Maedayarchive - Charmae

at your service • e. jaeger

synopsis: after an injury, your husband is more than happy to care for you.

content warning: influencer reader, super cute fluff, eren giving (y/n) princess treatment, mentions of bodily harm and injury, slight angst, tiny mentions of sex, casual dominance

📝: just some cute fluff with our favorite rapper because I need the comfort today and I couldn’t stop thinking about domestic musician eren. 🥹 he just does sum to me.

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“Is that right? Well, that’s unfortunate but I really don’t give a damn. My wife is hurt and there’s no way I’m leaving her side. Find somebody else.”

(Y/N) could hear the intense conversation transpiring between your husband and whoever was on the other line out of earshot. As per, Eren was being his irate self. Blowing off a performance that he just wasn’t interested in doing. He had been contacted by the directors of the University of Miami in hopes of getting him to headline at their annual homecoming festival. Which always featured some of the biggest stars. Granted, he might have taken the gig if he were bored enough and had absolutely nothing else to do but he couldn’t be vexed. Especially when his precious baby was lying in bed, leg elevated on a stack of pillows and wrapped in a cast. Your arm? Bandaged up and damaged from the result of a nasty fall during a routine at a concert. Somehow, the stage crew forgot to bolt your pole to the floor correctly and as you went for your solo, it went crashing and carried you with it! An eight foot drop that was more painful than anything you had ever felt: The footage went viral, as did many things you did nowadays and everyone was terrified for you. You let everyone know you were fine but would be out of commission for a while…as you had experienced two hairline fractures and a bruised rib. Needless to say, Eren was livid and after rushing to the hospital to ensure you were okay, he rushed to the venue to find the people responsible. Raising hell that no one was ready for.

for now, you were stuck recovering at home while your girls finished out the remainder of the tour without you. It was a bummer and your spirits were a bit crushed…

“Go ahead, I’m still not coming. So you can tell the college, AMG and whoever else to kiss my ass. (Y/N) is the only person I’m leaving this house for. Ask me again and I’ll quit right now. Don’t call me for shit else. Goodbye.”

luckily, you had the most handsome nurse on the planet to care for you! EJ hadn’t even so much as thought of a studio or anyone else. Staying by your bedside, waiting on you hand and foot once you returned from the hospital. He had just finished up his call and headed straight back to check on you. “Hey princess…how are you feeling? In any pain or anything? Something I can get you?” His sweet words followed by a gentle hand caressing the side of your face, followed by a kiss to the forehead. He knelt down beside you, swiping his thumb over your hand. Even in this state, he glared at you as if you were the most beautiful thing in the world. Currently, you were tucked into bed, surrounded by plushies, games, flowers, books and all things synonymous with a get well soon package. He had spent hundreds, if not thousands in a matter of days on beautiful bouquets and gifts to brighten your mood. He wanted to ensure that you didn’t go stir crazy or get FOMO while you were home so he ensured that your girls got to chat with you every day on FaceTime, watching them practice which made you feel better. Knowing they’d do everything in their power to make it the best show possible in your absence. Your fans poured into your DM’s and mentions, wishing you well and showing their love with edits of their favorite influencer and dancer. And you even made sure to hop on live when the pain medication wasn’t taking its toll. Even you guys’ housekeepers were working later just to ensure the lady of the estate had all she needed. A testament to your character and how well you both had treated them. Something many celebrities failed to do. It felt good to know that you were so adored. Turning your head to face your sweetheart, you’d run a hand underneath his chin and return his peck. The concern on his face was taking its toll and you had to remind him that you were just fine!

“I’m okayyyy, my love. I’m more worried about you. Have you even slept? And did you just cancel ANOTHER gig?”

a question he truly did not want to answer out of fear of you getting upset. Because truth was, he hadn’t been able to sleep much knowing that his princess was in pain. Hearing you wince from a cough that caused your rib to hurt or when your casts began to itch and couldn’t be touched. He couldn’t stand it..more so, he couldn’t stomach the thought of what could’ve been? What if you were in the midst of one of your more insane stunts? Ones where you were twenty feet in the air, dropping at insane speed to match the artist’s rhythm..only God knows how that would’ve ended. But even so, he was still going to do everything in his power to ensure your comfortability. Regardless of if it were at the cost of his own rest or reputation. All of his projects were on hold for further notice, his performances postponed and a meet and greet put on the back burner. A small sacrifice for his sweetheart he’d make any day. And he didn’t care who didn’t like it..

“Me? I’m good! I had a nap on the couch earlier so I’m straight. You though? You need to eat. When you’re done, I’ll help you get a bath and I can do your hair for you..I picked up some of that oil for your braids that you use. Your stylist told me everything to get.”

so typical of him..going above and beyond to make sure that everyone of your needs were met. Not changing word, not getting frustrated or angry once. Planning things out and thinking ahead so you didn’t have to. Almost as if he were glad to do it. He made your life so much easier and honestly, you couldn’t wait to get better so that you could pounce on him and thank your husband for all his hard work. You had heard and experienced first hand the horror stories of women getting left by their spouses when they’re sick or hurt. How calloused men could be. Your own ex would avoid you like the plague when you so much as got a common cold! So this was new to you but much more inviting. Thinking about it sometimes made you want to tear up..which was inevitable at this point.

eren would soon turn his head amid his prideful rant, feeling accomplished in doing something right to find your eyes welling up. “Wait, did I say something wrong?! I’m sorry if I—“ to which you’d halt with a laugh afterwards. “No..not at all. It’s just that..I’ve never had anyone be this nice to me before I met you. I’m thankful, ‘s all. I’m so sorry for burdening you with all of this.” To which, you’d find yourself immediately thrusted into a hug and a kiss to follow. Cupping a palm around your cheek, Eren delicately brushed away those tears and kept you in his grasp. “Stop it..that’s my job, princess. To make sure that you’re always taken care of. You’re the most precious thing in my life and the best to ever happen to me. I’d do anything to keep a smile on that pretty face of yours. I love you, (y/n) and I’d do this a million times over. So please, don’t ever apologize.” You had never seen such sincerity in his face. ‘Though sickness and health’ wasn’t just some empty vow for him. He meant every word and he was going to fulfill his promise of loving you unconditionally until hr drew his last breath. You were his entire world and nothing..not even a broken leg could change that. He didn’t love you any less because of it. “..Oh..Eren. I love you so much..” “I’m serious, princess. Don’t ever forget that. I love you more.” The two of you would seal your declaration with a deep kiss and do away with any sad thoughts. Hopping up immediately after, he’d return to his normally silly self and head off towards the bathroom. “Now that that’s settled, I’ll be right back. Don’t you go anywhere.” Having to get at least one joke off on you. Which prompted you to smack your lips and giggle. “Where are you going anyways?” “To get the nail polish and face masks. My gorgeous girl deserves to be spoiled.” That and the fact that he thoroughly enjoyed doing it too. You were certain he’d have no problem getting comfortable with tending to all of your beauty needs in absence of your normal routine. Shaking your head, you merely chuckle.

“You know, I’m starting think you’re having far too much fun with this.”

which was fine, because he was happy to be at your service.

The interview

Could you imagine Rupert giving an interview and the interviewer gets stuck on the subject of how Rupert romanced and married his own personal Goddess. I sort of feel like this could be a little series. What do you think?

The laughter died down as the interviewer leaned forward, adjusting his notecards with deliberate care. The transition was subtle, but the shift in tone was palpable. The studio lights above cast a soft, golden glow, bathing the set in a comforting warmth, while the audience, now quieter, leaned forward in anticipation. The mood had gone from the easy, playful banter of the earlier portion of the interview to something a little more serious, a little more probing. It was a subtle change, but one that both Rupert and the audience could feel.

"Now, let’s get into something a little more serious," the interviewer said, his tone shifting as he folded the notecards carefully in his hands. "You’re widely regarded as the best Minister of Sport this country has ever seen, so why did you never go for Prime Minister? You must have been tempted, right? I mean, it seems like it would be the logical next step for someone with your… profile."

Rupert Campbell-Black gave a slow, almost lazy smile. He leaned back into his chair, exuding the kind of effortless confidence that had made him a household name—not just in politics, but in sports, in business, and in the social circles that buzzed around them all. His dark eyes gleamed with an almost mischievous amusement as he considered the question, his fingers tapping idly on the armrest of the chair. His posture was perfect, his presence commanding yet relaxed.

"No," he said, drawing the word out slowly. "Not really. You see, sport was always my dream. It was the job I was born to do. I was damn good at it, and I loved every minute of it. Running the Ministry of Sport, overseeing the nation’s athletic legacy—it was everything I ever wanted." He paused, letting his words hang in the air. "And, now that it’s coming to an end, I’m content. I get to focus more on running Venturer, my business, and more importantly... my family."

There was a softness in his voice as he spoke of his family, a hint of something deeper that caught the interviewer off guard. The audience, too, seemed to react to it—a quiet murmur running through the crowd.

The interviewer arched an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "See, that surprises me. You’ve built quite a legacy in sport, Rupert. But I thought that politics—especially the role of Prime Minister—would have been an inevitable next step for someone like you. But it seems that... family has become your focus now? I mean, you know what they say. There have been quite a few rumors about your marriage. Some say it wasn’t entirely... conventional."

Rupert chuckled, the sound deep and rich. It was the same laugh he used when he found something particularly amusing, the kind that made you feel like you were in on the joke. The laughter seemed to hang in the air for a moment longer than usual before he responded, tapping his fingers on the chair’s armrest with a casual precision.

"Ah yes," he said, with mock sincerity. "The endless speculation. It’s always good for a laugh, isn't it? People seem to think they know everything about my life, but of course, they don’t. They never do."

The interviewer leaned in slightly, sensing an opening. "Many of your critics saw your marriage as a strategic move—a way to clean up your image. Your past… well, it’s been colorful, to say the least. Before you married your current wife, there were plenty of rumors, plenty of… indiscretions. Some would say your reputation was, how shall I put this, somewhat tarnished."

Rupert gave another laugh, this time with a hint of self-deprecation. "Tarnished? That’s putting it lightly, don’t you think? I’ve never been one to shy away from my mistakes. I was a cad, a true villain of the tabloids. But who I was... isn’t who I am now. People can judge me all they want, but I know who I am, and I’m at peace with that."

The interviewer sat back slightly, taken aback by Rupert’s frankness. But he wasn’t done.

"Then what changed, Rupert? How did the nation's most notorious playboy end up married to the woman who seems to have... tamed you?" he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

Rupert’s smile softened, just for a moment. It wasn’t the cocky, world-weary grin that the audience had come to associate with him. This one was different—genuine, almost tender, as his dark eyes flickered with something more personal.

"I fell in love," he said quietly, his voice taking on a reverent tone. "And when I say love, I mean real, honest-to-God love. It hit me like a freight train. I didn’t expect it. Hell, I didn’t even see it coming. I was blind-sided." He paused, his gaze drifting momentarily, as though caught in the memory of a moment long past. The audience was silent now, completely riveted.

The interviewer, too, seemed caught by the sincerity in Rupert’s voice. "As simple as that? You fell in love just like that? The man who was feared and adored, suddenly, completely devoted to one woman?"

Rupert smiled again, but this time it was more wistful, as though he were holding something precious just beneath the surface of his usual bravado. "It’s never that simple, is it? But yes, in a way, it was. It was just one of those things, you know? When it happens, you realize it. She was everything. She still is."

The audience reacted almost audibly, some of them exchanging quiet whispers among themselves. The interviewer was clearly fascinated, his next question practically spilling out. "How did it happen, Rupert? How did the great Rupert Campbell-Black, the man who is Thatcher notorious dog, find himself so... hopelessly devoted to one woman?"

Rupert chuckled softly, the sound almost bittersweet. "It wasn’t easy," he said, his eyes twinkling as he remembered the first time he truly saw her. "I had seen her flittering around, but I’d never really seen her. Not like that. It was in a garden, Charles Fairburn’s garden, to be specific. I didn’t think anyone saw me, but I was there, and she was there to help dear Charles, looking so perfect, so unassuming. Caring. Gentle. She was like a vision, and that was it for me. I was done."

He shook his head, a slight, almost imperceptible smile playing at the corner of his lips. "It took me a while to get it right. But once I saw her for who she really was, I knew I had to win her over. And, trust me, she didn’t make it easy."

The interviewer’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "You? Rupert Campbell-Black? You, the man who never had to work for anything, actually had to—what?—earn her affections?"

Rupert smirked, the slightest hint of pride in his voice. "You’d be surprised what love makes a man do. She had high standards. And I had to prove I could live up to them. I had to work for her trust. Work for her love. It wasn’t just about charm anymore. I had to show her who I could be, not just who I was."

The interviewer leaned forward, clearly intrigued by this side of Rupert Campbell-Black that no one had really seen before. "So what did you do? How did you finally win her over?"

Rupert sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, an uncharacteristic flicker of vulnerability crossing his features for a brief second. "I begged," he admitted, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, but also sincerity. "I got down on my knees, and I begged her. I asked her to forgive me for being the man I had been and to let me prove I could be the man she deserved."

The audience gasped, some audibly laughing at the thought of Rupert Campbell-Black—so self-assured, so larger-than-life—getting down on his knees. Even the interviewer seemed stunned for a moment.

"You begged?" the interviewer asked incredulously.

Rupert just shrugged, his trademark grin returning in full force. "What can I say? She had standards. And, thankfully, she was merciful."

The laughter that followed was warm, genuine, and filled the studio. The audience was utterly charmed by the idea of this notorious playboy admitting to something so rare for a man like him—humility.

"Well, clearly, it worked," the interviewer said, smiling as he glanced at Rupert. "But what made her finally say yes?"

Rupert leaned forward again, his face taking on that signature confident glint. "It wasn’t about me changing. It was about me finding something worth fighting for, something worth being better for. And trust me, there’s only one person in this world who can tame me. And I’m more than happy to let her."

The audience erupted in applause, their approval ringing loud and clear. The interviewer shook his head with a chuckle, clearly amused. "Rupert Campbell-Black, you never fail to entertain."

Rupert winked, his usual mischievous charm back in full force. "I do my best."

The interviewer smiled, leaning in for the final words. "Well, there you have it, folks. The one, the only, Rupert Campbell-Black—politician, businessman, sports mogul... and the man who met his match in love. Stay tuned for more about Rupert Campbell-Black’s mysterious goddess."

The audience cheered again, their applause echoing in the studio as the lights began to dim

Please let me know what you think!!!!

Like. Comment. Request- Especially for Rupert!

Nadja Auermann, Christy Turlington, Claudia Schiffer, Cindy Crawford & Stephanie Seymour for Gianni Versace, 1994 - Ph. Richard Avedon

Okayy what do u think something each of the three(tash art pat, individually) are secretly into.. could be sexual or not

Guilty pleasures ig

Oooo I had to think hard about this it never crossed my mind surprisingly I got carried away too NSFW:

Patrick: hate fucking for the win is generally into feral sex, ripping into each other, cussing one another out likes to antagonize you and wants the same energy back. I think he likes a brat someone to dominate until they can’t form coherent sentences “my fucked out slut” ramming his hips into your core you can barely think squeezing your mouth open and spitting on your tongue and tbh will just do it on your face smearing it across your mouth and cheek, face fucking till your choking on his dick squeezing his thighs trying not to tap out.

Patrick is aloof but adores you. I don’t think he’s ever tried to be the best boyfriend before you, strictly into one night stands and month long situationships also giving into whatever woman his parents want him to date next until he fucks them over out of spite but he wants to do better when he meets you, is in your space all the time, he’s messy, always in your space, he ends up desiring intimacy calling you late at night aching for comfort only you can provide

Art: I think he’s a sweetheart in every sense of the word, gifts and flowers before most dates, dotes on you whenever you feel like shit (massages, cuddles, will happily validate your feelings agreeing to everything you’re saying even if you’re wrong) craves pleasing you wants to be your good boy.. and I think he is kind of a switch sexually in the sense of wanting to care for his partner fulfill their needs and not feeling satisfied until they’re met but also likes to be babied wanting you to love him until he’s brought to tears.

Then the other side of the coin wanting to wreck them fucking them like no tomorrow especially when shit hits the fan, he’s on the verge of snapping after terrible tennis tournament or feels emasculated especially around Patrick and wants to be dominated he’s your dumb baby that needs to be used and humbled (breeding kink too that man wants a big family).

Tashi: hard dom all the way, you’ve seen her dictating Art she’s does the same to you, setting schedules and specific regimens for you to follow (meals you should eat, when to exercise, time to focus on your goals) insisting that she knows what’s best for you, punishments inside when you don’t reach her standards but absolutely amazing at aftercare she needs you to know how much she appreciates you even if you step out of line in her eyes. Will give you anything you want, you make a comment about how beautiful an Hermes bag is while passing the store she’s automatically buying it for you, notices you scrolling through your favorite fast food restaurant menu she already knows your order delivering it asap.

I feel like she gets off on watching you fuck someone else, controlling the entire situation who does what and when to cum. She’s possessive but isn’t opposed to group sex as long as she’s in charge

zendaya wearing bob mackie ss01 inspired by cher at the 2024 rock & roll hall of fame induction ceremony

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