journey it was and all the new friends I made, I realised that these things are far more meaningful than winning.” Plus, he still achieved something major: ‘Cha Cha Cha’ made history as the first ever Finnish song to reach Spotify’s global most-listened charts. The track’s reach proved to Pöyhönen that language doesn’t matter; it’s all about creating a singular, infectious sound: “The mouth is just as much of an instrument as the piano or the guitar is,” he says.

Having made history, I ask Pöyhönen if he felt any pressure after the Eurovision bubble had burst. “Of course there are the thoughts of ‘what now?’ and ‘is this going to be it, will anyone be interested anymore next year?’ – I’m aware that the hype won’t last forever,” he says. “But I’m onto creating the next thing, trying not to feel any pressure for future releases. I haven’t done that before, so why would I do that now?”

Pöyhönen hints at a new album dropping sometime next year, but in the meantime, he’s enjoying the attention – including his Vogue Scandinavia debut. Shot at the extraordinary home of the late interior architect Antti Nurmesniemi and his wife, textile artist Vuokko Nurmesniemi, we find the space where Pöyhönen and Käärijä meet, the quiet confidence mingling with that more-is-more persona.

And while Käärijä might develop as a character (“I want to show that he’s more than just a bolero chap”), he’s adamant that he will stay true to his music and keep singing in Finnish, despite the sudden international attention. “In the end, I’m doing this for myself,” he says. “Also, why change something that works?”

Photographer: Karoliina Bärlund Stylist: Sanna Silander Talent: Käärijä Hair Stylist and Makeup Artist: Neea Kuurne Photographer Assistant: Milja Laakso Stylist Assistant: Nelli Korhonen

[cowgurrrl]

Dancing Barefoot

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: this was slightly self-indulgent because Patti Smith is my personal god also baby Miller should be arriving in the next fic but this idea was stuck in my head and I HAD to write it

Summary: “I’ll never finish falling in love with you.” - Nicole Williams, Collared aka Joel helps you and the baby sleep ~800 words

Warnings: a little bittersweet, talks of Janey girl and Sarah bear, brief brief brief mention of a strained parent/child relationship, pregnancy, tooth rotting fluff

The moonlight streams from the windows, and the birds chirp sleepily outside. Ellie is safe in her bed, and Joel is lying on his right side beside you, occasionally mumbling something you never quite catch. You should be asleep. The baby should be asleep; instead, they're using you as their punching bag. You've been tossing and turning for thirty minutes, making the baby toss and turn just as much. You sigh and rub your face like it will be enough to soothe you and the baby to sleep.

"Can't sleep?" Joel mumbles, and you look at his back. You didn't even know he was awake, but you nod at the ceiling. 

"Your kid is doing laps." 

"Why is it my kid when he's misbehaving?" He asks as he turns to face you. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are heavy with sleep, but his hand still manages to find your bump in the dark. "Let your mama sleep." He says, poking at your stomach. 

"I don't think poking our baby in the face is going to get them to sleep," you say, and he hums, half-asleep. You run your fingers through his curls and smile when he cuddles closer to you. "I think they want a song." 

"The baby wants a song, or you want a song?"

"Both." You say. You catch the pull of his lips in the moonlight before he kisses your temple. He sighs as he gets out of bed and grabs his guitar from the corner. He perches on the edge of your bed shirtless, his silver scars on display without shame, and you remember each story associated with them— ghosts of the people you were before baby bumps and shared last names.  

"What d'you want to hear?" He asks, strumming a few times to check the tuning.

"Do you know any Patti Smith?" You ask, and he turns to give you a look. "What? I had a life before you." He chuckles, and you lean against your headboard, hands resting on your swollen belly. He looks at the frets like they're an equation for a few slow moments before the familiar ballad fills the space. You smile as he quietly sings the words, mouthing them as he goes. 

Little Miller seems to realize their dad is singing because you feel them move in time with the strums. If this kid loves music already, we're going to need more records, you think. You imagine little hands reaching for the guitar as Ellie or Joel play, adding their own dissonant sound to the song previously being played. Maybe you could hire someone in town to make tiny instruments for them to play with once they're big enough. The idea of a little jam circle with Ellie, Joel, and the baby makes your heart sing. As the song ends, Joel looks at you expectantly, his dark brown eyes meeting yours. The tiny heartbeat under your ribs has settled, only occasionally kicking to let you know they're still alive.

"Like clockwork," you say, and he smiles, gently placing the guitar back in its corner. "As judgy as you were with my request, you pulled that out pretty fast."

"I had a life before you," he echoes, and you roll your eyes as he slides back into bed with you. "Sarah didn't like most of the music I played in the truck, but she liked Patti."

"Smart girl." 

"What music did Jane like?" He asks, and the way he says her name makes you want to cry. He says it as if it were holy and sacred because it always will be to you. You smile and cuddle close to him. His arms envelop you in warmth, and his smell surrounds you, and you feel safe. 

"She was an old soul. She liked ABBA, Fleetwood Mac, and Janis Joplin. I'm convinced we played the Pearl album more than any other person on the planet," you say, kissing his shoulder. "Thank you for always asking about her."

"I like hearing about her," he says as if he were pointing out constellations— easy and undeniable. Her dad didn't even want to hear about her, and now this man who had never met her asks about her because you loved her. Because you still love her, and he loves you. This time, you do cry. You blame it on pregnancy hormones and a lack of sleep, but Joel knows it's something more. He kisses your tears away and rubs soothing circles into your back. "She'll always have a place in our home, d'you hear me?" He asks softly, and you nod. 

You fall asleep in his arms that night and almost every night, but this time you dream of little feet standing on your kitchen table, dancing along to Janis Joplin's crooning. You dream of teasing Jane's hair to match Stevie Nicks’ on the cover of her Bella Donna album. You dream of the day she came home, suddenly detesting ballet and wanting to take drum lessons instead. Something tells you she left some of her rockstar energy with you, and the new baby is taking it all in— pieces of her left in so much more than just your memory now. 

🍓

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Tag list: @evyiione @nyotamalfoy @abbyhaslongshorts

[thisismyfirstvideodaily]

into a room where its shirtless jam in the afternoon

[champignone]

this is my first video on instagram, im not wearing a shirt its a shirtless jam oh yeahhhh... oo!

[luvhughes43]

skin to skin with jamie & baby omg i’m melting

the absolute cutest!🥹🥹 he has definitely done his research and has read a ton of baby books in preparation for baby lila! he reads somewhere that its recommended for parents who dont do the feeding to do skin to skin for 10-15 minutes a day so he gets a routine down of holding his girl either in the morning or before getting her ready for bed for the night.

-

tears well up in your boyfriends eyes as his baby girl is placed against his bare chest by a nurse. lila was under an hour old, and jamie was still in slight shock that he was a father. that he was holding his baby in his arms. it was a truly surreal experience.

his face scrunches up, tears slowly rolling down his cheeks as he sniffles. jamie had read enough baby books to know that skin to skin is important for bonding, but holding his baby girl like that for the first time filled him with so much love. he felt so incredibly lucky to have such a wonderful girlfriend and baby.

the nurse leaves quietly after making sure youre feeling good and that you, jamie, and the baby were finally settled.

"hey lila-bell" jamie coos softly at his baby. you watch tiredly from the hospital bed, utterly drained from labour and everything that went along with it.

"you did so good baby," jamie redirects his attention to you. he had complimented you all throughout your labour, making sure you knew that he was so proud of you and everything you did.

"thank you," you quietly reply as jamie returns his attention to your baby. you watch with adoration as jamie wipes his tears away with his shoulder, mindful of not disturbing the baby too much.

"your beautiful jams," you whisper, eyes fluttering closed with exhaustion. "you and lila"

jamie hums in response, hoping for you to get some rest before visitors start showing up to meet little lila for the first time. both of your parents were flying in and should be at the hospital in a matter of hours.

"i love you so much," jamie whispers to you, not wanting to disturb the newfound peace that settled in the room. "try and get some rest" jamie speaks softly and your eyes immediately close.

you were lulled off to sleep by your boyfriends soft words to your babygirl and a vision of him shirtless cuddling with your daughter.

[turbosoggy]

this is tords first video on instagram. he's not wearing a shirt, its a shirtless jam ahhhhh

[zayray030]

Basketball club hcs?

Also after the new stitch event I want to see more azul, floyd, and ace so any headcanons for that trio?

(Platonic or not platonic)

BASKETBALL TRIO!!!!

After practice they all like to go to Sam's shop and but themselves a little sweet treat

Floyd likes to randomly 'check' and 'fic' Ace's pose and position

Jamil likes to say that he's the normal one of the club but is the first to entertain Floyd's ideas to mess around during practice

Ace once made those honey soaked lemons for after practice and kept trying to say he bought them instead but Jamil and Floyd refused to believe him and teased him about being so cute

Anytime they go against another school Ace does a whole ritual in the hopes that Jamil and Floyd are nice to the players. It never works

Sometimes they go to the beach and practice passing there. It's mostly an excuse for Ace to see Jamil and Floyd shirtless

Ace once missed practice due to a high fever and the day he returned to practice was the most focused practice session ever. The next one was its normal chaotic self and he couldn't help but feel happier

Jam and Floyd once caught Ace practicing by himself and have made a conscious effort to explain things to him without him catching on

I'm actually curious in the FloAzuAce dynamic now lmao

Floyd and Azul regularly try and rope Ace into servitude but consistently fail

Ace once died his fringe blue in an effort to match his boyfriends and he got teased mercilessly. Little did he know it was because they just adored his hair and enjoyed how pretty it was to look at

Floyd was the first to clock on that Ace was essentially describing a sugar daddy when he talked about Azul

When the two first met Anippola they were shocked by how calm he was. And then even more shocked when he pulled a knife on them and threatened to fillet them

[saturnplaza]

This is my first video on instagram I'm not wearing a shirt its a shirtless jam iefsdvcxsdewfiudscx\gseidvxcbvdsx I HATE BRENDON URIE