#and i know its short for robert

[iamunabletothinkofablogname]

ooh wait [tags]

[light-wrath-paradise]

If you enjoyed Nosferatu (2024) you might want to watch the French horror social commentary fantasy drama Le Vourdalak. It also has a puppet.

You will thank me later and if you can't find it I'm more than willing to provide, god bless.

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

pokemon partner headcanons for as much of the nfb cast as i can justify giving pokemon to. loosely inspired by this post by @chrswlls. and by 'inspired' i mean i was thinking abt a pokemon crossover in my own time and then i saw the post and then i said "oh well now i have to make my own post about it"

[MILD SPOILERS FOR DAY 296 AND BEYOND]

JEREMY has a male zigzagoon named Scout. Despite being his partner for a long time, Scout's never been much of a battler, so he's never evolved. His extra inquisitive nature and eye for sleuthing has made him the perfect partner for a flourishing news anchor, and Jeremy doubts he would have ever uncovered the Hamilton-Mann scandal if it wasn't for the help of his pokemon partner. Generally, he has a rather lax demeanor when he isn't snooping around for secrets, and tends to be as scruffy and personable as his trainer is.

JENNY has a female minccino named Gingersnap- or just Ginger for short. She first adopted her to have some company in her empty home after the death of her late partner. She was supposed to be a pokemon exclusively for home, but it turns out she's just as helpful at home as she is at Channel 1. Ginger is always astute, keeping an eye out for anything (or anyone) in need of tidying in between ad breaks and cutaways. She has a very sweet temperament, though normally won't leave her perch on Jenny's shoulder.

MEGAN has a female sneasel named Opal, who she took in a while after she gained notoriety as Channel 1's culture correspondent. If she's being honest, a part of her thought it would help bolster her popularity- maybe increase her chance at rising through the ranks of her career… Jeremy and Scout always made quite a pair, after all… Perhaps there was a method somewhere in there she could exploit. She doesn't really know if it worked or not, but she ended up growing quite attached to the sly little devil as time went on. It's unclear who's personality rubbed off on the other's first, but Opal acts quite like her trainer, able to switch from professional and demure to dangerously sharp at a moment's notice.

PATRICK has a male watchog he never gave a name to. Much like Scout is to Jeremy, Watchog is an astute observer that greatly helps Patrick out when he's on the field- be it during a Sportsboard game, or a more serious news related outing. The two of them end up bickering quite a bit, but when they really hone in on what they're focusing on, they can get some pretty significant work done. Watchog did his fair share of sleuthing on the Hamilton-Mann case as well- although Patrick tends to take the majority of the credit for it.

FRANCIS has a bidoof named Flapjack. Or, at least, he was named Flapjack... But after she was forced to assimilate Patrick's position after his disappearance, her pokemon partner had to do the same in Watchog's sudden absence. After a while, the two of them fall into the swing of things, but Flapjack was never really meant to be a work pokemon, let alone for the news of all things... He never really grows out of his sense of camera shyness the same way Patrick inevitably does.

ROBYN has a male midday lycanroc named Cadburry- or just Caddy, for short. Technically, he was the family dog, but out of all of her siblings, Caddy had the closest bond with her. He was her partner ever since he was a little rockruff- helping her to sniff out stories good enough to earn her position at the Swinstead Middle School Enquirer. He doesn't do as much sniffing now that he's older, but he's a great conversation starter, and a big help in luring in potential bystanders for public opinion interviews.

BOSEMAN has a female mabosstiff named Brutus. He didn't check to see what her gender was before he named her, and by the time he figured it out she wouldn't respond to anything else. She's a scruffy family pokemon he doesn't often bring with him to work. He needed something that wouldn't be too dangerous to leave at home- and especially something that wouldn't trample his daughter when he wasn't looking... She never hurt a hair on Petunia's head, though. The two of them are practically inseparable.

JULIA has a female bewear named Sherbert. They've known each other since Julia was a little girl, although she didn't evolve until a little while after she became Prime Minister. If you were to ask her, she would claim that a bewear is a perfect way to represent Advance's values; loving like a mother, powerful like a bear. For the most part, Sherbert upholds those values, and is rather docile and well behaved in public... Although those who don't trust Advance question whether or not there's any darker potential to owning such a powerful pokemon.

PETER currently has a male timburr named Chipper. He took him on a little after he started Just the Job, and the charismatic creature quickly became a mainstay on the show. He wasn't quite as vocal as Chizzel was, though, it was rather obvious he was more popular than him. He was always handy with a tool, a drink, or a bark of caution when sensitive equipment was getting too close to the edge of the table... And he always put Peter's tools in the exact spots he liked them best in.

... Peter used to have a different pokemon, though. A gorgeous mudsdale named Axel- raised it from a humble mudbray when he was younger. When he went to war, it came with him. Someway or another, it didn't survive the slaughter in Konislava... Peter doesn't like to talk about what exactly happened on that expedition- let alone the specifics regarding Axel. Some people think the toxic gas did him in. Others assumed he was simply shot amidst the chaos. Sometimes, rumors go around that he and Ivan ate the pokemon to escape starvation in that abandoned cellar. He really doesn't take kindly to those sorts of rumors...

ALAN has a natu named Pandora- though he doesn't have enough knowledge about birds to know whether its male or female. Generally, he has an extreme distrust of any and all psychic pokemon ("they're a psionic instrument wielded by the government to invade our minds"). Pandora, however, is his singular exception to this rule... How is he supposed to protect his mind from psychic assaults without a psychic pokemon? It's a give and take.

During routes where Jeremy dies during the Heatwave broadcast, it stays a natu for its entire life. However, when encountering Jeremy post his initial escape from Betterment, the raw potential he has to alter the course of the future is enough to force it to evolve into a xatu. Jeremy doesn't know enough about pokemon to know what that means but he has a feeling its. bad.

DAVE 'had' a rotom that went by many names. "Bastard", mainly. Sometimes "Bugger Off" and "Cut That Out". And when I say 'had', I mean it just sort of started haunting the equipment in the broadcast room one day, and he never cared enough to catch the thing or shoo it away. It's a completely wild rotom, just a particularly passive one (he likes to claim he 'tamed' it with pizza and crisps). This also means that after Alex takes his job, the rotom becomes 'theirs', in a strange sense. Although it definitely prefers Dave to Alex. Sometimes it'll cause havoc in the broadcast room if it thinks they aren't doing a good enough job editing- swapping cameras on its own accord and so on.

[bullet-prooflove]

Fifty Shades of Robby: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @dizzybee03 @cosmic-psychickitty @puredicks @queenslandlover-93

Companion piece to:

Lipstick (NSFW) - It's love at first blow job for Dr Robby.

Crisis - Robby has a bad day.

ASMR For The Soul - Robby doesn't sleep when you're not around.

Bunny - Robby discovers you've been keeping secrets.

Something To Complain About (NSFW) - You ignite the ire of Robby's neighbour with your bedroom noises.

Noise Cancelling - Robby discovers his neighbour keeps a spreadsheet of your antics.

Poolside - When Robby has a shitty day, he just wants to be whereever you are and usually that's the pool.

The Betting Pool - Robby discovers that his collegues have been taking bets on his relationship.

It’s Mateo that finds your Instagram. It’s under the username BaywatchBitch and the profile picture is you and Robby dressed in tiny red shorts and a blue top just like the ones from the 2017 movie. You’re both even wearing the same pair of aviators that Zac Efron is on the marketing posters.

It’s from a New Year’s Eve costume party the caption reads when he locates the picture on your feed. One you both attended with the Abbots.

“It’s like they both have this secret life that nobody knows about.” He tells Cassie as they flick through the pictures studying them with an intensity they usually reserve for their work.

Your Instagram feed it’s fifty shades of Robby.

Him sleeping on a couch they don’t recognise, his headphones on, a blanket draped over him. The caption reads ‘My heart’.

Robby wearing an old white t-shirt with Baby written in blocky, slashed writing across the front of it. An ode to Robert Bradley's Blackwater Surprise, a group he’s loved since the 90s. He’s in the midst of cooking lemon cake for your mother’s birthday, a dab of flour smeared across his cheek.

A reel of him out on the water at an undisclosed beach, standing on a paddle board silhouetted by the sunset.

There’s dozen’s of them all depicting a different version of Robby, one that none of them of them have seen before. A happier, healthier one.

Topless Robby hoisting himself out of a pool, Robby pulling a face because he’s gotten brain freeze from eating ice cream, Robby driving with the hint of a smile on his face somewhere up the coast.

“This is why you’re going to lose the bet.” Dana says gesturing at the phone when she catches wind of it. “It doesn’t take a neurosurgeon to see that they’re in love.”

It’s three days later that Robby comes into work with a smile on his face and a little sun burn on his nose. He has ‘Baby’ playing in his ears because he’s still riding high from the weekend the two of you have spent at Geneva-on-the-Lake.

Sun, sea and sex, there’s nothing like it.

He swings into the security office, taking his time to review the betting board. The stakes are torn between you robbing him blind and killing him mid coitus. There’s still some debate as to whether it’ll be intentional or not.

He takes the polaroid picture out of his top pocket, using one of the magnets to fix it to the board amongst the post-its.

It’s one from two days ago of you both on the beach in Ohio. You’re wearing a white lace dress with an orchid woven in your hair and he’s looking into your eyes, his lips curved up into a smile as he says I do.

Married, he writes on the bottom, his wedding ring glinting in the light from the fluorescent. March 29th 2025

Love Robby? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[underwhelmingalchemist]

So apparently the version of the "Isn't It Bromantic" interview that gets passed around isn't the full thing

So after seeing a tumblr post I can't find, about two and half hours of intensive internet digging, and one purchase from a sketchy second-hand site later (full story under the cut, I promise it's interesting, but also long), I got the physical magazine and scanned it

So here you go: the full "Isn't It Bromantic?" TV guide interview with Robert Sean Leonard and Hugh Laurie

Feel free to repost wherever you want- I want people to be able to find the full thing

SO, as for how I found it:

I saw this tumblr post forever ago that I can't find anymore because tumblr is just Like That with a cropped screenshot of an interview with Hugh Laurie and Robert Sean Leonard. In the interview, they're asked about the "bromance" between their two characters. Leonard makes an annoyed comment about how "everyone [is] obsessed with homosexuality", followed by the interview apologizing and Laurie immediately jumping in with, "No, no, let's talk about it. Wilson and House have an unusual relationship so you have to explore…" and the screenshot cuts off there. Cue funny comment from the OP about the interaction, roll credits.

Except, as these things tend to do, it ended up becoming a bit of a brain worm, and I wanted to find it again. But I couldn't find the tumblr post. I looked absolutely everywhere, and in the process of looking everywhere, I found what I thought was the original interview- a blog post with the full quote from the actor. I didn't think too much about it, I figured it was just a short quote given to a popular blog in 2008. There's a magazine cover above it, but I don't think too much about it, because I'm focusing on the quotes in the article instead of the rest of it.

So I send screenshots to a couple friends to make jokes, and it probably should have died there.

However, late at night I end up thinking about that interview again, because of course I did. I start to think about how it's weirdly formatted for, what I assumed at first reading, was just an entertainment news blog reaching out for comment and getting a response. So I pull up the screenshots of the article (because weirdly enough, the old-ass blog only loads on mobile) and look at it again.

This is when I realize that this isn't an original piece from a blog interviewing these two after reaching out for comment. This is a blog post quoting and commenting on a full interview from a magazine, which I had originally thought had just been the inspiration for the piece.

So naturally, I go looking for the magazine.

Luckily, the name of the magazine is displayed on the cover, and so is the title of its main piece. This should be easy to find, right?

Wrong.

This is an interview in a physical magazine. From 2008. October 13th, 2008, to be exact.

I know this exact date because searching the article title and magazine name leads me to an archive on the TV Guide website.

Of covers.

And nothing but covers.

I spend like forty-five minutes searching everywhere I can think of on the web. Internet Archive, the TV Guide website, any search result that comes up when I search any combination of the words "House" "Interview" "Bromantic" "Bromance" "TV Guide" "Archive" etc. Over and over, all that's coming up are that original blog post and the cover from the official gallery.

The only things I could find online were:

The cover and date of the issue on the TV Guide website

The original blog post that was screenshotted in the original tumblr post

Another blog post that had a much shorter version of the quote, references something Leonard says from later in the article, and makes a comment on the nature of his reaction to the term "bromance"

An entry on Leonard's IMDB page's "interview" list mentioning it in title only

And:

5. A single listing for the issue on what seemed to be a second-hand site that looked like it hadn't had its UI updated since the mid 2000's, with a listing with no date or additional information besides what issue it is.

This is the only listing anywhere. I checked every other second-hand site I could think of, and then some that only came up through google searches. There's not a single listing for that issue on any of them. There were plenty of listings of TV guide magazines, including one that seemed promising because it included issues from that year, but it was missing all of October.

It seemed like the only listing for this issue on the entire internet was this one copy on this one obscure website. For all I know, this was listed in 2008 and abandoned, and just never got marked inactive. It could also be a complete scam.

A few quick google searches show that that website seemed to be legit, albeit a bit loose on quality control (which makes sense, this website seemed like the kind of thing you'd have to use the Way Back Machine to access). It also had an option to pay via PayPal, which meant I could file a chargeback if need be.

It was $11.50 when you include shipping.

So at about half past midnight, I bought the listing.

Naturally, about an hour later, I manage to actually find a scan of the interview. I had to follow a link in the comments of a post on FanPop, taking me to an old wordpress blog, and I'm sitting in front of the damn interview at last.

But something doesn't make sense. Why would their cover story only be two pages of text that aren't even full pages, and why would it cut off so strangely? There was no concluding sentence or paragraph, even though it started with a fairly long lead-in. It also led right up to the edge of the page, which felt like there should be more to it. There were more images in the interview than text, and the fact that there are so many of them and they clearly did a whole photoshoot indicated that they had them on hand for a while. The silly string one, for instance, I imagine probably had to require a couple takes, which means cleaning off Wilson's hair and face, adjusting makeup, etc. for it. Meanwhile, the conversation itself seems like it could have taken ten minutes total. I could have been totally wrong and that was where the article ended, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there might be more.

So I hold tight. A couple days pass with no update, and then the PayPal purchase gets updated with a tracking number. Promising, but it could still be a scam. Whether or not I get the actual magazine becomes a source of anxiety for the next week.

Until today, when I get told it was delivered. And when I opened the envelope it was sent in: there it was.

When I tell you I was happy stimming in my bedroom just holding the damn issue in my own hands... And then opening it and finding out that I was right, there was a missing page... I was elated. I still am, just typing this.

So I spent half an hour getting my scanner to work, and I give you the above issues.

Like I said above, feel free to repost however and wherever you want. I want all this to mean something.

In the meantime, I have two more House-themed TV Guide magazines coming to try and get articles from.

[fabled-fiction]

✦ My Golden Guardian ✦

( Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader )

Summary: Bob has his first solo mission coming up. Leaving the whole team to wonder who is going to volunteer to join him to make sure things go smoothly. You’re avoiding the responsibility because you’re barely able to stay in the same room as him without short circuiting…but when Alexei figures out you have a crush on him he volunteers you to go on the mission with him…what could possibly go wrong.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: UHHHH maybe spoilers for Thunderbolts* (it's set after though so not really). Description of gunshot wound - blood and blood loss. Use of (Y/N).

A/N: I'M A LITTLE RUSTY. But Thunderbolts* has slingshot me back to the Avengers tower fic 2012 era and I just needed to write for Bob…I love him too much. I have more planned for this - just know this is a warm up fic (ignore that its 6.5k words)…okay ENJOY.

You had a serious problem.

Scratch that - you had two serious problems.

The first one being your ever growing, debilitating crush on your teammate Bob.

The second one being a certain someone that was currently staring you right in the face.

“You like Bob!”

Framing your face with your hands, you let out a long sigh as you try and curl in on yourself. You’re only halfway successful, anymore and you would have fallen off your stool. And you really didn't want to give Alexei ammunition for this barrage of embarrassment.

“No…no you completely misheard me…” You groaned, leaning your head onto the cool island counter.

You could not believe that you had let it slip. You had been so careful. It was easy at first, when you first met it had been in an incinerator meant to kill all of you so your main priority was to live. Not to swoon over the cute puppy eyed guy who made your heart leap in your chest when he kept introducing himself and trying his best to be helpful despite obviously not really having a clue what was going on. There was no need to address whatever spark you had felt in those few seconds when you and the rest of the team were trying to make it out of the O.X.E facility…alive. But then he proceeded to - at least what it looked like at the time - sacrifice himself so you and Yelena, Ava, and Walker could get away.

How could you not fall for the guy?

“Ah Ah Ah! I have good ears, I heard correctly! You said you liked him too much to be given individual assignment with him.”

“I don't think that's what I said.”

“No, I quote directly.”

“Ahhh Im not -”

“No, yes that is exactly how you said. Verbatim.”

The both of you stared at each other, having a sort of battle of wills. You stared down Alexei with an ever growing blush creeping up from your neck to your cheeks whilst he stared directly back, a growing smile and similar blush of satisfaction rouging his cheeks. 

Taking a beat, you met his eye before feeling your shoulders fall. There was no point in denying it.

“Fine…yes I like Bob.”

“YES!! I KNEW IT!” He cheered as he shot his arms up into the air, a laugh erupting from him as he jumped around.

“Hey! Hey!! Can you keep it down!? I do not need the whole tower knowing.” You whisper yell, shaking your hands at him. 

“Oh yes! Yes yes…shhhhh. Quiet.” He put a finger on his lips as he smiled at you. 

There was a second where Alexei just stared at you smiling. He had this proud look on his face as he walked around the counter island and sat next to you. His hand came to rest on your back as he watched you stare off ahead, seemingly preparing for whatever he was going to say next.

“Why have you not confessed to him? You both would make such beautiful couple.”

This got a quick chuckle as you ran a hand over your face.

You wished it was that simple. You really did. Then the aching in your chest could finally be alleviated every time he walked into a room. You would actually be able to focus on whatever assignment you were given instead of focusing on what it would feel to be able to hold his hand.

By the gods you were down bad for Robert Reynolds.

“I-It's not that simple Alexei. I'd rather not ruin…the team dynamic.” You mutter, beginning to pick at the skin around your nails.

He hummed next to you and you knew he didn't believe one word you had said. You knew he could read into people more than he let on. You supposed that was part of his charm, part of his dynamic in this odd found family unit. There had been plenty of times you had seen him giving a dad-ly speech to whoever needed it at the moment. Right now just happened to be your turn.

“I think you are scared to confront what is in your heart.” He reached forward, resting his finger right above your heart. The moment was sincere…for only a second.

Clapping both hands onto your shoulder, he smiles as he stands.

“But I am not! I shall help you confess your undying love for Bob! A love like this should not be hidden.” 

A cold chill ran up your spine as you quickly stood, watching as he began his leave of the kitchen.

“No Alexei, that really isn't necessary!”

“It is no trouble! I will be best wingman! You’ll see! You won’t regret!”

“Won't regret what?”

Both of your heads whipped towards the entrance to the kitchen, seeing Walker standing there in his training gear. He had a towel wrapped around his neck, but no visible sweat to soak it up. Either he was headed there now or attempting to show off how not tired he was. You were not in the mood to decipher or feed into his ego right now.

Alexei coughed loudly, holding out his hands to you with a smile.

“Our dearest (Y/N) here has agreed to go on Bob’s first solo mission with him!”

Going still, you watch as Alexei gives you a big smile. Walker looks between the two of you before letting out a big sigh and swinging open the fridge door.

“Thank God! Honestly I didn’t think I would have the patience to deal with him.” He laughed as he proceeded to look between the two of you, taking a rather large bite of an apple as his gaze stayed on you.

“You’re up for the challenge right? Cause I don’t think anyone else is…”

With a roll of your eyes, you gave Alexei a quick glare. All he did in return was give you two thumbs up while patting Walker on the shoulder. The super soldier stumbled a little, choking on air as he branched himself on the counter.

“Of course they are! This will be walk in the park!”

──── ✦ ────

It should be criminal, requiring a mission briefing this early in the morning.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stumbled towards the conference room with a huff. You weren’t entirely sure why Bucky felt it was necessary to meet so early. Maybe it was the soldier in him. You remember some off handed conversation from a while ago about it setting the day off on a good routine. Personally you were more than okay with starting the day off by sleeping in a little longer.

Pushing open the door, you sighed as you took a look around the room.

Since it was the meeting regarding Bob’s first mission, you knew most of the team would be there to discuss. It was a big step for him, and even if everyone didn't want to say it out right, they all wanted him to succeed.

Bucky and Yelena stood side by side going over the documents, no doubt plotting the best route for success. Ava was being Ava meaning she was doing her usual brooding in the corner going through what was no doubt her fourth cup of coffee. You couldn’t imagine how tired she was having to be up this early whilst simultaneously keeping her physical body in check.

Before you could see where the rest of the team had decided to perch up, Alexei was in front of you with a folder and a cup of coffee. You gave him a once over before slowly taking both.

If you had been more awake, you would have been able to see what was coming next.

“Good morning! How you sleep? Good? Great! Here, let me sit you down so you can be ready for mission brief.”

Putting a hand on your back, Alexei took your arm and led you over to a pulled out chair. You could tell he had used some of his super soldier strength to sit you down and push your chair in, you had to steady your arm to keep your cup from spilling.

Suddenly he was on the other side of you, one had on your shoulder as he looked back and forth from you and…someone else.

“You both should discuss mission! Would be good preparation.” 

When Alexei pulled back, with a very strong slap to your shoulder, you finally saw who was in the other chair.

Bob sat there, rubbing his shoulder with a wince. He looked just as awake as you, with his hair tousled and clothes still wrinkled from sleep. When Bob met your eye you watched as he swallowed and gave you a small wave. You felt your heart skip in your chest as he gave you a small dopey smile. 

“Goodmorning.” 

You were too busy trying to catch your breath to see Alexei tip toeing away with the biggest grin on his face.

“Morning…How are you feeling about all of this?” Clearing your throat, your eyes flicker over him.

He shuffled in his seat, straightening his shirt as he reached and played with the corner of the document. It didn’t even look creased, he hadn’t even looked at the assignment. Probably out of fear, in truth you had been too nervous to open it as well. Whatever lay in that envelope would determine the course of Bob’s heroic career.

“Nervous…I know everyone will be watching…waiting for me to ‘void’ out or whatever…” 

You felt your hand twitch in your lap as you reached to take hold of his shoulder. He turned towards you with a look of curiosity. “Don’t worry. Whatever happens I'm sure you’ll do great.” 

Reaching for the document, you cleared your throat. “Plus, I’ll be there to help you out.”

“Wait, really?”

Taking a quick look over at him, he was giving you such a hopeful look. He straightened up a little, leaning forward on his elbows as he looked at you.

“Y-Yea…I v-”

“They so valiantly said they wanted to be one to go on mission with you!” 

If you could disappear right now at this very moment you would. Just poof out of existence the minute Alexei opened his mouth. Both you and Bob winced, before looking forward. He stood there next to Yelena with a big smile while everyone else in the room looked a little flustered by his sudden outburst. Walker even chuckled as he brought his cup up to his lips, before a heavy hand slapped him on the back making him choke.

“They will make a great team won’t they?” Alexei smiled, giving you a not so subtle wink.

Walker rolled his shoulders back, cracking his neck as he reached to pat off whatever coffee had spilled on him.

“Yeah sure, whatever you say…”

Looking over at Bob, you were sure the both of you were a violent shade of red. You gave him a short smile which he reciprocated as you two both sat up just a little straighter.

“Alright everyone, we’re already behind schedule so if we can get started.”

──── ✦ ────

It was a simple recon mission.

The two of you were gonna infiltrate a classified mountain base, copy and wipe their hard drives, then get out without them even knowing you were there.

It was specified that you would do most of the heavy lifting. Your background in covert operations would be the main asset to this mission. You would get yourself and Bob into the building, then hack the system and make sure every nook and cranny was scraped then trashed. Avoid interaction at all cost.

Bob was there mostly for muscle.

And to watch you work.

That was the part that made you nervous. The rest you could do with your eyes closed, and a hand tied behind your back without breaking a sweat. But the thought of Bob watching your every move made your hand twitch.

The both of you stood at the edge of the jet’s drop off. You were hovering there, waiting for the open window to drop down.

This was Bob’s first test and would kick start the mission. He was supposed to get the two of you down safely and without alarm.

“How’re you feeling Bob?” Fixing a strap on your suit you finally looked up to meet his eye.

“Fine…Yea y’know just the first time I'm using my powers since I nearly wiped out all of New York…so a walk in the park really.” He was flexing his hands at his sides, like he was trying to get a grip on the reality of the situation.

You let him breathe there for a second, giving him enough time to catch his bearings. But not enough time where he could possibly spiral. 

“If I’m not worried you shouldn’t be worried. This mission is just meant to test the waters…we’ll be in and out.” 

Turning his head to look right at you, he swallowed hard. “I just don’t want to hurt you if anything goes wrong…”

A chill ran up your spine. You weren’t sure how to respond to that. Anything you could say got caught in your throat, choking you on your own desperation. Hearing those words was something that you didn’t know you needed, it set something ablaze in your chest. You were clawing at anything inside of you to respond, to get him to say anything else. To not let this moment slip by, even if it wasn’t the most appropriate time to.

If you could just get the words out, you could tell him there was absolutely nothing he could do that could hurt you. That even though he was the god amongst men, you were devout only to him.

When your lips finally parted, when you felt your confessional finally reach the tip of your tongue the plane jolted. You couldn’t react in time, your feet catching on the other as you reached for anything to steady yourself. It felt like practically the whole plane turned at a sharp 90 degree angle, before you could steady yourself something else did.

Bob wrapped his arm around your waist, steadying the both of you.You squeezed your eyes shut waiting for an impact that never came. The air around you felt like a shield as he held the two of you there, holding just a few inches above the air. His hands gripped onto you tightly, like if he let you go the floor would fall out from beneath.

When you opened your eyes again, he was staring down at you with a golden gaze. One arm stayed wrapped around your waist as the other came to hold your face. His touch felt like fire on your skin, holding your attention on him. If you tore your eyes away it felt like you were to commit a sin.

“SORRY! TURBULENCE! EVERYTHING OKAY BACK THERE?”

His eyes snuffed out as he looked over to Alexei in confusion then back to you. You couldn’t help but notice that he had yet to let you go as the both of you touched back down.

“But we’re not moving?”

With a sigh you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yea I don’t…I don’t know what to tell you. Let’s just get ready to drop.”

──── ✦ ────

Everything was going fine until it wasn't. 

Which is usually the case for missions that seem like they were going to be a breeze, but you just wished it wouldn’t happen on this mission.

Bob was able to land the both of you on top of the building, near the entry point mapped out in the briefing. Breaking in was a breeze, especially since Bob was able to just force open any lock that gave you trouble. The two of you walked in sync, your footsteps becoming one as you turned each corner with your head on a swivel. There was a lot of security here, and people practically at each bend. 

But with bated breaths and practiced steps you were able to get to the command center without incident.

You had only been in there for a few minutes when Bob came up beside you, watching as your fingers began to fly across the keyboard.

“So…what are you doing exactly?” He leaned in close, his shoulder touching yours as you typed.

You faltered for a second, your brain short circuiting at the contact. His breath fanned over your neck as he looked over your shoulder, beaconing your pulse to quicken. You took a second to take a deep breath and close your eyes, willing your heart to slow down. He was too close for you to not be able to hide how shaky your hands became, to hear how loud your heart beat for him.

“I-I'm just bypassing any security measures they have in place. That way when I begin the download nothing corrupts the hard drive. Right now I'm sorta just on the surface level of their database, trying to reprogram all security clearance through my own user so I don't set off any alarms within their system.”

He hummed next to you putting his knuckle on his lip like he understood. But you saw a familiar glaze run over his eyes, the one that people got when something went completely over their head. Sometimes you forgot that Bob was a civilian before all of this…

Slowing your typing, you threw up what you were doing on the big monitor. Nudging him with your elbow you pointed to where your cursor was.

“Since we want to get everything off their computers without letting them know we’re even here…I'm rerouting every employee login and account through one. Mine. That way no matter how high the clearance of any specific file I'll be able to grab it up without their system knowing any wiser.” 

“What’re you gonna do after that?” 

Pressing a few more keys, a progress bar came up on the screen, read at twenty-three percent uploaded.

“Well while we wait for everything to download, I need to install some sort of malware. Something that’ll delete everything including any trace that we were even here.”

“So what am I here for?” 

“In case anything goes wrong, you’ll be my golden guardian and punch a way out. Think you can do that?” You smile, trying to lighten the mood as you pull up the surrounding camera feed.

He gives you that same smile, the one that makes your heart drop into your stomach as he rocks back and forth on his heels. “Don’t worry. I've got your back.”

Giving him a once over, you gestured at the screen. “Y’know I could teach you this stuff…it's really not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

He looked at you like you had hung the world. You watched as his eyes flickered gold for just a moment as he processed what you had said. Turning back to your typing you tried not to give it away that that single look made you want to never break away with him again, you wanted to covet every iteration of his attention that you could hold.

“It’d be nice to have someone else on the team that knows this stuff.”

“Does Yelena not know how to do this?”

“Who do you think gives Yelena and the rest of the team the thumb drives that does all of the work for them?

This gets a laugh from him, one that makes your ears burn as you continue to type.

“That would be cool, I'll definitely take you up on that after we get back.”

“It's a date.” The words slipped out in just that order before you could reel them in. A chill went down your spine as you realized what you had just said. 

You could tell that you had taken Bob by surprise when you said that. His shoulders squared and rolled back ever so slightly as he straightened to look at you. He was still nervously pulling at his fingers but you had captured his attention.

You opened your mouth to say more - when suddenly the room was shaded in red. 

The both of you turned to the screen and saw a large flashing warning screen piercing your eyes. You reached up to shield them as one of your hands went to type on the keypad. 

“ALERT ALERT. UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS AT TERMINAL 3-2-4-8!”

“Fuck.” You whispered, your fingers beginning to make dents in the keyboard with how hard you were typing. 

“What's happening!?” Bob yelled, covering his ears.

You weren’t completely locked out yet. This was merely a scare tactic. They had realized where you were accessing the system but hadn’t been able to locate which string of commands was yours. The progress bar showed you were at eighty-three percent. 

You just needed a little more time.

“They found out we’re here. I should still be able to get everything downloaded but I just need a little more time.” 

Pulling open one of your pouches you pulled out a small SD card. You really didn’t want to upload the malware while you were still scrapping all the information but you couldn’t afford to wait any longer. You’d just have to hope that you could download the last seventeen percent before the virus infected everything in the facility.

Looking up you see Bob standing there like a deer in headlights. The red light seemingly being a personification of his anxiety, it painted every crease of fear on his face.

“Bob! BOB! I need you to reinforce the door.”

He shook his head, as if he was shaking all the anxieties out of his thoughts. “Right! Yup! On it!”

It took just a beat for the two of you to jump back into action. You quickly began stripping the terminal internally while Bob ran to pin the door closed. You were racing against your own software as you watched the malware start to eat up the server you were on. The screen started to glitch as you continued to type.

“Fuck…FUCK! C’mon.”

Looking up, you saw Bob pushing multiple desks in front of the door. He was stacking them atop one another, creating a mountain of protection to keep any of them from getting in. Bob let out a huff as he leaned against the pile.

“That should hold them. Hows it coming on your end?”

“Just…Give me a few more seconds…”

Right when the progression bar reached one hundred percent you ripped it out of the computer and held it up.

“I GOT IT!”

You should have known that this would be when shit hit the fan.

You were only able to see Bob give you a strained smile and thumbs up before the windows to the office exploded with gunfire. 

Glass flew in every direction, cascading over the desks as you dropped to your knees behind them. Covering your head you let out a scream as you tucked under the desk.

You heard Bob call out your name above the gunfire, a blur coming into view as he kneeled in front of you.

“Are you okay?!”

“Oh y’know never better! Getting shot at is my favorite way to end a mission!” You yell, giving a thumbs up as you slid the hard drive into one of your belt pockets. 

You weren’t prepared for this to happen. It was supposed to be a covert mission, they weren’t supposed to know you were here. You didn’t have any bulletproof anything on, you didn’t have any exit gear or counter measures you could use at your disposal…You were totally exposed.

Closing your eyes, you winced as you continued hearing the bullets rain down around you. You tried to make sense of every different sound coming from around you, from the metal banging on the reinforced door to the smell of smoke and gunpowder coming from the other side of the room. There were two loud bangs that erupted from behind, making you curl further into yourself. The room had surged into chaos around you, a chaos you weren’t able to escape it seemed like.

Then you felt a tender touch on your wrist, pulling it away from your ear. Slowly looking over you saw Bob now haloed by a light behind him.

“Hey! Hey! I think I found a way out. There's a door in the back. We just need to make a break for it.”

Even under a hail of bullets, Bob still managed to halt your every action with one gesture. He held his hand out for you, waiting with an expected gaze. 

“C’mon…”

When your hands locked together, Bob quickly pulled you out from under the table. He whipped you around to shield you from the bullets, tucking your head into his chest as he curled around you. You watched as the bullets just bounced off of him, landing just a few inches away from you. He didn’t even seem bothered by all the commotion like he was a few seconds ago, you could tell now his main concern was making sure you got out safe.

There was a pause, when the muzzle flares stopped and the sound of clips dropping filled the air.

“They’re reloading…Bob they’re reloading…GO NOW!”

The both of you started running, your feet pounding hard on the ground as Bob led you to the door. It felt like your two hands were more than interwoven. It was like they were sealed by the very grooves in your palms, fusing into one pulse. You could practically feel how hard his heart was pounding, it got louder and louder the closer you got to the door. Like it was telling you that you were almost out of harm's way.

If you could have just made it through that door without incident…

The door was bolted shut, that much was evident when it didn’t move an inch despite Bob’s pulling on the handle. His one hand remained with you, while the other smacked the door.

He was too stressed to even think about using his powers…

“Bob…Bob just breathe! Focus on pushing the door open. That's all you need to do!”

You felt a twitch in your ears when the familiar sounds of chambers being loaded ricocheted off the walls of the office. Turning your head back, you swallowed when the men that were behind the windows had seemingly disappeared, but you could hear the squeak of their boots. They were moving into a better position, a better vantage point that gave them a better angle on the two of you. 

When Bob looked back to give you a triumphant opened mouth smile, a burning sensation erupted through your side. You felt confused at first, a grimace making its way on your face as a searing pain shot up through your nerves. 

The air around you turned stale when you pulled back the hand you had placed on your side, and it was coated in your blood.

You were bleeding. You were bleeding from a wound that suddenly felt like a red hot rod was slowly making its way through your side.

You tried to catch your breath as you looked up at Bob, who had gone pale. His eyes were trained not on you but on your hand and your wound. They flickered between the two quickly, before slowly making their way up to meet your eye.

“Bob…Did I just get shot?” Your voice barely peaked above a quivering whisper as the pain reached your knees, making your joints buckle under the pressure of the pain…how fast it was coming on.

You braced yourself in his arms as he caught you, pulling you through the doorway as the sound of gunfire erupted in your ears once more. Had the pain amplified everything else? Those gunshots were not nearly as loud as they were last time they shot at you. You winced as one hand kept pressure on where you assumed the wound was, while the other cradled your head.

Bob quickly sealed the door shut, rushing over to your side. One of his hands came to press on the hand that held your wound, while the other cupped your face. Just like on the plane, his thumb stroked under your eye. The moment he held you, you forgot all about the pain that was tearing through your muscles.

“Hey…Hey…You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be alright…It's not even that bad really…” Bob kept muttering as he kneeled above you.

When he pulled his hand away from your cheek you were reminded of the pain again. You groaned as the pain made you writhe up into a hunched sitting position. Both hands now rested on the wound, as you looked around with squinted eyes.

Your mind was trying to recall the building schematics from the mission briefing…the rooftop access that led to a maze of hallways where the end goal was the office. Everytime your mind was about to remember the multiple routines planned for your exit a gush of blood would spill between your fingers.

“I can see those gears turning in your head. C’mon (Y/N)...Once you get us out of here you’re gonna be right as rain.” 

When he was right in front of you again, placing both of his hands on either side of your face it all came rushing back to you.

The door was right in the back of the office…to the left of the door you both came in…so if you were right this hallway was headed in the south west direction of the building. It would just be a maze after that…a maze you knew neither of you could navigate together given current circumstances.

“Okay Bob…I'm gonna pack and dress my wound while you…break a hole through the ceiling.”

It was like he short circuited. His eyes widened then squinted as he tilted his head and licked his lips. It almost looked like he wasn’t fully computing what you had just said, which drew a pained chuckle from you.

“Are you sure you haven’t lost too much blood? Do you know where we are right now? Quick, without thinking what year is it?” 

You gave him a shove as you began to pull gauze and medical tape from a pouch to your right. The bleeding had slowed but that didn’t mean much to you given that the pain had made your entire side go numb now…

“Im serious…Im probably gonna pass out within the next three minutes and the emergency evac won’t get there before that. So our next best option is for you to fly us out of here and to the evac point instead of trying to be covert and manage your way through this maze of a building.”

“Wait, you're gonna pass out before they get here?!” He whipped around, watching as you wrapped the tape around the gauze and your waist.

“My body is going into shock…” You mutter, your fingers beginning to tingle as you stumbled down onto your knees.

“Fuck…Okay…J-Just give me a second!” 

Bob quickly flew away from you, giving you quite literally only a second to press the panic button on your suit before he was in front of you again. There was a breeze that wafted through the hallway now, calming you ever so slightly as you let out a shaky breath. 

“C’mere…” Holding out his arms, he motioned for you to come closer. 

Slowly, you moved into Bob’s space. He reached forward slowly, pulling you into him. Letting him move your arms to wrap around his neck, he reached to hold onto your back before hooking his arm under your knees. You kept your eyes shut as you felt him tighten his hold on you, followed by a gushing of wind.

You knew exactly what was happening, and you did not trust yourself to open your eyes.

“DO NOT DROP ME BOB!”

You felt a chuckle rumble through his chest as the two of you came to a stop. The air around you held you close, brushing against your cheek as you dared to peel it off of Bob’s chest.

“I told you I’ve got your back. Everything is going to be just fine.”

Peaking one eye open, you saw him smile down at you. You let out a breathy chuckle as you felt him tug you even closer - if that was even possible.

──── ✦ ────

Something was pinning your arm down.

You were hyper aware of how your entire body felt right now, especially your side…where you were shot was sore but no longer on fire. You were tucked into what felt like a starched hospital bed. But you couldn’t make sense of why your left arm felt like it was pinned down by some weights. Nothing had happened to it to your knowledge.

Slowly you peeled your eyes open, smacking your lips together. After you managed to pull whatever was pinning your arm down off of you you’d need to get a glass of water. 

When you finally managed to turn your head, you saw Bob. To be more specific Bob was sleeping atop your arm, his body steadily rising and falling as he was practically hanging off the side of your bed.

Everything about the end of the mission was coming back to you now. How you put your life in Bob’s hands as he got the both of you out of harm's way and home. A small smile made its way on your lips as you adjusted ever so slightly. As much as you liked looking at him like this, you really wanted your arm back.

He must have sensed that you had woken up, because before you could peel him off your arm he lifted his head up. Your breath got caught in your throat as the both of you just stared at each other.

Bob immediately shot up, the chair he was (barely) sitting on screeching back into the wall. “You’re awake! H-How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” 

You laughed as you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, seeing Bob freeze as he waited for something to go wrong.

“Water…” You rasped, coughing into the back of your hand.

A bottle of water made it into your hand in record time, with Bob holding the back of it as he opened the bottle for you. With a slow swallow, you hummed as Bob put the lid back on and moved it over to the bedside table.

“How long have I been out?” 

He slowly pulled the chair back up to the edge of your bed, sitting right beside you as he rolled his shoulders back.

“About eighteen hours. We got back at around three am, they rushed you to surgery after that. Said you were lucky that it went clean through.” 

You nodded, glancing down at the edge of the bed he was sat at. He was picking at the skin around his finger nails, eyes not meeting yours as he recalled what happened with precision. Like it had been running through his head the entire time you were out. There was no doubt in your mind that this entire time that he was waiting for you to wake up his anxieties were eating him alive…

Your fingers twitched in your lap as you took a second to compose yourself before slowly sliding your hand into his. The warmth of your palm seeped into his as the two of you just sat there in silence, neither of you looking directly at each other but rather at the grip of your palms together.

You broke the silence first, your voice cutting through the tension. “You did a really good job Bob.”

“Ahhh, It was all thanks to your calm head. You really were the reason why everything went smoothly.” He muttered, his thumb running across your knuckles.

“Bob you’re the whole reason why I got out of there in one piece you know that right? You’re also the reason why we were able to get in and out without incident.” You lean your head down to try and catch his eye.

“Without incident.” He scoffs, looking to the side. But he didn’t let go of your hand, if anything his grip got tighter. 

“Bob…I hope you know that wasn’t your fault. Everything was going smoothly up until that millisecond where they got the jump on us. Did you forget you literally shielded me from a barrage of bullets seconds earlier? I was watching them just bounce off you with awe.” You chuckle.

He took a second to process what you said, his eyes staying on your hand before finally making their way up to yours. When his eyes met yours his sweet smile finally graced his lips again, making your cheeks go hot.

“Y’know that still shocks me that I can do that…”

“Dude I wish I was bulletproof! Would save me so much time honestly.”

This gets a laugh from him as he sits up straighter, running a hand through his hair as he looks at you with such a devoted look. “Says the expert hacker. Which reminds me, you promised me some hacking lessons when we got back.”

“If I remember correctly I believe I called it a date…” You paused for just a second, a warmth exploding in your chest as a foreign confidence found its way into your veins.

The blush that had been painting your cheeks everytime you found yourself in a room with Bob seemed to spread to him as he smiled at you. Or maybe he always had that rouge on his cheeks as you were just never able to see it past the burning of your own. 

When he opened his mouth to respond, another voice shook the walls.

“FINALLY! YOU AGREE TO GO ON DATE! I HAVE WING MANED SUCCESSFULLY!” 

Alexei stood there with his arms high up in the air, laughing as he looked between the two of you. He clapped his hands together before holding them out to bask at the two of you. Both you and Bob just sat there in shock, waiting for the cheerful Russian to reach a normal volume.

When he noticed that the two of you were both blushed deer in headlights left to his jests, he went stiff as he raised his hands in surrender. “Do not mind me. Go back to your confessions of feelings. I will be down the hall…Glad to see you are awake and well.”

If he could have left a puff of smoke shaped like him in his wake as he ran away, you were sure that's what you would be staring at now instead of an empty doorway.

There was a beat of silence, as both you and Bob slowly turned to look at eachother again. But instead of an awkward tension he only gave you a shy smile as his other hand reached to rub the back of his neck…with his other still holding yours.

“So…he agreed to be your wing man as well?”

“Oh my god don't even get me started on that.”

[https-bobreynolds]

enter the sun and the spell

pairing: robert ‘bob’ reynolds/sentry x enchantress! reader

summary: wouldn’t be a part of a superhero team without dramatic, grand entrances.

author’s note: AAAAAAAA I ABSOLUTELY LOVE ACTION SEQUENCE FICS!!! let me know if i should do more of it🥺

everything’s chaos.

ava is down, shorting out and twitching. alexei is half-buried under a collapsed steel beam, protecting yelena beneath him. walker shielding himself with the last flicker of his strength, teeth grit.

red light flashes from every direction. sirens screaming. drones whirring overhead. and in the center of it all, a towering mech-god hybrid bristling with stark-grade weaponry, absorbing every hit like it’s nothing.

“we could use a little help here.” bucky growls into comms, ducking behind a crumbling pillar as plasma sears past.

another blast hits. the concrete buckles.

he mutters, “where the hell are-“

THUNDER.

not from the sky but from the air itself. like the world just inhaled.

crack. the clouds ripple apart.

light splits open the sky like a curtain tearing in reverse, golden, searing, white-hot, as a figure descends from the clouds at terminal velocity.

THE SENTRY.

glowing like a second sun. a comet wrapped in fire.

his landing impact cracks the street, sends shockwaves through the block. cars rattle. the mech stumbles. dust spirals. a sonic boom follows an instant later, late, like the world needed a second to catch up.

from the rubble, yelena groans, shielding her eyes.

walker mutters, “show-off.”

bob sentry lifts his head, eyes blazing pure energy. “heard you guys were in trouble.”

ava starts, “and where the hell’s-“

green lightning splits the ground.

it starts as a low hum, a spell igniting in the marrow of the world. runes spiral across cracked pavement in a circle, glowing from beneath.

the mech rears back, some internal system detecting something wrong, before you rise from the glowing runic seal like mist made solid.

cloak fluttering. eyes lit green-gold. hair lifted in wind that isn’t there.

your boots hit the ground with a light click.

you lift a single hand.

a chain of burning sigils erupts from your palm, wrapping around the mech’s limbs mid-strike, not restraining, but binding, with magic that whines like a violin at its limit. arcane energy threads through the metal plating like vines through stone.

the thing roars.

you cock your head slightly.

“shh,” you murmur. “the adults are talking.”

with a twist of your wrist, the bindings explode, taking both arms with them.

yelena stares. “okay, how did she just…”

“she’s channeling her,” sentry murmurs, stepping forward beside you. “just a fraction of her power.”

“yeah, well,” bucky pants, “someone better tell the bad guy it’s just a fraction, cause-“

before he finishes, you leap.

a golden platform blooms under your foot midair, you vault off it, conjure another beneath you, dancing across sigils in midair as you rain enchanted fire down from your palms. green bolts crash into the mech’s core. you flip backward through burning smoke and land beside sentry.

the mech lurches, failing.

sentry floats up again, his voice low, “you wanna finish it?”

you nod, breathless. “together?”

he offers you his hand.

magic coils around your forearm as you take it. his energy glows hot and gold.

and in one perfect motion, you and sentry lift into the sky like a rising myth, and on his count…

“now.”

he hurls you like a spell itself.

you’re a streak of emerald fire across the sky, spinning, brimming with wrath and elegance, before slamming down into the mech’s core, carving a runed spear from your palm midair and driving it straight through.

impact.

time slows.

the mech goes still, then detonates inward in a rush of imploding magic and machine.

silence.

the dust clears.

the rest of the thunderbolts* stagger to their feet.

you’re standing in the crater, one hand extended, panting, glowing. your eyes slowly dim. the runes fade. the storm calms.

and then, “still a show-off.” walker calls, brushing dust off his jacket.

you smirk as sentry lands beside you. “wouldn’t be me if i wasn’t.”

he glances at you, smiling. “you okay?”

you nod. “i didn’t burn out. not this time.”

his hand brushes yours, a moment, subtle.

“good,” he says, quietly. “i like seeing you light up the sky.”

you don’t say anything back. but your fingers curl into his just enough.

the others gather, limping, groaning, swearing.

and from the wreckage, the team walks off slowly, war-torn, victorious.

part two

tag list:

@lovetoalll

[delopsia]

Moonlit Bull Riding

Character: Robert Reynolds

Giving him a hand job :)

I've been thinking about this ever since you sent it 🥴 ⭐Join my Starlight Stampede Event! ⭐

Moonlit Bull Riding — Send any kind of thought or request for your rider(s)

His shrill whine shatters the silence that has collected in the room. Box springs squeal as his hips jerk, chasing nothing but air.

"You stopped," he whimpers, like his whole world is about to end. "Why'd you stop?" And if you didn't know him any better, you would think Bob is genuinely upset about this crime you've committed against him.

Sweet blue eyes peer back at you, so wet that they glisten in the dull light pouring in through the window, courtesy of a streetlamp. Even in the dark, you can feel the weight of them tracing over your face, looking for a reason. An answer. Something he can fix.

They find nothing.

His foot kicks, grumbling low in his throat. Petulant.

Puppy eyes must be one of his superpowers.

Your hand wraps around his cock once more, returning to the lazy rhythm you'd built up prior to your little stunt, loose ups and downs, punctuated by the swipe of your thumb over his weeping tip. Fuck, he's so wet that you almost didn't need to tear open that packet of lube.

But you can still feel him looking at you. Waiting on the answer you've yet to give him.

"I was just messing with you," admitting it with a kiss on the tip of his nose, as if to atone for your crime.

Bob squirms closer, working his way up onto your pillow and pressing his forehead against yours. "Mean." The bridge of his nose wrinkles, his best attempt at showcasing his displeasure.

Your wrist twists. That expression dissolves from his face in a matter of milliseconds, eyes falling closed, sucking in a sharp breath.

"Like that?" You ask it like you don't already know what he likes.

"Uhuh," nodding, dumbly, a little noise slipping out of him. Its impossible not to repeat the motion, tightening your fist as it twists around his cock, jerking him off in earnest now.

His eyes roll, falling closed only for him to pry them open again, determined to keep looking at you. It's a losing battle, broken by the desperate twitch of his own hips. He just can't seem to stay still. He's wriggling like a damn worm, chasing your touch only to reel back from it, unsure of what he even wants.

Your thumb smooths over his cock head, rubbing one, two, three firm little circles into it. And oh, he gasps, keening all high and pitchy. Those thighs squeeze together, cock twitching in your hand.

"I...I'm..." Bob's mouth hangs open, tongue resting on his bottom lip, panting like a dog. His breath hitches, kicking his foot again.

"That's it," you hum; there's no need for him to finish his sentence, you already know. "Cum for me, baby."

His head tilts to the side, cheek squishing into the pillow, and your thumb swipes across his tip one last time, and—

Bob's body jerks, cumming with a drawn out whine that ought to wake whoever is sleeping on the other side of the wall. Whoever that is, you don't care. You can't think about anything other than this. The sight of his cum painting your hand, length twitching so hard that you reckon you can see the waves of his orgasm washing through his exhausted body.

"Shit," he's laughing through a gasp, cut short by his own moan. "That...oh my god."

"If you're not tired now," a yawn strikes before you can finish that thought, "then I don't know what to do with you."

Right on queue, a yawn wracks through him, so contagious that the mere sight of it sets him off. "I think I can sleep now."

"You think?"

[juiles]

Horror Movie Queen

Requested: yes

Summary: a teen reader whos done a bunch of horror movies is filming a scene where she has to scream, freaks everyone out in the cast. Italics is the filmed scene.

Tags: really just fluff except one mention of torture and hitting

Masterlist here.

Request form here.

Taglist here:

A/N: Its short but its something new. i think im getting back to writing again so thats exciting!!

--------------------------------------------------

Y/n sat staring at the star studded cast in front of her at the reading table. Scarlett Johansson, Robert Downey Jr., Tom Holland, Elizabeth Olsen. It was wild all the people she had spent her whole life looking up to, and here she was, about to film a whole Marvel movie with them.

This was new territory for her too. A whole new genre of movie, different from the horror movies she was known for. The rest of the cast didn’t watch her movies so they didn’t know how she worked.

“Y/n? You okay?” Chris Evans asked waving his hand around in front of her face. “You zoned out there.” He added softly to the teen who flushed slightly and nodded looking down at her hands. “Have you done enough reading now? Are you ready to get into costume and makeup?”

Y/n paused for a moment picking at her fingers before she looked up and nodded. “Yeah. Ill go get ready. I’ll see you guys tomorrow?” She took a quick glance around at everyone who shot her small nods before she disappeared. When she finally came to set, fully ready for her scene, her manager waved her over.

“Okay… lets get this over with guys.” She said, her manager chuckling at the bored look on the teenagers face that was currently covered in bruises and blood, her clothes hanging off of the girls frail body, a gash across her face where a scar usually sat on her characters face.

She was filming her background scene, how her character, Maddison, got where she was, fighting with the Avengers. The torture and pain the character had gone through obvious with the way she was dressed. “Alright you, are you ready to scream?” Thomas asked the girl with a grimace, knowing what he had to pretend to do to the girl. She nodded and stepped on to the set, a cold damp cell that had red splatter all over one wall, showing what she was supposed to have gone through. Thomas stepped forward, the director getting ready for filming, unknown to the teen, the rest of her cast mates stepped in to the studio, hiding in the shadows.

Scarlett elbowed a nervous looking Lizzie who motioned to the makeup on the girls face, the blonde shook her head slightly motioning to be quiet with a finger to her lips. Evans eyes widened as he studied the gash on the girls face. They all knew it was makeup, but as they had grown protective of the young girl, it scared them all. The all focused in on the girl when the director called action.

--Filming scene--

Maddison, a 13 year old girl who had been kidnapped by Baron Strucker at the age of 5, sat huddled against the bloody wall, her whole body shaking as she slowly lifted her head, a giant gash across her face, towards the man standing in front of her. The man merely raised his hand that held a ragged, rusty dagger and slashed down at the girl, her face getting slashed.

The girl let out a blood curdling scream, a scream so loud it even made Strucker take a step back out of shock. The man then turned on his heel and slammed the cell door closed whispering to the girl. “No one will ever want someone as disgusting as you.”

--Scene over--

The director called cut and y/n stood up and with a lack of emotion on her face and grabbed her water bottle. She had barely gotten a sip of it when she was collided with, a pair of arms wrapping around her, gripping her tightly. The teen squeaked as she tried to move the blonde hair to see the horrified look of all her adult castmates standing around her. She patted the back of what she assumed to be Scarlett with a look of confusion running across her face.

“What was that?” Mark asked as he nervously twisted his hands. “How did you bring that up? That was so real…”

“What do you mean?” Y/n asked as Scarlett finally pulled back. “I’m confused?”

“It was very convincing sounding darling.” The actress said, one hand not leaving the teens arm. “Are you okay?”

“Oh. I’m fine?” She responded. “I did- have you guys never seen any of my movies?”

RDJ looked at the girl sheepishly. “Your movies are intense kid… theyre a little scary for most of us.” The teen barked out a laugh shaking her head.

“My whole career I’ve only done horror movies, that scream just is what it is at this point. Nothing behind it, just 5 years of perfecting it.” She said with a small shrug and a small smirk on her face.

“Jesus kid, you gave us a heart attack as a whole.” Hemsworth chuckled as he ruffled the girls hair making the teen roll her eyes with a small smile as she was called back to the set.

Taglist: @mythixmagic @boredandneedfanfics @natashamaximoff-69 @asiangmrchk13

[aliorsboxostuff]

Can I request grey house x male reader fluff or smut is fine , if that's not too much

Yessss honestly i was in the mood to write some fluff but if this turns out slightly bitter sweet erm,,,, i can only apologize hgdhdghjfjgh i can only write House so much before he goes out of character HAHAHA 

Within his arms.

Tags: Greg House x M!reader, Greg House, male!Reader, doctor!reader, Allison Cameron, Robert Chase, Eric Foreman, fluff, slight OOC on House's side whoops, Cuddling, Bantering, just pure cuteness and maybe bittersweet at the end.

The tests are done, and the results are on House’s desk. Surely he wouldn't mind you taking a short nap before checking in with the patient, right?

—

It was midnight, precisely 15 minutes past 12 AM. 

For the past 3 days, the current patient House’s team is diagnosing has been going from stable to unstable in a matter of hours. With each problem they solved, another pop-up, and with the week ending it seems like you'd have to cancel your weekend plans if the patient's condition keeps deteriorating. 

You’ve just finished the last batch of blood tests, eyes grimy as you try to blink away the claws of sleep. There were a couple of times where you had to violently jerk yourself away, and then hold the urge to stick a needle of adrenaline into yourself just to keep testing stuff.

Somewhere in your head, about a couple of hours ago, Cameron came by to tell you that House might still be in his office until late. She was the only other doctor who knew of your little crush on the diagnostician, and pity you for it. You don't blame her. After knowing what the girl went through with him, you can't help but be sympathetic, though, despite her blatant warning, your heart can't seem to stop doing flips whenever House is around. 

A machine beeps. You grumble, standing from where you sat to retrieve the result.

“I should check in on House…” You mumble, betting on him still being around. 

Stumbling through the halls, you finally made it to your Boss’ office, and while it’s disappointing, you're not surprised he’s no longer present. The man must've gone home ages ago, he probably was packing up when Cameron informed you of his overtime possibility. You sigh, dropping the results of the blood tests on his desk before your eyes glance at the couch, enticing you with its soft cushions. 

The tests are done, and the results are on House’s desk. Surely he wouldn't mind you taking a short nap before checking in with the patient, right?

You check the perimeters, around the office and into the hall. House is nowhere to be seen. The night shift nurses as milling about, busy with their patients to monitor. Finally, you nudge the door to close softly, the glass making a short clink, before you drape your aching body onto the sofa. After hours of testing and sitting hunched on the stool, the sofa comforts your back. Groaning as you stretch your arms above your head, fringe dropping slightly as your head leans back.

You sigh, relieved, a mixture of boredom and sleepyness a toxic concoction luring you to close your heavy eyes. You drape your arms around yourself, your lab coat long forgotten somewhere in the office. Bringing your legs to your chest, you lean slightly to your left, resting your cheek on the headrest, eyes fluttering close. Surely House, if he was still even here, wouldn't mind, right? 

If he did he would've shouted at me by now, that was the last thought you had before darkness slowly engulfed your vision, even the insistent tapping of a familiar cane didn't wake you.

—

“–ow are they so comfortable together? That couch is way too small,” 

“And House is all long limbs and- Honestly its impressive,” 

“Can't you two just hurry up and grab my phone? I can take a picture of them!” 

Soft light slowly penetrates your grogginess, eyes blinking open, trying to adjust to your slow-awakening nerves. You yawn, sighing at the feeling of being well-rested, it felt comfy and warm, something soft draped over your body, and someone’s long arms wrapped around you. Leaning back slightly to try and greedily soak up what is left of the person's warmth, a small smile makes it way to your lips when-

Wait. Someone? 

“Are you three going to keep gawking or should I test how hard I can throw my cane?” House’s voice snaps at your senses, vibrating through you as your ears are pressed beneath his collarbone. You hear the man behind you groan, knowing House he probably gave the team the worst eye roll known to mankind. 

“I thought I asked for the test results last night? I don't see them on my desk,” His tone drops lower. Instead of seeing, you hear a quick sequence of shuffling and shoes shuffling on carpeted floors, knowing it must be your other co-workers hurrying out of the office. 

You gulp, finally finding your voice after you're sure it won't crack. “The results are already on your desk, know…”

House nods above you. His chin rests atop your head. “I’ve read through them.” 

He pauses. “You got the PTT wrong.”

“No? I’m sure it didn't…” Your voice fades.

You feel House shift. He moves your legs to drape over the couch’s armrest, alleviating more of his limped leg. “No, but I just bought us another half an hour, so unless you want to go back to acting professional, I suggest you-”

“No,” You croak out. “No it’s…. Fine. Thanks,” 

You feel House sighs. Either way, you decide to push your luck as you lean deeper into the doctor's neck, sighing, and pull at the blanket further. Something deep in you worries, a ball of anxiety growing steadily. You don't know if House knows of your little infatuation, if he resents it or lets it fester to consume you whole. He and his puzzles are too advanced for you to understand, though eventually, it boils down to his entertainment. Is he letting you do this to see how far you’ll go? 

Suddenly, you feel House’s hand rest on your shoulder, one finger tapping gently. “You lucky I was also staying late last night,”

You hum, relief settles in. Despite the outcome of this predicament, sleeping in House’s embrace while the man himself seems content enough to let you off the hook, you cherish this and compile it into your memory. 

Requests are open! Reblogs appreciated <3

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Poetic Genres

Whereas a poetic "form" defines the way a poem arranges sounds, rhythms, or its appearance on the page, a poetic "genre" is something like the poem's style. Many poetic genres have a long history, and new poems almost always seek to explore a new aspect of the traditional style and thus to redefine the genre in some way. The following list is a selection of the major genres of poetry.

allegory A narrative with two levels of meaning, one stated and one unstated.

aubade A song or poem greeting the sunrise, traditionally a lover's lament that the night's passion must come to an end.

ballad Broadly speaking, the ballad is a genre of folk poetry, usually an orally transmitted narrative song. The term "ballad" applies to several other kinds of poetry, including the English ballad stanza, which is a form often associated with the genre.

blason A Renaissance genre characterized by a short catalogue-style description, often of the female body.

cento A poem composed entirely of lines from other poems.

dirge A funeral song.

dramatic monologue This might be called a "closet soliloquy": a long poem spoken by a character who often unwittingly reveals his or her hidden desires and actions over the course of the poem. The "I" of the dramatic monologue is very distinct from the "I" of the poet's persona. Robert Browning was a master of this genre.

eclogue A short pastoral poem; Virgil's eclogues are one of the first examples of this genre.

ekphrasis Originally a description of any kind, "ekphrasis" is now almost exclusively applied to the poetic description of a work of art.

elegy This genre can be difficult to define, as there are specific types of elegiac poem as well as a general elegiac mood, but almost all elegies mourn, and seek consolation for, a loss of some kind: the most common form of elegy is a lyric commemorating the death of a loved one. Greek elegiac meter, which is one source of what we know as the elegy today, is not normally associated with loss and mourning.

epic A long narrative poem that catalogues and celebrates heroic or historic deeds and events, usually focusing on a single heroic individual.

epigram A brief and pithy aphoristic observation, often satirical.

epitaph A tombstone inscription. Several famous poems end with the poet writing his own. (See, for example, Thomas Gray's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard" or W.B. Yeats's "Under Ben Bulben.")

epithalamion A song or poem that celebrates a wedding.

fable A brief tale about talking animals or objects, usually having a moral or pedagogical point, which is sometimes explicitly stated at the end. Aesop and la Fontaine are perhaps the most famous fable-writers.

georgic The agricultural cousin of pastoral, a georgic is a poem that celebrates rustic labor.

hymn A song of praise.

invective A personal, often abusive, denunciation.

lament An expression of grief.

light verse Poetry that is mostly for fun: this can mean anything from nonsense verse to folk songs, but typically there is a comical element to light verse.

lyric This genre encompasses a large portion of the world's poetry; in general, lyrics are fairly brief poems that emphasize musical qualities.

masque Courtly drama characterized by elaborate costumes and dances, as well as audience participation.

occasional verse Poetry written with reference to a particular event.

ode A long, serious meditation on an elevated subject, an ode can take one of three forms.

paean A song of joy or triumph.

palinode A recantation or retraction, usually of an earlier poem.

panegyric Poem or song in praise of a particular individual or object.

parody A comic imitation.

pastoral Originally a poem that depicted an idealized singing competition between shepherds, "pastoral" has come to denote almost anything to do with a rural setting, although it also refers to several specific categories of the genre. Associated genres of varying synonymity are idyll, bucolic, eclogue, and georgic.

psalm A sacred song.

riddle A puzzling question that relies on allegory or wordplay for its answer. Riddles are often short, and often include an answer to the question posed, albeit an unsatisfying one. The riddle of the Sphinx, which Oedipus solved, is a particularly famous example: "what walks on four legs in the morning, two at midday, and three in the afternoon?"

romance An adventure tale, usually set in a mythical or remote locale. Verse forms of the romance include the  Spanish ballad and  medieval or chivalric romance.

satire Ridicule of some kind, usually passing moral judgment.

tragedy This genre originated in ancient Greek verse drama and received extended treatment in Aristotle's Poetics, which made the downfall of the main character one of the criteria for tragedy. The genre has since expanded to include almost anything pertaining to a downfall.

verse epistle A letter written in verse, usually taking as its subject either a philosophical or a romantic question.

If these writing notes helped with your poem/story, please tag me. Or leave a link in the replies. I'd love to read them!

More: Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[your-nanas-house]

hi nana !

I’m currently under the weather with a chest infection):

Could you possibly write something fluffy for me with any of Cillians characters ??

Omg, darling 🥺 Hope you will recover quickly and that it's not too painful. 🍀 I did just 4 characters because I couldn't choose! And just little drabbles with soft/fluff moments. Let me know if you want other characters or something more specific!

'Lowering your guard'

◇ Pairing: Thomas Shelby X fem!Reader [(age gap) they are both off age]

His calloused fingers were rubbing slightly the skin of his nose as he pinched its bridge, a tired expression adorned his older face slightly hidden from his circulare shaped glasses

"I got it, eh... just come here" Tommy finally spit out gruffly, his usual cold eyes and stern look now softer than expected. His fingers pushed the glasses back in place before he gesturing you to approach his desk and armchair.

His thighs were already spread, his arms resting comfortably on the armrests ready to shift to hold your body as soon as you straddled him. His big hands, a bit dirty from the writing, started to rub your back, creating imaginary relaxing shapes.

The man didn't open his mouth, continuing to read through his papers as you rested on him, head on his broad shoulders and hands busy stroking his short hair.

.

◇ Pairing: Robert Fischer X fem!Reader (lovers)

Your gaze was blank, staring at the wall of the hotel room as you laid in bed. The sheets shielding your half naked body from the cool breeze, making your skin react with goosebumps.

The only lights there were the soft one of the moon, shining through the half closed curtains and the dim light of the rich bathroom where Robert was freshing himself up after the previous intimacy.

You were lost in your own world and thoughts, not realizing immediately the warm hands that sneaked up from your leg to the curve of your hip nor the breath against the back of your neck.

"Do you mind if we could cuddle?" His whisper coming out almost hesitantly; you didn't comment or reply. You just shifted your body closer so that Robert could easily spoon you with a small smile.

.

◇ Pairing: Patricia 'Kitten' Braden X fem!Reader (+ Charlie's child)

Your heartbeat was still racing from the lovely night you've spent with the woman next to you.

A lovely dinner, an amazing walk, and now a funny movie in an open cinema, in the cosiness of your car as you cuddle with her in the back seats

"I'm glad for this evening even if you had to bring your friend's Charlie kid along" you whisper, glancing down at the sleeping kid between you two.

Patricia didn't answer immediately, shifting her light eyes towards your face before offering you a tender smile and a kiss on your cheek, which left a beautiful mark made of her lip gloss.

.

◇ Pairing: Jonathan Crane X fem!Reader (professor x university student)

It was odd but strangely not unpleasant. When he asked you a couple of days ago to grab a coffee with him, your reaction was one of pure shock and hesitation, but now you were glad to have made the right decision... even if you were sitting in front of your professor in a cosy cafeteria.

The strong but sweet liquid warmed up your throat as you swallowed; your eyes focused on Jonathan, Dr. Crane, glancing from his piercing eyes to his charming smile as he kept talking about something you weren't quite catching.

A soft music could be heard from the intimate table he had chosen, making the atmosphere even more romantic. The good conversation was just an addictional point to the whole "soft package".

"If I can be honest, Miss— Y/n, If I may... I'm glad you agreed to this"

"Me too, professor— sorry, the habit... Jonathan"

[saorsawrites]

all worth it

Robert Chase x Reader

Fluff

Lazy evenings with chase after a long day of being annoyed by House

chases hand found the back of my neck, thumbs tracing small circles as he leant into me. slowly, his other hand slid its way down my side to my waist and squeezed reassuringly, his head now resting on my shoulder, face buried in my hair. i moved my hands around to his back and pulled him down fully, now lying on top of me; he let out a satisfied ‘hm’ and repositioned to make himself more comfortable, his legs intertwined with my own.

“you’re really tired, huh?” i murmured, bringing my hand to play with his hair, running the wet blond locks through my fingers. he nodded slowly, mumbling something about how glad he was to be home and showered. the shower we had shared was nothing short of this sleepy, him hunched over as he quickly washed himself and me standing under the boiling water watching him, hand pressed to his chest to keep him from falling asleep standing up. that’s what a 15 hour shift does to you. now, his wet chest is pressed against the old t shirt i was wearing, freckles littered down his spine more prominent than ever as i run one hand up and down his back, scratching lightly.

“you know,” he began, minty breath cold on my neck, “this makes it all worth it.”

“hm?” i responded, still playing with his hair, but now adjusting slightly so i could just about see his face as he turned to speak.

“no matter how long the days are, no matter how much of a dick house is being, no matter how shit the result is at the end of it all-“ he placed a small kiss on my jaw, humming before he said “coming back home with you, and getting to just lie here and forget about it all, makes me willing to do it over and over again.”

i held the back of his neck as he moved up to kiss me gently before returning to his old position again, nuzzling into my side as he became heavier on top of me. it wasn’t long - not with his soft snoring, and the familiar smell of his expensive shampoo - before i fell asleep too, our warm bodies still wrapped around each other.

it really does make it all worth it.

[zstartrixxx]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

ᵃ ᵛᵃᵐᵖᶦʳᵉ ᵗᵃˡᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵐᶦᶜᵏ ⁽ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ⁾

i wrote this quickly while listening to one of my biggest sources of creative inspiration: chelsea wolfe (i invite anyone who hasn’t heard her to give her a chance—she’s simply DIVINE); i mixed a little bit of everything: this anxious, obsessive need of mine for monsters, blood, and life&death, a little of my love for the movie "the witch" (robert eggers, 2015) and what i know from external sources about rituals and witchcraft—let’s say, internal sources from very close friends—and, of course, all my inherent madness about vampirism. (!!!) THAT SAID:  1.9k words, really short | +16 | vampirism (blood and explicit descriptions of self mutilation).  DISCLAIMER: — AMOR: in portuguese-brazilian, what is a direct inheritance from the latin "amor", which already had the same meaning of love and affection that we have today. — PLOP: onomatopoeia of blood, was the one i found most appropriate to fit the scene. — the word TRANSUBSTANTIATION literally means to change substance, implying the belief that some sort of change has taken place during communion. (this is a catholic belief but we will use it to our advantage in vampirism ;) for whoever is going to read it, a great read! <3 likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

𝖱𝖤𝖬𝖬𝖨𝖢𝖪 𝖯𝖫𝖠𝖸𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖳

ONCE, they told you horror stories to make you fear and sleep before the Devil’s hour.  

Tales of horned men wandering dead forests, seeking victims like you for slaughter. Stories of creatures half-man, half-dragon, emerging from caves to spit fire and butcher those who crossed their paths. Dark beings who slept through the ages by day and hunted virginal necks by night, draining warmth from bodies long dead to the sun’s touch.  

Terror stories to make the weak tremble at the Devil’s presence—bedtime fables meant to force children to sleep early, lest something pull at their feet beneath the covers. Legends of defilement and rotting flesh to chastise rebellious girls and boys.  

None of it meant anything to you. Absolutely nothing.  

You walked through the Forest of Amor, its towering canopy choking the frail autumn sun, dry leaves crunching under your bare feet, ancient roots twisting like Edenic serpents across the ground. You called him. In your hands, a dagger—pure silver hilt, blade sharpened with an archaic phrase carved in a forgotten tongue. Your gaze pierced the heart of that forest, once a meeting place for fervent lovers, where virginal blood once ran down maidens’ thighs and fatal kisses with poison hemlock sealed tragic, passionate ends.  

The deeper you ventured, the colder the air grew, whistling in your ears. The scent of damp earth dug up by wolves, dead and dried anthuriums and lilies, something strange you couldn’t yet name.  

The mud welcomed you ahead, clinging to your soles, but you didn’t care, marching toward the Slaughter Stone—a broad rock with a jagged peak, dark brown like an uneven altar, streaks of coagulated blood staining its surface. You raised your free hand, touching its rough surface, fingertips tracing tiny holes, realizing the strange scent came from here: dried blood, perhaps hours old, maybe a day. Metallic, like copper coins on the tongue, vinegar and rust. A shiver raced through you, your heart pounding between bone and flesh.  

The time had come.  

You called him.  

Called him.  

Him.  

The ritual was so simple it felt like child’s play. You raised your fist over the stone, pressed the blade to the tender skin of your wrist, pierced through, felt flesh split. A trickle of blood bloomed from the new wound, widening the gash, offering it as an announcement to that entity. Crimson spilled over your hand, embracing it, trailing down your arm, dripping like autumn rain onto the stone.  

Plop. Plop. Plop.  

Your wary eyes searched between the trees. Nothing.  

Plop. A rustle in the distance. Plop. Footsteps approaching from an untraceable direction. A howling moan, crows cawing, mocking your desperate act.  

Plop. Plop.

"You called me."  

The deep voice came from behind, brushing your left ear like a devil whispering damnation. You stayed still, arm still outstretched, blood flowing—until another hand appeared. Pale. Jeweled rings of rubies, diamonds, and sapphires adorning slender fingers with clawed nails, dried blood staining its grip. It closed around your wrist, too real to be a dream. It squeezed the wound, forcing a choked gasp from your lungs, your blood seeping between his fingers in thin rivulets.  

He repeated, calm:  

"You called me."  

Not a question. Never a question from him.  

A precise statement from one who had waited for your call for ages. You swallowed your foolish doubts, nodded slowly, feeling his other hand grip your shoulder, a body pressing against yours. The icy tip of a nose nuzzled your neck, inhaling your jugular’s pulse with a guttural groan—your scent: cold sweat, wild strawberries, dried violets, and pure blood. A delicacy for a vampire like him.  

Remmick laughed, strained, fangs glistening before his offering.  

"Yes, I called you," your voice echoed too loudly in your own ears as his grip loosened. His hand slid from your shoulder down your arm, trailing ghostly vibrations—the echoes of his past victims—before seizing your waist, turning you to face him. Your eyes were shut, not from fear of seeing him, but from fear of facing the divine.  

"Open your eyes, sweet offering. I’m not so hideous…" he mocked, the hand that had staunched your wound now smearing your cheek with your own blood.  

You obeyed.  

Before you stood the most beautiful monster: fangs bared in a smile, eyes like falling stars burning through a storm-wracked sky, hair dark as a funeral shroud, skin pale as a death tulip. And in his gaze—affection.  

A tenderness you never needed, which was exactly why you were here, flesh and soul, for him. Remmick. You knew his name the moment he looked at you, whispered through the branches, spat by crows.  

"What brought you to me?" he asked, thumb tracing shapes on your cheekbone. You couldn’t look away, hypnotized by his bloody beauty.  

"I came to surrender to everything you can give me, Remmick. If the tales about you weren’t lies—"  

"I adore how you all see me as the solution to your problems, little thing," he sneered, stepping back, leaving a void between you. Had you failed? His eyes studied you.  

"That’s not what I want to hear."  

You inhaled sharply, still bleeding, still clutching the dagger, senses fraying. But you forced out the words he demanded:  

"I cannot save myself. Maybe neither can you, vampire. But all I desire is to belong to something real. To oppose everything they told me was sin. To be free. Carnal."  

Remmick arched a brow, uncrossing his arms, something like understanding flickering in his gaze.  

"Are you certain? Once done, there’s no return." He jerked a thumb behind him.  

You nodded feverishly, extending the dagger.  

"If I’m here, I have no doubts about my pact with Death."  

Remmick smiled.  

Fangs gleamed. His head tilted slightly, eyes blazing beastial. Crows laughed. Wolves howled your fate.  

He took the dagger, smoke curling from his palm, ignored the sting, and yanked you against him in a funeral embrace that shuddered through your bones. He bent to your level, eye to eye, fang to fang, breath reeking of clotted blood:  

"Do you not fear God’s wrath?"  

"I don’t fear Him. Or the dead."  

"And what do you think I am, my offering?" His scent—decay and chaos—filled your lungs, thick saliva dripping from his lips to yours. The dagger’s tip pressed to your jugular.  

"A monster. But real. Flesh, bone, and venom. Here with me."  

Serene, you welcomed the dark veil closing in.  

Remmick grinned, cradling your skull, forcing you back against the stone, blade scraping where your pulse throbbed.  

"You’re right. Only I could grant such a gift to lost souls like you." His voice dripped with ego.  

"Then sign your name in blood for me."  

He stabbed.  

Blood gushed into his mouth as he kissed you—a kiss of teeth, torn flesh, hollow and deep. Scarlet filled your vision: tree canopies, wailing ghosts, his acid venom. Glory. You smiled over his shoulder, sinking onto the stone, clinging to Remmick as he groaned with laconic pleasure, devouring you.  

Death.  

It wrapped you in cutting comfort, lifting your soul while anchoring you to earth. Remmick drank you—blood and spirit—stealing the warmth of your life.  

"Open your eyes, my creature."  

You awoke from that consuming sleep, body scorched, memories of old hymns and curses flooding back. When you opened your eyes, the world was new: the sky glittered brighter, the stench of leaves and rotting animals filled lungs that no longer breathed as before, bloodthirst burning your throat, a feral glow in your eyes.  

Remmick was gone.  

You rose slowly, skin hypersensitive to every twig’s touch, your dried blood adorning your new home—the transubstantiation from human to vampire. Naked, you walked toward a bonfire where others like you stood, eyes gleaming under the dark sky.  

And there he was—Remmick, clapping, dancing to a Celtic tune, extending a clawed hand to invite you.  

You danced.  

Floating above the treetops, laughing in blood and ecstasy, celebrating the feast of flesh and communion with the Devil.  

You had never been happier in your entire life.

this also has a connection with my other story, which follows the same vibe, but with my other great muse, emma ruth rundle: DIONYSUS ONCE KNEW ME.

[novaursa]

Legacy (of bloodline)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: dragonstone

- Next part: castle black

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi @alkadri-layal

- A/N: Merry Christmas! 🎄❤️

The sun was beginning its descent over the jagged peaks of Dragonstone, casting long shadows across the courtyard. The salty tang of the Narrow Sea lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of smoke from the distant forges. You sat on a stone bench beneath the arch of an ancient alcove, your gaze fixed on the rolling waves beyond the castle walls. Damon played nearby, toddling around with a carved wooden dragon in his chubby hands, his laughter ringing out like a melody against the stillness of the evening.

Standing a short distance away, Ser Barristan Selmy, clad in his gleaming white armor, observed you with the same vigilance he had honed over decades. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, though his demeanor was calm, almost contemplative.

"You’ve been awfully quiet, Ser Barristan," you said softly, not turning to look at him. "I’m used to you offering wisdom, not silence."

The old knight allowed a faint smile, though his eyes remained watchful. "It’s not often I find myself with nothing to say, my lady," he replied. "But watching over you and your son has reminded me of… other times."

You glanced at him, curiosity flickering in your violet eyes. "Other times? Do you mean my father?"

Ser Barristan hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. "Your father, yes," he said finally. "But also your brother. And your house. I’ve served many Targaryens, my lady, each of you unique."

You nodded faintly, folding your hands in your lap. "And how do we compare to them?"

He chuckled softly, a rare sound. "It’s not a comparison, my lady. It’s a legacy. One that you carry with grace… and fire."

"Fire," you repeated, your voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and solemnity. "That seems to be all anyone sees in us. Fire and blood."

"That is your house’s motto," he said gently. "But it is also its truth. You wield both with wisdom, my lady. Not many can claim the same."

Your gaze drifted back to Damon, who was now crouched in the dirt, intently examining a line of ants. His innocence, his unbridled joy in the simplest of things, made your heart ache with both love and fear. "Sometimes, I wonder if that fire will consume us all," you said quietly.

Ser Barristan stepped closer, his tone firm but kind. "Fire, when tamed, can be a tool. A light in the darkness. It is only when it is left unchecked that it becomes destructive."

You met his gaze, searching for the wisdom behind his words. "Do you believe my fire can be tamed?"

He hesitated again, his expression thoughtful. "I believe it already has been," he said finally. "By your love for your son. And by the choices you make each day."

A soft smile touched your lips as you looked back at Damon, who was now holding up his wooden dragon as though it could truly fly. "He is my world," you admitted softly. "Everything I do is for him."

"As it should be," Ser Barristan said, his voice warm with approval. "You are a mother before anything else, my lady. That is a strength few can match."

You turned back to him, a question lingering in your eyes. "And yet, there are those who would see that as weakness. Who would take it and twist it against me."

Ser Barristan’s expression hardened slightly, his hand tightening on his sword hilt. "Let them try," he said simply. "They will find no weakness in you, only resolve."

You let out a quiet laugh, though it carried a note of gratitude. "You always know what to say, Ser Barristan."

"It is my duty to protect you, my lady," he said, bowing his head slightly. "Not just with my sword, but with my counsel."

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sounds Damon’s laughter and the distant crash of waves against the cliffs. Finally, you spoke again, your voice quieter now.

"Do you ever wonder if my father saw any of this coming?" you asked. "The dragons returning, the battles for power, the… uncertainty of it all?"

Ser Barristan’s face grew somber, his gaze distant. "Your father… saw many things, my lady. Some of them real, others… the product of his mind’s decline. But I do believe he knew that the Targaryen fire would one day burn brightly again. Perhaps he saw it in you."

You nodded slowly, absorbing his words. "Perhaps," you murmured. "Or perhaps he simply wanted to believe it, even as the fire consumed him."

Ser Barristan said nothing, his silence a quiet acknowledgment of the truth in your words. But as the sun set lower, casting the courtyard in warm hues, you felt a flicker of hope amid the uncertainty.

For now, at least, you were not alone. And with Damon’s laughter filling the air and Ser Barristan’s steadfast presence by your side, you felt ready to face whatever the future held.

The courtyard of Dragonstone was filled with the sounds of clinking steel and the rhythmic stomp of boots as a few soldiers sparred near the barracks. The volcanic rock beneath their feet radiated a faint warmth even in the cool sea breeze, a constant reminder of the island’s fiery heart. The castle’s dark spires loomed overhead, their ancient stone stark against the pale sky.

Tywin Lannister stood at the edge of the courtyard, his posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back. His pale green eyes surveyed the activity below with his usual air of authority, though his expression betrayed no particular interest in the proceedings.

Beside him, Jaime Lannister, clad in his gilded armor, leaned against the stone parapet, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He tilted his head slightly, watching the men train as the sea wind ruffled his hair.

“Still feels strange,” Jaime said, breaking the silence.

Tywin’s gaze didn’t waver. “What does?”

“This,” Jaime replied, gesturing broadly to the castle around them. “A Lannister living here, ruling Dragonstone. If you’d told me a few years ago, I’d have laughed.”

Tywin turned his head slightly, fixing Jaime with a cool stare. “And yet, here we are. You’d do well to adjust.”

Jaime chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Oh, I’ve adjusted, Father. Believe me. It’s just surreal, that’s all. The House of the Lion, sitting comfortably in the lair of dragons.” He glanced at Tywin, his smirk widening. “You have to admit, it’s not exactly what anyone expected.”

Tywin’s lips tightened, though his tone remained measured. “The unexpected often proves the most valuable, provided one knows how to use it.”

Jaime turned back to the sparring men, his tone turning more reflective. “And what of Damon? One day, all of this will be his—Dragonstone, Casterly Rock. It’s a lot for a boy who hasn’t yet seen his second name day.”

Tywin’s gaze flickered toward the horizon, his expression unreadable. “He is my son. He will learn.”

Jaime raised a brow, his voice tinged with amusement. “You sound confident.”

“I am,” Tywin said simply. “Damon is young, but he carries the blood of two powerful houses. He has his mother’s intelligence, and he will have my discipline. He will be prepared.”

Jaime nodded thoughtfully, though his tone remained light. “And what if he doesn’t want all this? What if he grows up and decides he’d rather ride away from all this and live a simple life?”

Tywin’s gaze snapped to Jaime, his eyes sharp. “A Lannister does not have the luxury of simplicity. Damon will understand his duty, just as you were meant to.”

Jaime held up his golden hand in mock surrender, though his smirk didn’t falter. “Relax, Father. I’m not questioning your plans. I’m just… imagining.”

Tywin’s expression softened slightly—though only slightly—as he returned his gaze to the courtyard. “Damon’s future will not be left to imagination. He will have what is his by right, and he will rule it with strength.”

Jaime studied his father for a moment, his smirk fading. “You care for him, don’t you? I mean, really care for him.”

Tywin didn’t answer immediately, his eyes fixed on the sparring men below. “I care for my family. And Damon is the future of that family.”

Jaime nodded slowly, his tone quieter now. “He’s lucky, you know. To have you here.”

Tywin glanced at Jaime, his expression softening imperceptibly. “He will need more than luck, Jaime. The world is not kind to those who inherit power. It will test him, as it tests us all.”

Jaime said nothing for a moment, his gaze drifting to the distant sea. Finally, he let out a quiet chuckle. “Well, if nothing else, at least he’ll have the Rock and this… charming fortress of Y/N’s. A lion ruling a dragon’s lair. It has a certain poetry to it, doesn’t it?”

Tywin allowed himself the faintest of smiles, though it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Poetry has no place in politics, Jaime. This is about legacy.”

“And Damon is that legacy,” Jaime said, his tone laced with a rare sincerity.

Tywin inclined his head slightly, his gaze returning to the courtyard below. “Indeed. And I will see that he is ready for it.”

The two men stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air. The distant crash of waves against the cliffs echoed through the courtyard, a reminder of the unyielding strength of Dragonstone and the family now tied to its destiny.

The evening air on was heavy with the scent of salt and the faint metallic tang of volcanic rock. Outside, the sea crashed rhythmically against the cliffs, the sound both soothing and ominous in the quiet of the night.

You sat in a high-backed chair near the fire, your hands loosely clasped in your lap. The soft fabric of your gown pooled around your feet, and the golden glow of the flames danced across your silver hair. Tywin Lannister stood at the window, his silhouette sharp against the moonlight as he gazed out at the endless expanse of water. His presence filled the room as it always did, commanding even in stillness.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was not uncomfortable, but weighted with the thoughts each of you carried. Finally, you broke the quiet, your voice steady but soft. “Tywin.”

He turned to look at you, his green eyes reflecting the firelight. “Yes?”

You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts. “I’ve been thinking… about what we discussed last week.”

He raised a brow, his expression curious but guarded. “And?”

You shifted slightly in your seat, your fingers brushing the edge of the armrest. “About having another child,” you said quietly. “I’ve thought about it—truly—and I’ve decided… I’m willing.”

Tywin’s gaze sharpened, though he did not immediately respond. He stepped away from the window, crossing the room with measured steps until he stood before you. “You’ve made up your mind?” he asked, his tone calm but probing.

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “I have. Damon is a blessing, Tywin, and he deserves a sibling. Someone to share his duty with. And I… I want this.”

For a moment, Tywin said nothing, his expression unreadable as he studied you. Then, he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your cheek before resting beneath your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. “You’re certain?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“I am,” you replied firmly, your violet eyes unwavering. “It’s not just for Damon, or for the legacy. It’s for us.”

A flicker of something softer passed through Tywin’s eyes, though his composure remained steady. He nodded slowly, his hand lingering for a moment before he stepped back. “You’ve always understood the weight of what we carry,” he said, his tone laced with something resembling approval. “This is no small decision.”

“I know,” you said softly, standing to face him. “But it’s the right one. And it’s one I want to make with you.”

Tywin’s expression softened—just barely—as he reached for your hand, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. “You’ve always been strong, Y/N,” he said, his voice carrying an edge of rare affection. “Stronger than most realize. Perhaps stronger than I deserve.”

You smiled faintly, squeezing his hand. “You deserve more than you allow yourself to believe, Tywin. And you will be a father worthy of both our children.”

For a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift, leaving only the quiet intimacy of the room and the connection between you. Tywin leaned forward, his lips brushing softly against your forehead before resting his hand at the small of your back.

“We’ll do this,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “For Damon. For our family.”

You rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat filled the silence. In that moment, there was no fire, no blood, no legacy weighing you down—only the promise of the future and the strength you found in each other.

Ten moons later

The chambers within Dragonstone were low lit, the heavy drapes pulled to block out the rising storm outside. The air was thick with the mingled scents of burning herbs, seawater carried in by the howling winds, and the faint metallic tang of blood. The hearth blazed brightly, its warmth doing little to stave off the tension in the room.

You lay propped against a mound of pillows on a sturdy birthing bed, your silver hair damp and clinging to your flushed skin. The midwives bustled around you, their soft murmurs blending with the distant rumble of thunder. A damp cloth dabbed at your forehead, its coolness providing brief relief against the heat building within you.

Nearby, Tywin Lannister stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his gaze locked on you. He was a looming figure of composure, though the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed the concern he refused to voice.

“You’re certain you won’t allow the maester?” one of the midwives asked tentatively, her hands wringing a clean linen cloth. Her voice was calm but edged with worry.

Your gaze flickered toward her, and despite the pain gripping your body, your tone was firm. “I’ve told you already—no maesters. I trust you, not their potions and knives.”

The midwife bowed her head, murmuring, “Of course, my lady.”

Tywin’s gaze narrowed slightly as he stepped closer to the bedside. “You’ve always been stubborn,” he said, his voice low but carrying its usual authority. “But if this becomes difficult, you will reconsider.”

You turned your head slightly to look at him, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite the beads of sweat on your brow. “If I endured Damon’s birth without them, I can endure this.”

“This child may be different,” Tywin countered, his tone measured but edged with concern.

“Every birth is different,” one of the midwives interjected gently, glancing nervously between the two of you. “But Lady Y/N is strong, my lord. She’ll manage.”

“I always do,” you whispered, though your words were cut off by a sharp gasp as another wave of pain gripped your body.

Your fingers tightened around the edge of the sheets, but you refused to scream. The sound that escaped your lips was more of a muffled yelp, barely audible over the crackling of the fire. The midwives exchanged worried glances but continued their work, checking the progress of the birth with practiced hands.

Tywin’s jaw clenched as he watched you, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You don’t need to swallow your pain,” he said quietly, his tone softer than usual. “There’s no shame in it.”

You shook your head weakly, your breath coming in shallow pants. “It’s not… shame,” you managed to say, your voice strained but determined. “It’s control. I won’t let this… defeat me.”

His gaze softened fractionally, though his face remained impassive. “Stubborn, as always.”

You let out a faint chuckle, though it turned into a sharp inhale as another contraction rolled through your body. One of the midwives stepped forward, adjusting the pillows behind you and murmuring soothing words you barely registered.

“How far along?” Tywin asked the head midwife, his voice calm but clipped.

“Still early, my lord,” she replied cautiously, wiping her hands on her apron. “It may take some time yet.”

Tywin nodded curtly, his gaze returning to you. “I’m staying,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

You glanced at him, your lips twitching into a faint smirk despite the pain. “I didn’t expect otherwise.”

The storm outside grew louder, the wind howling like a dragon’s roar as rain lashed against the windows. Inside the chamber, the anxiety was at a high, every movement and sound magnified by the weight of the moment.

You gritted your teeth as another contraction built, your hands gripping the edge of the bed. The midwives hovered nearby, their voices low but reassuring, as they prepared for what was to come.

The storm outside raged on, its fury mirrored in the intensity of the final moments of your labor. Thunder rolled across Dragonstone, shaking the ancient walls as rain lashed against the windows in unrelenting torrents. 

You gripped the edges of the birthing bed, your knuckles white with effort. The midwives hovered around you, their voices calm but firm, guiding you through each agonizing moment. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your hair plastered to your forehead as the tension in the room built to a crescendo.

“Almost there, my lady,” the head midwife said, her tone both encouraging and resolute. “Just one more push.”

You nodded weakly, summoning the last reserves of your strength. With a guttural sound that was more force than scream, you bore down, your body trembling with the effort. The pain was blinding, searing through every nerve, but then, like the breaking of a storm, there was release.

A sharp cry pierced the air—a new life taking its first breath.

The midwives moved quickly, their hands gentle yet practiced as they swaddled the infant in clean linen. The head midwife turned to you with a wide smile, her face flushed with relief and joy. “It’s a boy, my lady.”

You let out a shaky breath, your body sinking back into the pillows as the weight of the moment washed over you. Your heart pounded in your chest, but a sense of overwhelming relief and love began to fill the void left by the pain.

Tywin, who had remained a steady presence by your side, stepped closer, his attention fixed on the squirming bundle in the midwife’s arms. His expression was unreadable, though his gaze softened as the midwife handed him the child.

“Here, my lord,” she said, bowing her head slightly as she placed the infant into Tywin’s arms.

For a moment, Tywin stood perfectly still, his strong hands cradling the newborn with a gentleness that seemed almost uncharacteristic. The child’s tiny fists waved in the air, his cries strong and fierce, as though already asserting himself in the world.

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze unwavering as he studied his son. “He’s strong,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an edge of approval.

You watched the scene through half-lidded eyes, exhaustion pulling at you even as a faint smile graced your lips. “What will you name him?” you asked softly, your voice hoarse from the effort of labor.

Tywin’s gaze shifted to you, his expression briefly unreadable before he looked back down at the infant. He was silent for a long moment, the weight of his decision felt in the room.

“Maelor,” he said finally, his voice firm and deliberate. “Maelor Lannister.”

The name hung in the air, resonating with strength and tradition. It was a name that carried the weight of both Targaryen and Lannister heritage—another bridge between fire and gold.

The midwives exchanged glances, murmuring their approval as they began tidying the room. One of them approached to take the child from Tywin, but he held up a hand, his gaze fixed on his son.

“I’ll take him to his mother,” Tywin said, his tone brooking no argument.

The midwife hesitated, then stepped back with a nod. Tywin moved to your side, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed as he gently placed Maelor into your arms. The baby’s cries softened as he settled against you, his tiny face scrunching in curiosity as he opened his violet eyes for the first time.

You gazed down at him, tears welling in your eyes as you ran a finger gently over his cheek. “Maelor,” you whispered, tasting the name as though it were a gift.

Tywin’s hand rested on your shoulder, a rare gesture of affection that spoke volumes. “He will be strong,” he said quietly. “Like his mother.”

You glanced up at him, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “And cunning, like his father.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Tywin allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to cross his lips. “A good combination,” he said simply.

The storm outside began to subside, the thunder growing distant as the rain softened to a steady patter. Inside the chamber, the atmosphere shifted, the anxiety giving way to a quiet, shared sense of triumph.

The great hall of Dragonstone was alive with subdued activity, the ancient volcanic stone echoing with the murmurs of lords, knights, and attendants who had gathered to await word. Despite the flickering firelight from the massive hearth, a chill hung in the air—an notion born of expectation. Large banners, emblazoned with both the lion of House Lannister and the sigil of House Targaryen, adorned the walls, their contrasting colors a stark reminder of the union that had shaped the future of this hall.

At the far end of the chamber, Tywin Lannister appeared, his stride purposeful as he descended the steps from the private corridors that led to the birthing chambers. His crimson cloak, lined with gold, swept the floor behind him, and his eyes were sharp, commanding the attention of everyone present. The room quieted instantly, a silence falling like the weight of a drawn blade.

Tywin paused at the head of the hall, his gaze sweeping over the crowd with the precision of a general surveying his troops. Without preamble, his voice rang out, strong and steady.

“My wife has given birth to a son,” he declared, his words echoing through the vast space. “He is healthy and strong. His name is Maelor Lannister.”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the hall, the gathered lords and knights exchanging nods and whispers of approval. Tywin allowed the moment to settle before continuing, his tone brooking no dissent.

“Let the celebrations proceed,” he commanded. “But with restraint. The child’s health and my wife’s recovery take precedence. Keep your revelry within reason.”

The hall erupted in a wave of applause and cheers, though they were tempered, as if even the joy of the occasion bowed to Tywin’s authority. Goblets were raised, and servants scurried to ensure the wine flowed freely.

At the edge of the hall, Ser Barristan Selmy, ever vigilant, lingered near the entrance to the private chambers. His armor caught the flickering firelight as he stood with one hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword. His watchful eyes scanned the crowd, noting every movement and face with the precision of a seasoned knight.

It was then that he spotted Varys, the spymaster’s unmistakable figure leaning casually against a column. Varys’s hands were folded neatly in front of him, his silken robes flowing as he inclined his head in greeting toward Ser Barristan. His smile was subtle, yet unmistakable—a smile that spoke of secrets known and yet to be revealed.

Ser Barristan frowned slightly, his expression hardening as he straightened. “You seem… pleased,” he said, his tone careful but edged with suspicion.

Varys’s smile widened faintly as he stepped closer, his soft footsteps barely audible against the stone. “It is always a joy to witness the continuation of a noble bloodline,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying the practiced calm of a man accustomed to intrigue. “And what a bloodline it is, Ser Barristan. Another son born of lion and dragon. A moment worthy of the histories.”

Barristan’s hand remained steady on his sword. “And what role do you imagine yourself playing in this history, Lord Varys?”

Varys chuckled softly, his gaze flitting briefly toward Tywin at the head of the hall. “Why, none at all. I am but an observer, Ser Barristan. A humble servant of the realm, as ever.”

The knight’s gaze didn’t waver. “Some would call your humility suspect.”

“Some would,” Varys admitted, his smile never faltering. “But we each have our roles to play, do we not?”

Before Barristan could respond, Jaime Lannister approached his father, he strode through the crowd with his characteristic ease. His golden hand rested casually at his side, his expression equal parts curious and amused.

“Father,” Jaime said, his voice cutting through the murmurs around them as he came to stand beside Tywin. “So, another lion to the den. You must be pleased.”

Tywin turned to face Jaime, his expression as impassive as ever. “I am,” he said simply. “Maelor will strengthen our family’s future.”

Jaime smirked faintly, tilting his head. “You’ve always been about the future. What about the present? Will we be allowed to see him, or is he to remain cloistered with his mother for the next year?”

Tywin’s gaze narrowed slightly, his tone sharp. “Your new brother is with his mother, where he belongs. You’ll see him in due time.”

Jaime raised a brow, his smirk widening. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to disrupt the carefully laid plans.”

Tywin didn’t rise to the bait, his focus returning to the hall. “This is not the time for your flippancy, Jaime. This is a moment for the family, and for the legacy we build.”

Jaime glanced toward the gathered lords and ladies, raising his golden hand in mock surrender. “Far be it from me to interrupt the legacy.”

Nearby, Varys’s gaze lingered on the Lannisters, his expression thoughtful as the celebration continued. Ser Barristan kept his eyes on the spymaster, his unease unspoken but palpable.

As the wine flowed and the hall buzzed with muted revelry, the weight of the evening hung heavy in the air. The birth of Maelor Lannister was not just a moment of joy—it was a statement, a promise, and a warning to all who dared to challenge the combined strength of lion and dragon.

And though the great hall was filled with warmth and light, shadows loomed at the edges, whispering of the challenges yet to come.

[didishawn]

Leganés (Pedri x Reader)

warnings: lots of spanish, whatever last night was, angst because of the team's results, comfort, really short because I have to get back into the grind

Masterlist

"Te juro que me parece de coña ya esto" you watched as you boyfriend stomped around the room, face flushed and anger in his tone as he spoke. (I swear this feels like some sick joke)

Another loss for Barcelona, more dropped points, only 1 game won out of the last five, the perfect October run so far away.

They were in good shape in the Champions, but what did it matter when it felt as if they were throwing away La Liga?

"Y es que encima parece que siempre me toca a mí hablar tras toda la mierda de los partidos, ¿no me pueden dejar llegar tranquilo a casa para llorar?' (To add to it, it seems it's always my turn to speak after these shitty matches. Can't they just let me peacefully come home to cry?)

You hated seeing him like this, he loves Barça and it breaks him whenever things go like this.

He could have been the best on the pitch, yet he always blames himself.

"Si es que soy inútil, ni un gol puedo meter para ayudar al equipo, ¿de que mierda me sirven todos los pases si no puedo encarar a portería?" (I'm useless, can't even score a goal to help the team, what are all those shitty passes for if I can't serve when facing the goalie?)

"Pepi, sabes que no es tu culpa. Hay veces que no se da y no por eso tenemos que perder la fé, todavia queda mucha liga por delante" (Pepi, you know its not you fault. Sometimes things just don't go your way but it doesn't mean we have to lose faith. There is still so much of the league to look forward to)

"Joder pero si es que parecemos dos equipos completamente distintos aquí que en Champions" he sighed, dropping next to you in the couch, head resting on your shoulder "Encima verás Flick mañana, voy a llegar sin piernas a casa, encima nos lo merecemos" (Fuck but it's as if we were two completely different teams here than in Champions... You will see Flick tomorrow, I will be coming back home without legs, and it's worse because we actually deserve it)

"Solo os tocará dejar de confiaros tanto a veces, y dejad de veniros tan abajo, un gol no es el fin del mundo, y al final todos son capaces de remontar" (You all just have to stop being so overconfident, and also stop depressing yourselves, a goal it's not the end of the goal and in the end, everyone can do a comeback)

"Espero que sepas que me tendrás que hacer de portera en casa hasta que me veas metiendo 5 goles por partido" he burrowed his face on your neck, you knew that meant a topic change. (I hope you know you will have to play goalkeeper until you see me scoring 5 goals per game)

"Vamos a dejar a Robert sin trabajo" (We will leave Robert jobless)

You knew how hard it was all for him, he was finally coming back from all those injuries, was playing the best he had in almost years, and to see all his hard work not giving him the expected results, it was depressing him, harming him. You sometimes wished it could always be just you and him cuddling in your couch, no preoccupations to harm you.

You believed in your boyfriend, he only had to believe in himself too, because the problem with Pedri was just that.

Doesn't matter if he had the whole world praising him, if he lost, even if he was playing with a team in the seventh division of some lost country -not the case, you know the team just didn't have the night, Pedri would blame himself even if he scored 100 goals and they lost against 101.

You felt him sigh against your shoulder. His anger phage was over at least, grumpy one starting.

"...¿Querés jugar al FIFA tú como el Barça y yo como el Leganés y destrozarme?" (...You want to play FIFA you as Barça and me as Leganés and completely destroy me?)

"Si, por favor" (Yes, please)