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Had to get this video for scientific purposes obviously

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March 4, 2022 Sihtric and Finan posing behind the scenes of filming The Last Kingdom Season 5. Photograph by James Northcote.

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How do Bob and Rhett celebrate Valentine's Day? What do they get for each other? Their shared beloved?

Valentines! Omg I forgot that was coming up soon 💕🌸I think I got a little bit carried away with this one 😔

Rhett

Rhett's a bit of a blank canvas when it comes to Valentine's Day. The closest he's come to celebrating the holiday was back in elementary school when his momma bought him a pack of Valentine's cards for an event his teacher was hosting.

He didn't even think about it until y'all were standing in a checkout lane together, and you noticed one of the employees putting out a Valentine's chocolate display.

You haven't the slightest clue about it, but the only reason you manage to beat him to paying for your items is because he's in the middle of a cold sweat.

And here he thought he wouldn't have a problem with remembering all of the important dates and holidays. What the hell does he even get you? He thought the animatronic duck was cute, but you wrinkled your nose at it the moment it started singing and dancing...

The initial idea is that he'll pick up something every time he runs into town for errands. He'll gather up a bunch of small stuff until he figures out what the 'big' thing should be.

A little plushie that reminds him of you, another of your favorite animal, the candies he remembers you saying you enjoyed, a bag of chips you were munching on during his most recent rodeo. He gets bored waiting for his dad to show up and welds a small flower out of bolts and screws. It turns into a bouquet.

By the time he realizes that taking you to dinner and a movie is probably the safest option, he's got a hoard of gifts stashed away in the passenger seat of his truck. The worst part? They no longer fit into the little red basket he bought.

At first, you're thinking that Rhett's way of celebrating Valentines Day is a little bit more cliche than you'd anticipated.

He takes you out to your favorite restaurant, surprises you with a little stuffed animal on the way to the movies. There's a small basket of candies waiting for you when you get home and a little bouquet of wildflowers that he spent the whole morning collecting.

Up until you mosey into the kitchen the next morning, half awake and poking at the coffee he made before he headed off to work, you think that the celebrations are over and done with.

And then you open the cabinet to find a pink plush elephant looking back at you. Because what you didn't know is that while you were sleeping, Rhett scattered all of your remaining gifts around the house.

There's a box of chocolates on the couch. His welded flowers are resting below the television and take you thirty minutes to notice. He's slipped a bag of handmade hard candies into your chair in the kitchen, there's another stuffed animal in the bathroom sink. A keychain hangs from the door hinge, and a fluffy blanket lurks in the closet.

It just becomes a habit of his. Every Valentine's Day, he takes you out for a cliche night plucked straight out of the movies, and every morning, you wake up to a scavenger hunt that gradually becomes more intricate over time.

And maybe you do occasionally miss a gift and rediscover it months down the road, like the box of candy that remained hidden behind the bowls until mid-May. But hey, that's just part of the fun!

Bob

Bobby, for as intelligent and forward-thinking as he might be, is severely under-prepared.

For months, he's been looking at the date on the calendar and telling himself that, yeah, he's got this under control! It can't be that difficult to celebrate a holiday as simple as Valentine's Day.

...come to find out, that's easier said than done.

Everything he thinks of is either fully booked or it's something he knows that you won't enjoy. There's a carnival in town with a bunch of Valentine-themed games, but it's also ridiculously cold outside, and he's not about to freeze you half to death in the name of a romantic holiday.

Your car breaks down and winds up in the shop with a steep repair bill. Bob knows what he'll do; he can take you out to dinner and surprise you by revealing he's fully paid it off and gotten you those new tires you've been needing!

...and then you call him one afternoon, excited to report that the repair shop mixed up a few customers and that your bill was significantly smaller. You already paid it off and just need him to take you to pick it up.

There's a pair of shoes that you mentioned you really liked. The day before he plans to go and buy them for you, you find a coupon and buy them yourself.

He finds a figurine from your favorite TV show, then realizes you've had the same figurine on the shelf this whole time. He starts planning a mini-vacation; your coworker goes on maternity leave earlier than planned, and work is so understaffed that they can't approve any time off until she returns.

He plans to buy you the videogame you were talking about; you buy it for yourself. He spends an afternoon looking for a new kitchenware set because you're down to two remaining bowls; your friend gives you the set she's had for years and never opened.

Why are you so damn independent?

And then he comes up with an idea. He goes through his camera roll and prints his favorite pictures he's taken with you. Both the ones of you together and the pictures that he's quietly taken while you weren't paying attention. On the back of each one, he writes a memory of what was happening when it was taken and hangs it from a pink braised string with a tiny clothespin.

Problem is, he braided the string too long and doesn't have enough pictures. So he adds to it by picking up a disposable camera and taking pictures of all the things that remind him of you. A butterfly that landed on his boot, a cat whose spot looked like the first letter of your name, a restaurant you both hated, the sunrise from the backseat of an F/A-18 because you once asked him how it looked from so high in the sky.

On the way to a casual dinner reservation on Valentine's Day, Bob runs back into the apartment because he 'forgot' his wallet. What you don't know is that he's hanging his string of memories from the ceiling, using command hooks that he installed while you were in the shower.

Like Rhett, he tricks you into believing that dinner and the stuffed animal in the passenger seat are the celebrations. Until you walk through the front door, you haven't the slightest clue that they're just the beginning 💕

Both

Together? These two turn it into a game, and you're just as in on it as they are. It's hard for a holiday to be complicated or boring when it's just a lighthearted game that's going on between the three of you.

That being said, their methods of celebrating are about the same as they are when they're separate. Rhett enjoys collecting a bunch of small things to tack onto a casual, intimate night out, and Bob loves to create something meaningful that will be remembered.

Thing is, nobody is allowed to know what the other is planning.

You walk into the house after running errands and catch sight of Bob scurrying around and rushing to hide his arts and crafts project before you can catch a glimpse of it.

Rhett slinks around the house like a damn feral cat with something fluffy trapped in the front of his work jacket. What is it? You and Bob have no idea, but while he's walking up the stairs, a box of candy hearts falls out of his pocket and explodes like sugary confetti.

Because there are three of you, everyone has to decide beforehand on how celebratory meals are going to work. Do you want to do just one big dinner? Should all three of you collaborate on that, or should one person be in charge of it? What about scheduling three dinner reservations across February? Or what if, instead of just dinner, you each take breakfast, lunch, or dinner and make it a full day of celebratory meals? The possibilities are endless.

Rhett always finds a way to weld together some stray nails, bolts, and chunks of scrap metal into a small airplane. He always uses the same format, places the same pieces into the same old places, but each plane always manages to look a little bit different once Bob puts it up on the shelf with the other ones.

Bobby, on the other hand, goes out of his way to use Cecelia's recipes and makes the raspberry jam and cherry pies Rhett grew up eating. They're the one thing he always talks about missing, and over time, Bob has been able to convince Cecelia to share those top-secret recipes with him.

Notably, with these two, it's only a matter of time before someone suggests going out late one night and buying a bunch of candy and cheap Valentine's-themed trinkets that will inevitably wind up on its respective holiday stash.

Chocolate? Hard candy? Heart-shaped cookies with red and pink icing that are a dollar more and taste exactly the same as the ones sitting right next to them. Boxes of limited edition flavors of candies that all three of you hate but convince yourselves will be better this time.

And then there are the themed recipes that Bob finds and convinces you and Rhett will definitely be worth making in the end: sugar cookies, strawberry cheesecake parfaits, chocolate bark, and those microwave mug cakes that always look incredible on the package but come out looking like crimes against society...

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miles miller

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i don’t care if sentry is a destroyer of worlds. he is also my little princess

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life with miles after the el royale.

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Miles Miler x aspiring Actress vibes.

(So a bit of a warning here, cause tapping into Miles Miller canon and drug use, but it’s just a short mention) (also, I don’t mean to kidnap but not that this is on my brain… well here’s a vignette I guess. I’m sorry. lol. It’s all your fault for getting me thinking.)

Miles hears the bell. Faint at first and then louder. He wishes he could spend the day lost in fake euphoria. But he knows whoever is ringing the bell isn’t going to stop. It’s his job to greet the guests. Assign them their rooms. So he’s not mad but god, he wishes he could just stay lost in this fake bliss, his memory clouded by daydreams of what ifs.

The bell chimes again and he sighs. He smoothes out his uniform, his hair, puts on as neutral an expression as possible. Once he passes the threshold of the back door, he can’t keep the smile off his face.

You’re back. Wait…

You’re back. That means…

Miles’s smile falters. He doesn’t have to ask, but he does anyways. “No luck?”

You shake your head and sigh. “Well, I would’ve gotten the part if…”

You don’t have to say more. Miles knows you mean if you’d shared an evening with the producer. “I’m sorry.” Miles offers a sympathetic smile. “Do you want the same room?”

“Yes, please. And a cup of coffee once I’m settled in for the day.”

Miles gathers the keys. You don’t have to ask and Miles doesn’t bother to ask either if you need help. He just grabs your bag and walks you to your room, smiles at the small ‘thank you’ you offer and the soft hint of a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll get that coffee going.” Miles almost whispers and you nod.

He’s ready to turn in his heel when you call his name. “Yes?”

“If you have time, maybe you’re up for a game of cards?”

Miles’s eyes round out with something close to joy. “I’d love that.” And he does. Those long nights spend with you, he doesn’t need the other escape. No pinch of his skin, no hours lost in fake euphoria. When you’re here, he feels as close to himself as he did before the war. No flashes of rotting flesh and soulless eyes. There’s only you and your sweet voice and sweet smile and when you’re not talking, you’re listening. Really listening. Without interruption and without judgement

Miles doesn’t want to be selfish but in a very selfish way he hopes you’ll never get that big break. Because when you do, you won’t come back here. When you do, he’ll lose the one great thing that keeps him tethered to this world, that makes his life somewhat bearable between nightmares and flashbacks and managing this god awful place.

You have no idea how happy this just made me!!! It’s like you truly jumped into my mind and were able to pull out the vision exactly!

Those long nights spent with you, he doesn’t need the other escape. No pinch of his skin, no hours lost in fake euphoria. When you’re here, he feels as close to himself as he did before the war. No flashes of rotting flesh and soulless eyes. There’s only you and your sweet voice and sweet smile and when you’re not talking, you’re listening. Really listening. Without interruption and without judgement

THIS IS EXACTLY HOW I PICTURED THEIR DYNAMIC ‼️‼️‼️

Miles doesn’t want to be selfish but in a very selfish way he hopes you’ll never get that big break. Because when you do, you won’t come back here. When you do, he’ll lose the one great thing that keeps him tethered to this world, that makes his life somewhat bearable between nightmares and flashbacks and managing this god awful place.

The fact that she’s the one bright spot in his life 🥺 And honestly, he’s hers, too!

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Down the Rabbit Hole at the El Royale

A/N: Have I had this plot line rolling around in my head since I saw Bad Times in theaters years ago? Yes. Do I know this will get like twelve notes? Also yes. But I liked writing it. So, maybe you guys will enjoy reading it.  Pairing: Miles Miller/F!Reader Word Count: 5.4k

Trigger Warnings: violence, organized crime, drug-use, war, murder—please do not read if any of this will upset you!

Summary: Five times Miles is excited to see you and the one time he wished he never met you OR a mysterious woman walks into the El Royale.

The first time Miles saw you, he had thought you were some sort of silver screen starlet, lost on her way to California. You walked in and pulled the silk scarf from around your hair before shoving it into the pocket of your coat. After filling a cup of coffee and grabbing one of the small packets of sugar and creamer, you walked to the front desk with a breezy smile that waned the smallest bit when you spotted him behind the desk.

“You’re new,” you said. It wasn’t a question. Your (pretty) eyes tracked to the nametag on his chest and nodded, as if his name suited him. Before he could say anything else, you placed a crisp ten dollar bill beneath the coffee and slid it toward him. “You look like you could use it.”

Heat tracked up Miles’ cheeks as he shyly took the cup and set it beneath the counter. He’d happily drink it later. “Let me get you your change,” he said, looking away, sure he could start a fire with the warmth burning on his face.

“Oh, get yourself a piece of pie with it. You look like a cherry guy. Am I right?” Leaning over the counter with another smile, Miles could smell your expensive perfume. Light and floral.

“Y-yes, ma’am. I do like it.”

Keep reading

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from people you know to people you don't do not repost (reblogs are fine)

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Politely requesting Miles Miler thoughts in these trying times

aaaaa I haven't gotten anything for Miles in a minute 🥺 I have a bunch of oddly placed thoughts about the little guy, so I guess this is a *drumroll, please*

Random Miles Miller headcanons + NSFW

He. Sleeps. Everywhere. You leave him in the car to go get something in the store and come out to find him snoozing in the seat. If he lays on you, he'll be out in minutes. On the couch? Gone. Waiting for the waitress to bring your meal? Out like a light. Boring movie? He didn't stand a chance. Standing up? He's mastered it. Lawn chairs are off-limits because he will curl up and wind up with a ridiculous sunburn.

Quiet as all hell. Unless you're watching the door, you truly have no idea if Miles has come home or not. Sometimes, you'll turn around, and he's just there. When did he enter the room? Nobody knows.

Somewhat related, you getting frightened also scares him. Which means that if he accidentally scares you into yelping, then he's likely going to jump and yelp, too. His reaction to horror films is entirely correlated to how you react; if you're quiet, then he will be, too, but the moment you scream, then so will he.

Nothing on this earth will get between Miles and his ice cream; he loves nearly every flavor. Chocolate, vanilla, rocky road, mint chip, cookie dough, cake batter, salted caramel. Pistachio is one of the few things that he'll wrinkle his nose at, but he'll eat it if he's got no other option.

He's shy about it, but he loves it when you let him sit in your lap, his back against your chest while watching television, straddling you as his lips tangle with yours; he adores it all.

You've got to be so careful about when and where you choose to kiss him because anything longer than a few seconds has the little guy mewling into them. He can't help it! There's something so soothing about it that has those soft noises bubbling out of him. Not loud enough to be heard from the next room, but there's a reason why you can't sneak over and kiss him behind the reception desk.

When you ask about it, Miles has no clue what you're talking about because he's never spent money on cologne, but he smells like cinnamon rolls? Warm, fresh out of the oven, just cool enough to not burn your tongue when you take a bite.

It's only after you move in together that you realize he's been using a cinnamon-scented 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. You'd bug him about graduating to specialized products, but he always smells so damn good that you can't really complain.

Giggles when you maintain eye contact for so long. He doesn't even realize that he's doing it. One minute, you're gazing into each other's eyes, and the next, his lips are rising with a laugh.

Finger nibbler. His own fingers, yours, he doesn't discriminate; if they're near his mouth, then he's gently nipping at the tips of them.

Let! Him! Snuggle on your chest! Pepper his forehead with kisses while he's there! It's the easiest way to get him giggling, cheeks and ears twinged with pink.

Loves baking but isn't that great at it. He keeps trying, but regardless of the effort involved, there's always something wrong in the end. His pastries might be a little burnt, and you may not like them, but hey, he got his sweet treat, and he's happy about it :)

You're gonna have to get used to Miles mumbling to himself. It's not that he's trying to start a conversation or got too shy to continue on, he's just genuinely talking to himself. Sometimes, he'll be reading a book, and you'll overhear a faint, "Don't do that. Why are you doing that? Stop. Don't do that—oh my god."

Rapidly jumps between flighty, not wanting any trouble, and fierce protector. It's strange to watch.

Most of the time, Miles is very keen on avoiding trouble at any cost, steering clear of a restaurant where you got a rude waiter, backing off the moment someone snaps at him, apologizing the moment someone raises a problem with him.

But then there's a night when you wake to a crash downstairs, and he starts dishing out firm, quiet orders to stay near the phone until he comes back. Eyes narrowed, gun in hand, slinking out of the room like he's hunting prey. It was only a shelf that had fallen, shattering a vase on its way to the floor, but for those few minutes, you were the safest person on this side of the country.

Really does not mind it if you want to do 'girly' stuff with him. Paint his nails, style his hair, put makeup on him. He might complain a little if you try to put him in a skirt or a sundress, but he'll do it if that's what you want.

Probably not much of a headcanon, but Miles is such a good little housekeeper! He knows exactly what to use, how much, and how to maintain it. You haven't cleaned the bathroom in years because Miles has a way of doing it and doesn't like to stray from it. The house is immaculate, and Miles is so proud that he's purring like a kitten.

Stronger than he looks? You're still processing it; Miles is nothing but skin, bone, and a little bit of muscle, there's no reason for him to be able to lift that damn bookcase by himself, but he does it. Somehow.

Miles remembers every little thing you've ever told him. You once pointed at a pair of shoes while at the mall, talking about how you wanted them, but they were out of stock, and the store refused to sell the displays. Six months later, they're your birthday gift. You can ramble about a show he's never seen, and he's genuinely listening, keeping up as if he's watched it with you.

Kisses! French kisses, chaste pecks, butterfly kisses, neck, earlobe, hand, belly, nose, hello kisses, goodbye kisses, he wants to give and receive them all!

It wasn't something he was aware of before you got together, but Miles gets so damn squirmy when you kiss his thighs. Especially when you take the time to suck darkened marks into the sensitive skin there; it's the quickest way to have him leaking against his belly and babbling about how badly he wants you to touch him.

Slightly into voyeurism, but only in spaces, he knows don't get a lot of foot traffic. Ex. You sucking him off while he stands behind the reception desk, where anyone can venture through the front door at any minute. He loves clamping his hands over his mouth to try and muffle his whimpers when you're harshly sucking on his sensitive tip.

Raging praise and degradation kinks. You called him your pretty little slut once, and his knees nearly buckled out from under him.

You wouldn't think it, but Miles is surprisingly noisy in bed. He's always gotta be making some kind of noise, babbling your name, grunting under the effort of working his hips, keening high in his throat, senselessly grumbling when you kiss down his neck. The best ones are when you fuck him hard enough to wring those soft 'uh, uh, uh's out of him.

Speaking of. Pegging? Miles had never heard of it when you first met but now he's obsessed. Riding your strap until he's too sore to keep going, getting bent over the kitchen table in nothing but that cute pink apron, the tender closeness of you fucking him in missionary, where he can wrap his shaking legs around you. If you hit the right spot, he doesn't even need to touch his cock.

If Miles could make a full-time job out of eating you out, then he would. There's just something about the feeling of your thighs clamping around his head, your fingers pulling at his hair while he rolls his tongue over your sensitive clit.

Nearly proposes marriage every time you moan his name. One of these days, it's actually going to make its way out of his mouth.

Below the belt, he's pretty average. His cock is maybe a hair over six and a half inches, noticeably thicker but not enough for you to warrant any extra prep before sex, but there's a curve to him that he's learned to use to his advantage. Positions like missionary and cowgirl are where he stands out the most, dragging just right against all those little spots.

...mayhaps I got carried away

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Random HC with bobby. He is insanely good at swing dancing, especially to Johnny B. Goode by Chuck Berry. He is like the best, along with his height. I wanna right this but I have too many side projects and WIPs that I haven't done.

no because you’re so incredibly right, my love! bobby is a farmers boy. he’s been to his high school dance and the line dances in his small town. and the same for major. he’s just a little guy who likes to build his boats and go dancing 🥹 not to be a bad influence but, do it, do it, do it…🤭💌

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Adrian Chase would also, after Y/n calls him “hot”, would most definitely be telling anyone and everyone lol, the 11th Street Kids team would be like, “WE GET IT, SHE CALLED YOU HOT”

omg so sorry this took forever to respond to 😭 anyways I imagine this gif is exactly how he’d react

𝒲ℯ 𝑔ℯ𝓉 𝒾𝓉

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Chase.” You mumbled under your breath to him. Your thumb swiping over the blood that got on your cheek when he stabbed the guy currently on the floor.

He froze in place, breath hitching. Did he hear that right? His heart raced as he took the knife out of the man’s chest.

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You said, laughing to yourself as you imagined his face underneath.

“You think I’m…?” He pointed to you and then himself. You rolled your eyes at him, an amused smile was on your face.

“Focus, you two.” Emilia’s voice cut through, Adrian was blushing underneath his mask.

And when he got home, Peacemaker came in with him and Adrian pulled out two beers from his fridge.

“I can’t believe it.” Adrian mumbled to himself, sitting on his couch.

“What?” Peacemaker asked, confused.

“She called me cute.”

He furrowed an eyebrow.

“Ohhh..” he realized, a small smile on his face now.

“Make your move then.”

“Nah. She doesn’t like me. But…”

“She called you cute and flirts with you every day, are you being serious?”

“That doesn’t mean she likes me.” Adrian shook his head.

—————

And the next day, he didn’t let it go either. There was a meeting, you were late. He told everyone there.

“She called me cute, do you think that means she likes me? I mean-“

“Dude, she likes you.” Adebayo snickered, he was so oblivious.

“But-“

“She likes you! It’s so painfully obvious, Adrian.” Economos groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

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Why do men have to be so hot while in pain

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