#That means any bonus this weekend I don’t fucking get it

[birdy-bird27]

I’m so normal and not overthinking things rn :) I’m the normalest human ever

[allwaswell16]

Hi Anitra! I was wondering if you had any favourite omega!louis fics?

Ohhhh I have so many...I'll try to narrow it down to five for you...

where the lights are beautiful by twoshipsdrifting / @polkadotlou

Harry wasn’t wrong about that, not in a general sense. Lots of omegas did seek out rich alphas and betas, hoping or planning to go into heat at the right time. Plenty of omegas saw this as their duty, especially if their families weren’t well off. Worse, Louis couldn’t honestly say he’d never thought about it. If that had been his life, his goal, Louis would feel pretty good about himself now. As it is…Louis feels like shit.

Or the accidental bonding a/b/o fic.

Moon Dances Over by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

Louis knows that his tail is, frankly, stunning. His iridescent blue scales shimmer in even the slightest sunlight, and his fins have grown since he presented, delicate and almost transparent in their webbing.

He also knows that that means he’ll be one of the first to pick tonight, as the most beautiful omegas are blessed to pick their mates first. It’s considered a huge honour, since the guppies they’ll eventually birth will certainly be beautiful as well, bringing favour on the whole clan.

Louis has a stubborn streak, though. He’s always been rather a fan of mating for love, and there’s someone he’s had his eye on for a long time now.

Saving Symphony Hall by @helloamhere

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

And That’s The Tea by @2tiedships2

I’d like an Earl Grey with milk and sugar, please.

Louis had the phrase memorized, even though it had disappeared off its place on his upper arm over thirteen years ago now.

At fourteen he didn’t understand. Soulmarks don’t just disappear. Not unless…

Unless one of them dies.

Or, the one where Louis loses his soulmate before even getting the chance to meet them, and he is in no way prepared for the kind of distraction his new friend Harry proves to be.

Cameras Flashing by @juliusschmidt

With his breakout single platinum three times over and his second album still selling out in stores around the world, Louis Tomlinson has made it to the top. However, his position as Pop Heartthrob of the Decade is threatened by the edgier, more artistic Zayn, who happens to be releasing an album a week after Louis’ upcoming third. Louis needs something groundbreaking- scandalous, even- to push past him in the charts. Much to Louis’ dismay, his PR team calls in The Sexpert.

Consulting with PR firm Shady, Lane and Associates pays the bills so that Harry Styles can spend his down time doing what he really loves: poring over data. On weekends and late into the evenings, he researches gender, presentation, and sexual orientation, analysing the longitudinal study that is his father’s life’s work. That is, until his newest client, the popstar with the fascinating secret, drags him off his couch and frighteningly close to the spotlight.

As the album’s release date approaches, will Tomlinson and Styles be able to pull off the most risky PR scheme of the millennium and beat Zayn in sales or will the heat of their feelings for each other compromise everything?

Bonus: My favorite omega Louis I wrote lol

If I Loved You Less by allwaswell16

Beautiful omega Louis Tomlinson is set to make his come out in London society and determined to find a mate in his first Season. With the help and protection of his oldest friend, Lord Niall Mendes, he takes Society by storm.

Being a wealthy and titled alpha means Lord Harry Styles has grown used to avoiding unmated omegas...until now. This Season he finds himself at every Society event just for a chance to speak with the omega with the flashing blue eyes.

Louis has the aristocracy at his feet and all the suitors he could hope for, but his secrets may ruin his chance at a love match.

[bullet-prooflove]

Taken!Series Part Five: Perfect - Angel Reyes x Reader

Tagging: @wakeama @witches-unruly-heart @keyweegirlie @trhett21 @annetje @infinity-mars @emily2003alzaga @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @thatonesexycancerian @expir3dl0v3 @appreciatelove @the-wandering-lunatic @weiwei0210 @anime-weeb-4-life @multifandomloversworld @harperdoodle @cheyrenee @fanfic-n-tabulous @stressed-chas @daydreaming-belle @est1887 @prettyinpunk85 @adaydreamaway08 @thanossexual @briefpersonenemy @creativitybeware @crimeshowjunkie @librarian1002 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @thebaileybugle @legally-a-bastard @bonsaijoons @sclitvdes @justreblogginfics @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx

You survive, barely, but you do.

They let Angel have a couple of minutes with you once they have you settled in the ICU.

The next few hours are critical they tell him, there’s nothing he can do.

He sits beside your bed, his fingers curling around yours. His thumb traces over the veins, he can’t get over how stark they are against your skin. You look so small, so dilapidated. There’s tubes running into your body, he has no idea what any of them do only that they’re keeping you alive.

You’re usually so vivid, so passionate, seeing you like this is a blow, one that’s not sure he’ll recover from.

“Valeria’s safe.” He tells you. “We got her back.”

There’s no response from you, he doesn’t expect one. He doesn’t know if you can hear him, but he hopes you can because that means you’re coming back to him, back to the family you fought for.

“It was bad Lila.” He whispers, his lips brushing over your knuckles. “Our baby girl was wrapped up in bath towels, sleeping in a cardboard box in a fucking shanty town. That’s what you were trying to save her from.”

His eyes are stinging now, he feels the tears spilling over his cheeks as he squeezes your hand.

“She could have died up there.” He says, his voice breaking. “She was crying, dirty, hungry…”

He draws in a shaky breath, using the back of his hand to wipe away the tears that stain his cheeks.

“She needs you Lila, we both do. I can’t… I can’t do this without you.” his voice breaks, a sob erupting from his chest. “I don’t want to do this without you. I need you to get through this so we can be a family again because you’re the mom she needs, the one that was there when…”

He can’t bring himself to say it because the images it conjures in his head are too raw, too visceral. Everytime, he closes his eyes, he’s sees you lying there bleeding out across the laminate.

He thinks of his mother’s ring nestled in the top pocket of his kutte, the one he’d collected from his father a couple of weeks ago. That’s the reason he’s agreed to go out last night, him and EZ were putting their heads together, trying to come up with a proposal that you’d love.

EZ had suggested the rose garden because they all knew how much that place meant to you. Jo and him had put together a plan, they were going to decorate the place with fairy lights, make it magical for the two of you.

Next weekend is when they decided, his Pops would take Valeria for the night. EZ and Jo would set things up while Angel took you out for dinner, your first date since Valeria came along, you’d go for a walk afterwards to the rose garden…

It would have been perfect, he thinks as he watches the rise and fall of your chest. You would have loved it.

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

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Connection

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Pairing: barista!Mike (Hellraiser) x reader (you)

Summary: Mike makes good on a promise to take you somewhere nice for the weekend.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI!!! (I know, it's real!) fingering, oral (m receiving), (protected) p-in-v sex (spooning, doggy and proneboning, god, these sluts don't even look at each other), a little too-soon-moment (though not the one you would expect) and Mike being silly and referring to himself as a horny slut.

Now that you're all thoroughly warned... Enjoy!

A/N: Alright! I had this done DAYS ago. Weeks, possibly, at this point... But I kept forgetting to post it because uni and life and laksdjfalsdkf why must it be like this?

This is formally the last part of the Coffee + Cats saga. I know, sad right? (I'm a little sad.) And I just want to thank everyone who's followed along for their love and support and the overwhelming amount of cat pictures and videos I have received! ❤️ A very special thanks to @geralts-yenn for putting the idea of barista!Mike in my brain that marked the beginning of this incredible journey of cockblocking Mike.

And because I am me, and I had such a blast writing this... Is it a surprise to anyone that I have 2 bonus chapters/drabbles planned?

If you like this fic, please let me know 🥰 and reblog so that others may see it too! <3

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @mayloma @ellethespaceunicorn @summersong69 @peyton-warren @livisss @ylva-syverson @sweetandgentlecreature

You’ll have to take Mike’s enthusiastic lips latching on to your neck for an answer, because you’re fairly sure it’s the only one you’re going to get. As he sucks, licks and nibbles on your skin, his hand travels down your body.

You don’t mind that this is where you win: Mike’s patience runs out as soon as he feels how wet you are, and you can’t help but chuckle when he softly swears under his breath. He immediately slips two fingers into your pussy, curling them up to find that sweet spot that makes you see stars. It only takes you seconds to figure out that he’s good, paying close attention to your reactions, teasing you with soft kisses to your neck and those nibbles on your earlobe that make you go just a little wild. Apparently, he also knows that ‘don’t stop’ means ‘keep doing exactly that’ and not ‘please change your approach to the most violent thing imaginable’.

For a minute, you think you hate him for his skill, but how could you ever really hate a guy who makes you cum like that, within minutes?

“Fuck, Mike,” you sigh as you melt into his arms, your walls still clenching around his fingers, “that was amazing.”

If it hadn’t already become glaringly obvious throughout the day, it would have been impossible to miss now: Mike thrives on praise and validation. He contently buries his face in your neck, humming softly as he keeps kissing you – he’s truly adorable, and sweet, and kind, and handsome, and… he deserves a reward.

Sharp teeth sink into his soft bottom lip when your fingers wrap around his cock. Now you’re the one not wasting any time, giving him a few gentle, slow strokes before dragging his sweatpants down as far as you can while you get on your knees. Mike is right there with you, helpfully offering assistance in the ‘getting him naked’-department.

With a grin on your face that you don’t doubt is entirely unsexy, you drag his sweatpants all the way down – still helped along by Mike, who helpfully scoots up a little – and sit in between his legs. Carefully, you lick the salty bead of precum off the tip of his cock – it’s enough to make his abs twitch, making you chuckle. Then, you lock your eyes on his and revel in Mike’s blatant, wide-eyed shock as you swallow him all the way down without hesitation.

“F-fuck, Sweetcheeks!” It’s almost a protest, the way he sputters and stammers something about taking it easy. He doesn’t want to cum, he wants you to feel good, this was supposed to be about you. Yawn. You are enjoying this, does he know that? “Baby,” you say, a warning hidden in your tone, “shush. I love doing this, especially if you get a little loud for me, okay?”

It doesn’t look like he believes you; he looks at you with confusion and suspicion in his eyes. By now he really should have caught on to the idea that you’re nothing like those horrible exes he has… Right? Maybe you should just ignore that look in his eyes and keep going. Would that work? Eh… Only one way to find out.

You slowly move up and down his length, reveling in the delightful moans that escape Mike. He’s easy to tease. His soft whines as your mouth leaves his cock and your hand takes its place while you lightly kiss the inside of his thighs are proof of that. The featherlight touch of your lips makes him squirm and beg to take him into your mouth again, but just as you’re about to do that, he stops you and pulls you up until he can plant a firm kiss on your lips again.

“I want you,” he mutters against your lips, “right now.”

“You wanted me twenty minutes ago,” you chuckle. Before you know it, you’re on your stomach, with Mike pinning you to the mattress.

“I wanted you six weeks ago.” He bites your earlobe, making you shriek. When he does it again, it sends a shiver down your spine. “Besides, I don’t think I’m the only horny slut in this room.”

“Oh, please refer to yourself as a horny slut more often!” you laugh as you move against his slacking grip on your wrist, taking his hand in yours.

“Yeah, yeah, I promise,” Mike says before kissing your neck, “now turn around, please?”

“Actually,” you say hesitantly, “I’m kinda comfortable like this.” Mike doesn’t seem to think that the depraved thought you considered it to be, and he wraps his arms around you tightly. As he pulls you closer, you feel his cock against your ass, and you wiggle your hips against him. To tease him? You’re beyond that at this point. For good measure? To make him finally hurry the fuck up? You know what? That last one actually sounds plausible… And it makes Mikey’s comment from before one hundred percent right: He’s not the only horny slut in the room.

“Forgive me for asking,” Mike mumbles, “but do I have to grab a condom, or…”

Now, the correct answer to that question is ‘yes’. “I’m on the pill.” The correct answer to that question is ‘yes’. “And I’m clean.” The correct answer to that question is ‘yes’. “And if you are, too, then…” The. Correct. Answer. To. That. Question. Is. ‘Yes’. “But the real question is…” Oh, just tell the man to grab protection! “Are you going to last without?” Mean and unnecessary…

And somehow incredibly effective. “I feel that shouldn’t be the primary concern,” Mike chuckles, with no sign of embarrassment to his voice, “but it’s a valid point, unfortunately.”

You whine when the warmth of his body disappears for a second, and you watch Mike as he pulls a box of condoms from the drawer in the nightstand.

“You’re fast,” you laugh when it only takes him a few short moments to put the thing on.

“I feel ‘years of practice’ would be totally the wrong answer here,” Mike says as he joins you on the bed again, spooning you like he did before. “For what it’s worth, now that I’m here with you, I regret everything else I’ve ever done.”

“Don’t,” you whisper. “I’m just glad I’m here with you now. After everything else. You know… Those years and years of practice.” The chuckle you let out turns into a soft gasp as Mike lines up behind you.

“Finally here with you,” he corrects you as he slowly pushes forward, leaving you gasping, moaning louder in his arms as he inches his way into your drenched core. Mike softly kisses your neck and shoulders until he stops moving, then nestles comfortably against your back for a while. “This is comfy.”

You have to agree; it’s extremely comfy and so, so sweet, and you are so crazy about this silly guy and… and you’re completely impatient to finally feel him move. He laughs triumphantly when you tell him that. “I told you I was going to make you beg for it.”

He did. He really did exactly that and now that he’s kept his promise… Only he doesn’t feel he’s kept his promise just yet, because what you just did wasn’t quite begging as far as he’s concerned. Oh, for fuck’s sake! “Fuck me, Mike. Please!”

“That’s more like it,” he says – no doubt with a massive grin on his stupid, stupid face. When he moves, you gasp loudly. He’s rough, possessive, digging his fingers into your hips, and his teeth briefly into your shoulder. In no time, you’re turned onto your stomach, and he leaves you for a second, dragging you onto your knees before slamming into you again from behind, a hand between your shoulder blades pressing your chest down onto the mattress as he grinds his hips into you.

Holding back your moans is impossible – and unnecessary. There’s no one around to hear you. Even the neighbors aren’t within earshot! And any unlucky passerby’s that manage to hear what you’re up to are likely trespassing, anyway, so screw them. Almost every moan, squeal and whine makes Mike chuckle softly under his breath.

You shriek in surprise when Mike stops and pulls your legs out from under you, and he flops on top of you before littering your neck and shoulders with kisses.

“Mikey!” you laugh when he starts what you first think is a game of footsie, somehow – it turns out he’s just trying to reposition legs, and you’re not helping.

When he finally manages, and slips back into you, you let out a long moan. There’s no reason to be disappointed because he’s slowed down. In fact, every move he makes feels like it’s exactly what you need – and you don’t have to say a word. It’s like…

“God, it’s like you were made for me, Sweetcheeks,” Mike moans into your ear. Yes. That’s exactly what it feels like. All of his insecurities about not being good enough for you seem to be gone now, and rightfully so.

“I love you.” No. What? You didn’t mean to say that – but that doesn’t mean you don’t mean what you say. Get it? Maybe ‘within six weeks of your first date, during the first time you have sex with the guy’ is a little early – but that doesn’t matter anymore because it’s out now. You can’t even convince yourself he didn’t hear it, because he freezes. Well… Not quite that. It’s a fairly recognizable stutter-y kind of movement, actually. So not only do you say something utterly stupid, but also at the worst possible moment.

“Impeccable timing, Sweetcheeks,” Mike laughs softly as he pulls out. “I know I’m kinda leaving you hanging here, but I need one tiny little moment, okay?” You reluctantly agree because he’s right, he does need a moment – not that he’s wrong about the other thing.

You use the time Mike spends in the bathroom to overthink everything, and by the time he gets back, you’ve almost managed to work yourself completely into hysteria.

“Babe,” Mike says as he crawls under the covers with you and wraps his arms around you. Your brief moment of meditative overthinking has made sure your heart is racing and you’re struggling to control your breath. “Come here, look at me.” His hand on the side of your face is reassuring, but you still can’t help but think you’ve fucked it all up. “I’ve never said this to any girl who wasn’t either my mom or a… cat,” he says softly, his voice a little unsteady. “I love you, too.”

[silurisanguine]

15 lines of Dialogue game

As ive been away for the weekend, not sure if anyone tagged me with this but saw it open tag so here we go. Tagging @vorchagirl @despicablediet and anyone who'd like to do it! 15 Lines of Dialogue Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well! Since i've written the most with Seren Jones, I shall pick her for this!

1 -"Maybe I am, but there isn’t anything left in this universe worth staying for. Whatever is in the next universe has to be better than this one Barrett, it has to. I can't bare to stay here any more, not without him, not when I could have done it so differently."

2 - "Cora… she was there, saw her dad die…She hated me, blamed me for not saving him. After the funeral, Lillian took her and that was the last I ever saw that wonderful twelve year old. I realised then I had no reason to stay in my universe as everything i loved had been taken from me. I hoped maybe another would give me a second chance. To fix things..to try again…

…That’s why I do this.”

3 - "I came here the first time with no preconception of what I’d find. I was in awe at the location, just as you are now. But what I learned here has guided my hand in relation to how I see the Artifacts, how I see Unity and the Starborn. Anyone who wants to complete the Artifact collection, needs to know the full story for themselves.”

4- "Now you see how dangerous this place is, and this is just the start. The Starborn Guardians here have lost all empathy, all compassion, their humanity in pursuit of their cause. They have nothing left in their existence except to stop anyone else reaching the Temple. …I sometimes wonder what is the point of their existence before I wipe them out of it for good.”

5 -”You washed them clean. I can say one good thing about Lillian in that she gave you the chance to do that. You’re not the same man, Sam.”

6 -”They makes me smile every time I come back here. But I’m not entirely alone, the fish there get a view unlike any other.” She pointed to the couple of little fish swimming in their tanks, sitting right at the edge of the massive view screen. “If you don’t mind taking care of them for me, they’ve been a good little crew, never complained once.”

7 - "I've never met you before. Until today I'd never met a single pirate here." That was the truth, if a little stretched Seren thought.

8 -"All this, this universe is a nightmare. I've been to so many variations and… You… everyone here is so different, so wrong. It’s like Unity decided to show me the worst outcome possible just to make me appreciate who I’d - what I’d lost.”

9 -"Neat trick, have to remember that next time I'm in a hell-hole universe."

10 -"Sorry, Sam, just picturing you over Vlad’s head brought on images of you in ballet tights and…yeah, sorry, I have too much imagination.”

11 - "Yes, justice, Delgado. See that’s behind most things I do now. In this case justice for those your fucking coloured coded Spacers have harmed- have murdered. It’s interesting really how far I got here without anyone realising who I really am... I wondered why no one noticed the SIN of my ship. Even Jess surprisingly. It was a gamble using it of course…But no one ever clocked that I was flying the Razorleaf."

12- “Until I knew for sure you felt the same way I did, I wasn’t sure how to really act around you. But now I know, expect more of this, Sam Coe.”

13 - “You know I would! I mean she called me darlin, you know that makes me melt.”

14 - "…He always said he was bad with words, yet he could say things that were like love poetry to me, that would dazzle me. He was so open with his feelings when he trusted you. Funny, absurd sometimes and he cared deeply and loved passionately. He was an amazing father and I-"

15 - "I've no idea. Being Starborn didn't exactly come with a manual."

[sendpseuds]

can I drop in with another WIP ask? In the broadway cody wip...is this like...a drunken party related incident? A preplanned venture? Somewhere in the middle? Who approaches who? (apparently I have a lot of questions - I've been curious about it since that chapter in Resolute Theater!)

Ooohhh! Yes! I love this one. Been on the back burner for a very long time.

[in case you haven't read The Resolute Theater Presents...]

Okay, so, this is mostly just dialogue and little notes at this point, but I think it will answer your question better than I can.

Just to set the scene, this is in Cody's college apartment [it's a nice place because, you know, the mob... allegedly] they've been playing video games for hours when Obi-Wan asks if there's something wrong, saying that his energy feels off [because we love weird witchy Obi-Wan]

Anyway!

*

“I think— I think I might be like you...”

“Like me? An actor?”

“No, not— I mean that you— you sleep with women and—”

“Oh!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Cody. Have you spoken to anyone else about this?”

“No…”

“Well, I’m honored.”

“Thanks?”

“First of all, I am so proud of you.”

Cody starts to panic, everything feels a little too real now.

“Obi-Wan, I’m not even sure I’m right about this, I’ve never even kissed another man. What if— what if I go through all this— coming out bullshit and finally get the courage to try, and then realize that—”

“You’re not straight, Cody.”

“Wha— What makes you say that!?"

“In fact, I don’t even think you’re bi, but we can get to that later.”

“How do you know!? …how did you know?”

“I think I always knew. But acting on the impulse did certainly clear it up for me.”

“I just— I don’t want to embarrass myself. I wish I could just— be sure.”

“Cody, I need to ask an uncomfortable question.”

“This is all uncomfortable. Go ahead.”

“Do you have feelings— for me? Romantic ones?”

“No.” 

“You mean, not anymore, correct?”

Sigh. “Yes.”

“I knew it.”

“You don’t have to be so fucking smug about it.”

“But you’re still attracted to me, yes?”

“Why the fuck did I think you were the right person to talk to about this!?”

“Because you knew I would help.”

“Then help!”

Laughing “I am! I simply wanted to make sure my next question wouldn’t just make this all more complicated for you.”

“What are you talking about, Obi-Wan?”

“Would you like to kiss me?”

“Would I— Wait, would I what?”

“Would you like to kiss me? Or— maybe other things? I promise you won’t embarrass yourself here with me.”

“Are you— you're serious.”

“I am. If getting to experience intimacy with another man would help you find yourself, Cody— as I said, I’m honored that you came to me. If I can help, I’d like to.”

“I— I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Don’t lie, some part of you was.”

“I don’t want you to feel obligated—”

“Stop. Please. I understand. You like to be prepared. You always have. You don’t want your first blow job to be with someone you really like— Not that I’m saying you should — you know what I mean. If you want to fool around, we can do whatever you’d like. I will answer any questions you have. There will be no judgment. Alright?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah, I just— I think you may need to be the one to start the— uh— kissing.”

“Gladly.”

*

BONUS:

“Top, I wanna be on top.”

“I had a feeling,” Obi-Wan chuckled, leaning in to place another kiss on Cody’s lips, his cheek, his jaw until that dangerous mouth of his was whispering in his ear, “alright, Cody, you can fuck me— any way you’d like, but before this weekend is over, you’re going to let me stick my tongue in that greedy little hole of yours.”

That was not happening.

That was definitely not happening.

Fuck, who was he kidding? That was probably happening.

[ahoy-im-gwen]

okay I’m ranting cause I don’t have therapy for another few days and I have to get this off my chest

my brother and I aren’t related. we assume we’re technically cousins in some weird way but we stopped giving a shit about that specifically years ago. my dad has been dead for most of my life and I haven’t spoken to my mom in three and a half years after she abused me for my entire life. he still has both his parents. I kind of know his mom - two years ago when he was in rehab she and I kept in touch for updates when he didn’t have his phone - and I don’t even know his dad’s name, but I know he’s currently living with his dad.

so like, his parents, respectfully, mean nothing to me, but I will always be grateful for his mom for keeping me in the loop when he was in rehab, because I’m not her child, and I’m in no way related to either of them - technically, she didn’t have to tell me shit because a lot of the information she told me was supposed to be for immediate family only, and because it’s rehab, it’s technically—even though I’m his sister, in a situation like that I had no access to anything but she told me anyway, and for that I’ll always be grateful for her.

anyway. I’m not related or in any way close to his parents - he got out of rehab a year and a half ago and I haven’t spoken to his mom since because I don’t need to anymore - and he’s not related to mine, but he’s got my full permission to absolutely beat the fuck out of my mother should they ever cross paths one day. but most of the time whenever we talk, and he brings up his parents, he doesn’t call them his parents. he just calls them mom or dad.

and I’m WELL aware I’m probably reading too much into this. but it also feels like, for a lot of people, if you’re talking about your parents to someone else wouldn’t you specify that it’s YOUR parent? instead of just calling them mom or dad? and maybe that’s just how he talks about them, I’m aware of that, but it also feels like he’s referring to them as if they’re my parents too?

and it’s weird for me because I don’t do well with parents. my ex partner’s mom died of cancer over a year ago, and I met her in 2019 and she was always kind to me - a few months before she died she called me her bonus daughter - and I could never get fully comfortable with her because of my own trauma. after she died I got some clothes of hers and they’re very important to me, and I miss her and always will even after my partner and I ended things, but I could never fully relax around her. when she called me her bonus daughter I had a fucking panic attack, and it was the first time someone called me their daughter since I was in foster care in like. 2015.

so like, parents are weird for me. I don’t do well with friends of mine who are older who tell me “well I’m your parent now!” and I don’t feel safe with anyone’s parents no matter who they are. I’ve known one of my best friends for 20 years, and my mom and I were close with her family, and in 15 or so years I never felt right around her parents, but I saw them at church every weekend and would often go over to her house on the weekends when we were kids. the only exception are friends of mine who now have kids of their own, because it’s like, you were my friend before you were a parent. you have a kid, but you’re not a parent, you’re just my friend with a child.

so again, I’m aware I’m probably reading into this too much. but it just sticks out to me every time. and once in awhile if he mentions that he’s with them, I’ll be like “if you want tell your mom I said hi” because I don’t want to overstep, but I’m always like, they’re your parents. and maybe he’s just comfortable enough to not have to specify but sometimes it feels like he’s acknowledging me as more of a part of his family than just his sister, and if that’s true, I’m honored… but I also have too much parental trauma for it to not put me off a little bit.

[pippytmi]

Roommates au, enemies to lovers, “you confuse me.” Supercorp obvs

“You’re a fucking liar.”

This is—objectively speaking—not the worst greeting Kara has ever received from her roommate, and so she takes it in stride. “Uh, hello to you…too,” Kara says slowly, silently running through a list of everything she could have done wrong to warrant such strong words.

But Lena does not offer any explanation; in fact, when she spots Kara in the doorway, she sends her a nasty glare as if Kara has said something wrong. “Don’t pretend you’re a saint in this matter, Lex,” Lena hisses, and only then does Kara notice the cell phone in Lena’s hands. “If I have to go and clean up your mess again…”

So it’s one of those days. Kara wisely shuts the door quietly behind her, and sneaks into the kitchen as Lena takes her argument into her room.

There is a list of chores pinned to the fridge—four black X’s cross out Lena’s, and Kara’s are underlined twice. They have a code, so as to avoid speaking to each other; X’s mean done, underlined means Kara you're a slob and a pain in the ass to live with. (All verbatim, by the way.)

The dishes, however, are not on Kara’s agenda at the moment. She instead takes the expensive whiskey hidden under the sink (that belongs to Alex, not that she has noticed it’s missing), and pours it into a glass with some ice. Then she whips out the ingredients for a stir fry, complete with every vegetable she had been saving for the potluck at work this weekend.

It is an unspoken rule that Lena will shut herself off into her room after this phone call is over. She does that every time her brother calls (and on occasion her mother), and Kara has picked up enough information about her roommate to know Lena will appreciate a hard drink and some food. She hasn’t said so or anything, but every time Kara knocks three times on the door and leaves a plate outside, it will re-emerge an hour later completely empty.

Lena’s voice grows louder despite the distance, and Kara turns on the stereo out of respect for her roommate's privacy. Lena hates the stereo and all it stands for; she argues it is outdated, and they have numerous pieces of technology that are less bulky and fully able to connect to radio stations. But Kara keeps it around anyway, because she still likes buying CD’s (and maybe to bother Lena, which is a bonus).

Blink-182 is playing on that alternative station Alex likes. Kara cranks it up as she cooks, singing under her breath as she sautes bell peppers and onions, ignoring the rumble of her stomach and the tight belt of her work pants still digging into her hips. “Say it ain’t so, I will not go,” she practically yells, poking her head into the fridge for the tofu that Lena always keeps. Kara personally won’t touch the stuff, but Lena is trying to eat less meat. It cuts up easily enough, even though Kara isn’t sure what the proper technique is.

She leaves the finished plate and drink outside after it’s done, rapping on Lena’s door in tune with The White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army,” and then finally has some dinner herself. Since the tofu is unappetizing, Kara stores the rest of the stir fry in a container for Lena to take for lunch, and opts for a sandwich. She eats while scrolling through her notifications (she owes Nia twenty bucks, and so far Nia has been clogging up her phone with Venmo requests all well over $500), and keeps the radio on just for background noise.

That’s probably why she doesn’t even notice when Lena approaches; Kara has barely begun to type a text to Nia swearing to bring some cash next time she visits when a sharp voice declares,

“You confuse me.”

Which. Is not at all what Kara expected from her usually empty kitchen. And, caught exceptionally off guard, she nearly falls off her chair. “What the—Lena,” she sputters, righting herself. Unfortunately, the crust of her sandwich is a casualty of the surprise, and she watches as it crumples devastatingly on the floor.

Lena is not half as concerned about the fate of her dinner, and she stalks forward to jab a finger at Kara’s chest. “You confuse me,” she repeats.

Kara blinks. Then blinks again. “Um, okay,” she says. “…why?”

A strange, strangled noise rises from Lena’s mouth, and she appears angrier than Kara has ever seen. (Well, except for that one time that Kara did laundry and flooded the apartment laundromat, which had other pissed off tenants leaving mean messages for two weeks straight). “Because,” angrier-than-usual Lena says, “you do shit like cook food for me and don’t even say anything.”

“What do you want me to say?” Kara frowns, not sure where this conversation is going. “If you want I can start saying ‘Hey Lena, I made dinner’ every time.”

“You and I don’t do dinner,” Lena says, and it sounds like an accusation. “Every time I get off the phone, you decide to leave food outside my door. Why? What on Earth compels you to do that?”

“Because you’re always upset afterwards,” Kara says slowly. “And I thought you could use some cheering up, or at least a drink.”

“Whiskey,” Lena notes. “It’s always whiskey. And it’s never a cheap brand.”

“Well, yeah,” Kara says, gesturing pointedly to Lena’s designer work clothes (that she never seems to be without; Kara’s not sure Lena even owns pajamas). “You would probably accuse me of poisoning you if I gave you anything less.”

Lena narrows her eyes. “You don’t owe me anything,” she says. “So whatever this is, you can stop it.”

“What do you mean, ‘whatever this is’?” Kara repeats incredulously. “I’m just being nice!”

“I never asked you to be ‘nice’!”

Kara exhales, and reminds herself that it is illegal to strangle people. Especially since she is Lena’s roommate, and will therefore be suspect #1. Kara has never been a violent person, but her roommate just manages to test her limits.

“Look,” Kara says patiently, “I give you my sister’s whiskey, and she doesn’t care because she is trying to give up drinking. And I’m not a frequent cook or anything, but I can still throw together a plate because I know you don’t cook at all. That’s it! I don’t have a hidden agenda, or some secret plot here. I’m just being friendly.”

“We are not friends, Kara Danvers,” Lena says. “And I know exactly what this is, even if you refuse to acknowledge it.”

God, what an insufferable—“Okay, know-it-all,” Kara says, instead of the ruder words echoing through her head. “What am I doing?”

Lena’s jaw clenches noticeably. “You pity me,” she accuses. “You look down at my relationship with my family, and—and I don’t want your sympathy, or your stupid food, anymore.”

“If you wanted me to back off, that’s fine,” Kara says, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “But I don’t pity you, or feel sorry for you. Heck, with your track record, I’d feel more sympathy for your family. They seem to be on the other end of some nasty phone calls.”

Lena’s expression darkens. “You don’t know my family.”

“I don’t know you very well, either,” Kara retorts, and she turns back to her phone where three new Venmo requests are waiting (two of them well in the thousands range; Nia must think she’s hilarious). “Message received, okay? I’ll leave you alone.”

At first, Kara assumes that's the end of it—assumes that Lena is going to stalk off, and leave a strongly worded post-it on the fridge later that night for Kara to wake up to. That has always been how their relationship works; they fight, reiterate how much they hate living together, and go right back to ignoring each other.

But Lena doesn't walk away. Instead she sighs, and at that unexpected sound Kara looks up just in time to catch Lena frowning. “I—” Lena begins, and then she pauses uncomfortably before getting the words out. “I'm...sorry. I have been having the worst day, and it’s—it’s rude of me to take it out on you.”

“Okay,” says Kara dumbly, because she’s not sure what to respond. Lena never apologizes. Ever. It’s about as rare as, well, Kara actually doing her chores on time. “Thanks?”

Lena bites her lip, glances away. “You’re welcome,” she says stiffly. And this time she leaves—leaves, and abandons the plate of food Kara left her on the edge of the table.

Kara looks down at her phone. There are ten texts waiting from Nia, and about double that of Venmo requests. But she can’t shake the feeling that she is forgetting something, and it’s more than a twenty dollar bill. “Wait,” she blurts out, “Lena. What—what does that mean? You were an asshole to me, and I was an asshole right back, so why are you apologizing?”

“Well, you are more than welcome to apologize too,” Lena says, pausing in the kitchen doorway. She has a quizzical expression on her face, a kind of raw confusion that Kara has never seen before. Without the sharp clenched jaw and the angry eyes, she’s…just a girl. A girl, with a nervous tic of wringing her fingers together. A girl, despite her guarded nature, who is gazing right back at Kara as if she has no right to.

“Do you want me to apologize to you?”

A beat. “Not really,” Lena says. “I don’t—want that. You’re right, you don’t know me. Or my family. We’re nothing to each other, and I can’t expect you to know how complicated my relationship with them is.”

“Still,” Kara says, and she scratches the back of her neck absentmindedly at the sudden flush of guilt that overtakes her. “I am sorry. It was rude of me to, um, say that. Like if your family is a bunch of serial killers, who am I to say you’re worse than that?”

Lena scrunches her nose in a manner that is sort of cute. “Serial killers? Really?”

Kara shrugs—aiming for casual—and really that just looks like attempting nonchalance when suddenly she’s consumed with thoughts about how pretty her roommate is. “Like you said,” she says, “I don’t know your family.”

And, surprisingly, all Lena does is smile. A real smile, the kind that Kara has never witnessed, barely soft and just kind enough. “They’re not,” she says, and unnecessarily clarifies, “serial killers.”

“That you know of,” Kara points out, and Lena’s cautious smile becomes something fuller. That is the only thing that gives Kara the courage to add, “So, now that we have covered the whole you’re not your family thing, are you really not going to have dinner? I cooked tofu for you and everything!”

“You didn’t have to,” Lena argues, because she is defensive to a fault. But she falters immediately after, and sighs again, albeit in a more mellowed tone. “What I meant to say is, I really don’t need you to keep cooking for me. I’m fine.”

“Well what if I want to cook for you?” Kara says, and that is her own fault: she is ready to argue to protect her (noble) intentions. “We don’t have to be friends, if it terrifies you that much—”

“It does not terrify me—”

“—but we can be friendly,” Kara offers, and it’s a testament to her newfound appreciation for her roommate that she manages to even make a sentence. “If you want.”

Lena tilts her head, considering, and this time when she smiles it is curious. “If you knew what I wanted, Kara Danvers,” she says, “your delicate sensibilities would blush to their roots.” And with that odd goodbye, she eventually takes her leave; however, she does take the plate of stir fry with her, so Kara guesses that means they’re on their way to being friendly, if anything.

[shingia]

✗ QUIET HAIKYUU BOYS FLIRTING

here’s how the introverted/quiet haikyuu boys would try to flirt with you (most of them being encouraged/forced by someone else)

-> sakusa, kenma, yamaguchi, ushijima, akaashi, suna, kita

— SAKUSA

sakusa had never felt the need to initiate any kind of contact with anyone ; sure, you looked breathtaking under the bar lights, but never in a million years would he risk getting out of his comfort zone. at least not without a little (big) push from komori. when he finally agreed to go sit next to you at the counter, it actually took you a few minutes to notice him, when he half-heartedly asked about your drink.

« how is it ? »

« pretty good » you smiled, a bit taken aback by this unannounced stranger. « um... do you want a taste ? »

he looked down at the glass you were handing him before letting out a disgusted “fuck no”. but after seeing komori desperately wave his arms from the other side of the counter, sakusa thought he could try to make an effort and proposed to pay for your next drink, still looking as uncomfortable as ever but also lowkey proud of himself.

— KENMA

kuroo was a pain in the ass, and kenma knew he wouldn’t know peace unless he gathered the courage to finally make a move after months spent daydreaming about you. and so he did, but definitely not as kuroo expected.

« hi, um... my friend over there is harassing me to come and talk to you so can you please pretend i just said something funny ? »

he looked very fidgety and you noticed he was nervously chewing the inside of his cheeks.

« sure, i got you » you smiled before tipping your head back and letting out the most realistic laugh you could fake. but it turned out that your laugh was actually very communicative, and next thing you knew, you two were actually laughing together at the stupidity of this situation, while kuroo was proudly watching from afar.

— YAMAGUCHI

to say that yamaguchi had rehearsed would be an understatement. he had his script memorised and really hoped that your answers would be the ones expected. the last period of the morning had barely ended that he was already heading to his locker with a determined yet terrified look on his face. he knew your locker was right next to his, and that he needed to seize upon the little timespan he had before you left.

« hi... yourhairlooksnicetoday » he blurted out without any emotion in his voice but pure panic.

you looked at him with your eyebrows lifted, taking a few seconds to process his words before flashing him a bright smile. « oh thank you ! i really like your hair too ! »

oh. that wasn’t planned. yamaguchi’s thoughts started to race, yet his body remained frozen. and after a few seconds spent awkwardly looking at each other, you finally revived the conversation. « we should eat together someday ! see you later ! ».

poor yamaguchi’s heart was definitely pounding in his throat when you waved at him before walking away.

— USHIJIMA

sure, ushijima wouldn’t have minded getting closer to you, but flirting was something he definitely wasn’t comfortable with. however, he thought he could give it a try and began dropping subtle hints. but so subtle that they were absolutely unnoticeable. for example, he considered complimenting your new school uniform the utmost form of flirting.

and when you finally realized what he was trying to do after several months, you decided to make his job easier by creating perfect opportunities for him to make a move.

« i don’t have anything planned this weekend, i’m probably going to bore myself to death... »

« don’t you have a test to study for next week ? »

well, he was certainly more oblivious than expected. but that doesn’t mean he didn’t accept your proposition to study together during the weekend. gladly accepted actually.

— AKAASHI

it drove bokuto crazy to know that akaashi had a crush on you but had never ever tried anything. so he considered it his responsibility to prep his friend for the moment he’d finally make a move.

fukurōdani had just won their first match of the season and akaashi was waiting for you outside the locker room, already a bundle of nerves. after congratulating him, you handed him his jacket that you had kept with you in the stands. « it kept me warm while i was freezing up there, so thank you », you smiled.

ok, now seemed like the perfect opportunity to put bokuto’s tips in practice. even though he knew they were terrible, they seemed like his only option. as calmly as he could, the setter took a deep breath before letting out something he never thought he’d ever say : « maybe because it’s made of boyfriend material »

as much as you didn’t want to shake his confidence, you couldn’t help but facepalm at this awful pickup line. and akaashi didn’t need your reaction to realize how terrible it was.

« i... apologize for that. let me do this my way : would you like to go out with me someday ? »

bonus : years later in your relationship, neither of you ever had the courage to tell bokuto that it wasn’t thanks to his pickup line

— SUNA

« wow, i didn’t think ya’d be such a wimp... it’s been two hours, just do something already ! »

« i’ll do it when i’ll feel like it », suna shrugged atsumu’s teasing off. it was true that he’d had his eyes on you ever since the team entered the restaurant to celebrate their victory in today’s match. but suna did not want to bother with the whole “flirting thing” that atsumu tried to talk him into. however, he stayed true to his words and, indeed, came to talk to you when he finally felt like it.

near the counter, you were waiting for your friends to get out of the bathroom when your eyes laid on the intriguing boy that was walking towards you. behind him, his entire table was staring with impatient faces. but like i said, suna didn’t want to bother with flirting and cut to the chase. very nonchalantly, he grabbed a pen from the pencil pot next to the cash register and started scribbling something on your receipt.

he handed it back to you a few seconds later, faintly shrugging « here. i usually reply fast ». your eyes lowered on the receipt, where you could read the eleven digits of his phone number. and just like that, he went back to his table.

— KITA

no one in their right mind would ever have dared to tease Kita about how long it was taking him to make a move on you ; simply because everyone knew he had already rigorously thought about how and when he’d do it. and they were right, he wanted to be prepared. but talking to you face to face was much different than training in front of his mirror.

he had thought about complimenting your appearance, but it was the last thing he cared about. kita was a man of few words, and he wanted you to know exactly why he liked you in the least complicated way possible. and it took him a lot of courage to do so, even with so much preparation.

«  i don’t know if someone ever told ya that but... » he started, fiddling with the straps of his bag. there was no going back now, you were all ears.

« ...i really enjoy talking to you. with some people it can feel like a waste of time but... you’re always relevant and uh... well, i wouldn’t mind going out with you someday. if you’re ok with it of course »

[jungshookz]

teeny tidbits: taehyung needs y/n to make out with him & she’s only doing it to be a good roommate

if the title didn’t get your attention i don’t know what will 

pairing; roommate!taehyung x reader

genre; this sits right on the line between nsfw and sfw?? i think the term we’ve established for these kinds of drabbles is smalmost smut,.,. smerhaps smut.,., smaybe smut.,,. stuckwithyouniverse!! roomie!couple but before they got together just because i wanted to see cocky tae again :’)) 

wordcount; 1.8k 

                                      »»————-　♡　————-««

one of the things that you enjoy most about going to a university with a big campus are the nice, relaxing walks along the tree-lined promenades while drowning out the sound of distracting chatter with your own music

after all, it’s nice to catch a bit of a break while going from one class to the next 

and you can get your steps in for the day at the same time which is an added bonus 

who doesn’t like bragging about getting 10,000 steps in on a daily basis?

and not to mention- 

“hEY-!” you let out a shriek when you feel someone’s hand wrap around your elbow from behind, and the next thing you know, you’re being pulled off to the side behind a tree and-

“jesus christ, taehyung-” you let out a breath of relief when you see that it’s only taehyung and you reach up to yank your earbuds out when you realise he’s saying something to you

“-ith me.” he blinks, “okay?”

“what??” you frown, reaching over to rub your elbow soothingly seeing that he practically manhandled you a second ago, “i didn’t catch that.”

“i need you to make out with me.” taehyung claps his hands together before taking a step forward and opening his arms towards you, “like- right now.”

your eyes widen in alarm and you resist the urge to slap him across the face 

“wha-” you shove your hand against his chest instinctively to keep him from coming any closer, “i’m sorry, what?!”

“i think the instructions were pretty clear,” taehyung’s shoulders drop and he lets out a quiet groan, “i need you to shove your tongue down my throat in the next three seconds-”

“yeah, i got that-!” you scowl, “you pretended to not know who i was two weeks ago when i said hi to you in the cafeteria and now you want me to kiss-”

“no, not kiss-” taehyung interrupts, holding a finger up to shut you up, “i need, like, a feverish, dry-humping session against this tree level makeout session-” he raises both his hands before shaking his head and taking a small step back, “okay, let me explain very quickly: do you remember that girl i brought to the apartment over the weekend?”

you let out a short laugh before rolling your eyes so hard that you swear you can see your pink, wrinkly brain that’s also laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation 

of course all of this is about a girl

the day taehyung doesn’t have a girl problem is the day the world ends 

“i locked myself in my room to specifically avoid meeting the girl you brought to the apartment over the weekend,” you cross your arms before letting out a huff, “because the last time you brought a girl over, she thought i was your maid and she asked me to make an egg-white omelette for her the next morning- which i did because i’m nice... and i guess i did get a twenty dollar tip, which was pretty sweet-”

“okay, whatever, it’s not important-“ taehyung reaches over to pinch your lips together and you immediately swat his hand away, “anyways, i thought it was pretty clear that it was a one time hit-and-run situation but apparently she thinks that we’re dating now-”

“oh, of course you think that because your ego is the size of planet earth-!” you scoff in disbelief, “because after spending one night getting not-very-romantically railed by you, she’s suddenly madly in love with you and your magical penis-”

“y/n, she took a picture of my class schedule in my room and she’s been waiting for me at the end of every one of my classes for the past four days-” taehyung hisses, pausing to lean over so he can check to see if his brand new lover is still hot on his tail, “i tried to break things off after she showed up to my class on monday and she just laughed in my face and said that i didn’t know what i was talking about-”

“what?” you gasp quietly before shuddering, “oh, god. that’s a little creepy- wait, but i still don’t understand how she came to the conclusion that you guys were dating if it wasn’t even explicitly stated that you were officially boyfriend and girlfriend-”

“i don’t know!“ taehyung snaps, “look, can you just do this for me first? i’ll answer whatever stupid questions you have later-”

“first of all, i’m only asking questions to help you figure this out, and second of all-” you purse your lips before raising both your eyebrows, “maybe if you were more communicative with your sexual partners, you wouldn’t have any of these issues in the first place- have you ever thought about that?”

“can you please not be such a dweeb for one second-?! c’mon, just-” taehyung leans over again and his eyes widen in panic before he’s ducking back behind the tree, slapping his hands on your shoulders, “y/n, there’s no time. she’s coming! fuck, she’s- can you please just do this one thing for me-”

“no way!” you scoff, shaking your head before brushing his hands off your shoulders, “i’m always picking up after you! you made your bed and now you have to lie in it-”

“what are you talking about?” taehyung frowns, “you know i never make my bed-”

“it’s a saying, you idiot-”

“what about if i cover the groceries for the rest of the month, hm?” he clasps his hands together before shaking them slightly, his eyes wide and pleading, “please??”

you open your mouth to reject him again before quickly closing it again 

hm

groceries are expensive

and if taehyung’s taking care of the bill for the rest of the month, that means you can buy whatever you want and he won’t be able to say no…

plus you can use your share of the grocery money to treat yourself to something nice 

oOh you could get yourself those platform boots you’ve been eyeing online 

...fine. 

you’re doing this to get free groceries and to be a good, helpful roommate 

you uncross your arms before looking back up at taehyung, “throw in the laundry and i’ll-”

“deal!”

before you get the chance to finish what you were saying, taehyung slinks an arm around your waist and yanks you towards him 

it’s only a millisecond later that he swoops down to slant his mouth over yours, the alarm bells going off in your head the moment you realize that the two of you are actually really truly 100% honest-to-god kissing right now 

he grabs your hands and forces you to cup his face (so it’ll help with hiding his identity) before he places his hands on your hips and gives you gentle squeeze 

and for a brief moment in time, you find yourself thinking that taehyung is... most certainly not the worst kisser in the world...

he tastes like that strawberry gum he’s always chewing... 

and his lips are awfully soft... 

and you don’t know why you never noticed but the smell of his cologne is really making you feel some type of way... 

...and did you just hear a soft moan?

“boo!”

the moment his lovely little girlfriend rears her head around the tree, taehyung pulls away and proceeds to bury his face into the crook of your neck, the hairs on your arms prickling to life when you feel him plant a kiss under your ear 

“oh! i’m so sorry-” she gasps before covering her mouth and letting out a giggle, “i thought i saw my boyfriend run behind here and i figured he was just playing a sexy little game of hide and seek with me-”

“ah, well-!” you gasp when taehyung’s hand suddenly slides down so that he can grab your right thigh and hitch it up against his waist, your cheeks instantly warming when he pushes you up against the tree, “i-i guess you thought wrong because behind this tree is me and-” you clear your throat quietly to prepare yourself for the words that are about to come out of your mouth, “me and my boyfriend playing a sexy little game of… public indecency...?”

“aw... cute! i’ll just leave you two lovebirds alone-” she crinkles her nose before wiggling her fingers at you, her right eye dropping in a wink, “i can’t wait to do that with my guy- i just have to find him first, that’s all...”

“i have a feeling he’s a lot closer than you thin- mmph!” taehyung reaches up and turns your face back towards him so that he can shut you up before you blow his cover 

you barely register taehyung’s lady friend bidding the two of you adieu because of how preoccupied you are at the moment, all five senses clouded with nothing but taehyung taehyung taehyung taehyung taehyung

the feverish making out from a second ago begins to slow, taehyung setting your leg down gently before he’s placing his hand on your waist again 

your arms are still securely wrapped around his neck and he can’t help but wonder how it’d feel to have your fingers tangled in his hair 

somehow, something about all of this just feels... right... 

but it’s probably just all in his head, right?

“mm... we should do this more often...” he jokes, oddly delighted to see your hazy eyes immediately lower to his lips when he pulls away, “thoughts?”  

...

“-!” you shove taehyung away from you when it hits you that the two of you no longer need to be making out and you clear your throat before reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, “y-you can quit slobbering all over me now-” 

“slobbering?” he laughs lightly, raising a brow before reaching up to ruffle his hair, “i don’t think i need to remind you that you seemed pretty enthusiastic to have my tongue in your mouth a second ago-”

“i was- i was method acting!” you argue, your voice wavering slightly, “i didn’t- i just- i only played along for the groceries, remember?”

“whatever helps you sleep at night, darling...” taehyung whistles lowly, shoving his hands into his pockets before turning on his heel, “thanks for the help!”

“i’m serious!” you frown, stamping your foot against the ground as you ball your hands into fists at your sides, “this meant nothing to me, taehyung! do you hear me?!”

“uh-huh, i hear you!” taehyung turns to smirk at you over his shoulder, “see you at home, girlfriend!”

teeny tidbits masterlist

[bullet-prooflove]

There’s no surrender, 'cause there’s no retreat

Commited!Series:

The Longest Time - Greg has wanted you for the longest time.

You - You and Greg sneak a moment after spending some time apart.

Secrets - Greg doesn’t want to be a secret any longer.

Drunk Dial - Greg drunk dials your ex-husband after the Christmas Party

Crossing Lines - Your ex-husband shows up at Greg's apartment.

It’s three in the morning when the phone on Greg’s desk starts to ring. It’s his fourth weekend on shift as Gold Commander and he’s dealing with the paperwork from another major incident, because this is London and apparently you can’t go five minutes without one. He doesn’t even get to leave the Yard when something kicks off, instead he gets sequestered to the Control Room to strategically manage the event.

“Lestrade.” He mutters, cradling the phone under his chin as he continues typing.

“Hey it’s me.” You say and he finds himself smiling. “Look outside.”

He heads to the window, using his fingers to separate the blinds so that he can peer out the window. You’re standing on the steps outside, bundled up against the cold in your beanie and his grey scarf. You hold up two cups of take-out coffee and something warm just blossoms in his chest because despite the shit Castor’s throwing at the two of you, you’re both putting in the effort to make it work.

A couple of days after the confrontation at his apartment you’d found yourself transferred from the Yard to Whitehall CID, covering the night shift. You were appealing the decision, but the process took time. The result is you’re working opposite shifts and Greg’s covering weekends until further notice. It makes seeing each other tough but you refuse to surrender because this relationship, it means the world to the both of you.

You’re a sight for sore eyes. Your cheeks are flushed from the cool air, and you look beautiful under the lights from the sign. It’s been a couple of days since he’s laid eyes on you, and he misses you fiercely.

“Hi.” He murmurs, leaning in close.

The scent of his aftershave floods your senses, something masculine with a smoky undertone. The heat from his body rolls off his skin and it ignites something inside of you, because it’s been a few weeks since you’ve been with this man, and you miss the sensation of his skin pressing against yours. His fingertips guide your chin up so that your lips are inches apart, when he kisses you it’s soft and tender, everything you’ve been missing over the past couple of days. You moan into his mouth, and you feel him smile as his thumb chases along the line of your jaw.

“You’ve no idea how much I want to take you to bed right now.” He tells you, his nose trailing along the length yours.

“We both know it would take longer than the ten minutes we have.” You tease him as you hand him the takeout cup of coffee from the Costa vending machine in 24-hour Tesco Express.

One of the most challenging parts of working the nightshift finding places to get supplies at stupid o’clock in the morning.

“I don’t know.” He smiles, his fingertips trailing over the fabric of the scarf as he gives you a heated look. “I kind of like the challenge, me down on my knees…”

The blush that creeps up your cheeks is fucking adorable.

“I mean if you think you could do it in ten minutes…” You murmur, your gaze straying back to the building.

His fingers thread through yours as he draws you towards the entrance.

“Ten minutes.” He promises you. “Ten minutes in my office is all I need.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

@kmc1989 @witches-unruly-heart

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 7 - Spirits, sorrow and surprise

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 6 -- Part 8

Summary: The boys celebrate the beginning of their Christmas break with a drink (or several) at their regular bar.

Warnings: (Vague) mention of blowjob, consumption of alcohol, fluff, some angst? Mentions of domestic violence. Tell me if I'm missing any.

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: This one was fun to write! Lots of interactions between the boys, intro of the next girlfriend, and for anyone who's been curious; by the end of this you'll know how Sy and Dani know each other.

Timeline-wise we're in the weekend after the first 6 chapters. I'd planned for ch7 to be a Charles-chapter, but I have 5 Christmas chapters and a NYE party to write and post (not including this one) meaning I'm hopelessly behind. Please forgive me.

@peaches1958 @keanureevesisbae Sorry if I'm keeping y'all busy ;)

“Fuck me, one more quiz from Laferrier and I’m switching majors,” Charles groaned as he and Walker left the lecture hall. 

“Be glad you missed the last one, that was much worse,” August replied sourly. 

“You aced the last one.” The surprise in Charles’ voice caused August to shoot a confused look at his friend.

“I fail to see how those things are mutually exclusive,” he shrugged, his voice thick with the kind of arrogance only types like Walker or Napoleon could get away with. 

“Whatever, we’ve got two weeks of sweet freedom ahead of us,” Charles laughed. Walker happened to know Charles was hopelessly behind on nearly all assignments for all of his classes, but he couldn’t feel bad. The man couldn’t balance business and pleasure for shit, and all of this was his own fault. It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart - he always passed, and with minimal effort - he was just distracted a little too easily. And he was nothing like Mike, either, who was an idiot when it came to most things, but a borderline genius when you put him behind a computer. 

“Sounds like a cause for a celebration,” Marshall turned up next to Charles, somewhat out of the blue, followed by Sherlock, who looked far more awake and confident than his friend. 

“You look like you could use a drink,” Charles laughed, slapping Marshall on the back. He did look tired - not that that was unusual, but today it was striking. 

“Just handed in a ten page psych-paper.” Marshall yawned. From the looks of it, he’d been up for the bigger part of the night, if not all of it.

“Keppler?” Walker asked - he was careful, not sure if Marshall had forgiven him for last weekend’s little episode yet. “Liebermann,” Sherlock said. The reply was accompanied by a groan from both Marshall and Walker. The fact that she was insanely hot didn’t make up for the fact that that woman was a fucking harpy. As the four of them walked home, Walker and Marshall talked about the paper some more - Walker had taken the course as an elective the year before. Sherlock gave up on trying to convince Marshall that his assignment was absolutely fine after about six tries. 

“What’s up with you and the orchestra-girl,” Charles grinned. Making Sherlock feel awkward wasn’t the sole purpose of his question, but it was a nice bonus - and easily achieved. 

For once, Sherlock decided to forego his regular answer (‘nothing’) and tell the truth: “Her name is Elena, and we… kissed.” 

“And last week’s rehearsal went so poorly because you were imagining what her boobs look like?” Charles rolled his eyes. It’s not that he was trying to be a nosy, gossiping git, he was just curious. Inappropriately so, according to some - alright, according to most. 

“I don’t have to imagine, I know what they look like.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized he’d even opened it. Walker and Marshall each raised an eyebrow and half-listened to the conversation between Sherlock and Charles while continuing their own. 

“I’m impressed, Holmes. Mildly, but still. I was beginning to think I’d have to take her off your hands,” Charles laughed. The laughter was replaced by a sharp gasp when five fingers suddenly dug painfully into his shoulder and Sherlock appeared in front of him. Walter and August paused their conversation when they noticed what was going on. 

“You so much as look at her wrong and I swear to you, Brandon, you will not walk away in one piece, do you hear me?” Three pairs of eyebrows were raised at this outburst: It very decidedly wasn’t like Sherlock at all to react like this - emotional and rash. He had a far better handle on his temper than August or even Geralt - in fact, none of the guys had been aware that Sherlock Holmes had a temper. Turns out he did, and it was quite intimidating. 

“Sherlock,” Marshall said carefully, “I’m sure Charles was just joking.”

“I’m quite sure he wasn’t.”

Charles looked at him in disbelief. “You seriously think I’m that bad a friend?”

“I don’t think you are, but I can’t trust you aren’t.” Quite frankly, nobody could disagree with that statement. 

“Solo, you have five minutes to finish up with whoever is underneath your desk right now, we’re going out for a drink.” Leon made a face at Walker’s remark - either he was too predictable, or August knew him a little too well. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you didn’t know how to knock,” Leon growled through gritted teeth. Walker barging in unannounced was unwelcome at the best of times, least of all when you were halfway through getting your dick sucked. When August disappeared and slammed the door shut, Leon looked down at the pretty blonde between his knees. 

“Baby, I don’t need five minutes,” she purred, and with a devilish look in her eyes, she returned her attention to what she’d been doing. It wasn’t a lie; barely ten minutes later, Napoleon pulled the door of his room shut behind him. 

“Sorry I’m late!” Mike threw his jacket over the back of the last available chair. 

“No need, we’re grateful,” Sherlock said dryly, “had you been on time, all of us would’ve died of shock.” Everyone laughed at the joke. Nobody seemed to mind that he was the last to get there, but Mike couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty about it. 

“Ask Elena what she thinks of guys who come last.” That one earned him a smack in the head from Marshall as soon as he sat down. 

“Don’t get comfortable, you’re getting the next round,” Marshall told him. A round of drinks for the lot of them was usually an odd combination. The beers were the easy part, but the sometimes unusual whims of the guys who preferred something more decadent - usually August, Napoleon, Charles, Sherlock or, God save the poor bartender, all of the above - had on multiple occasions gotten you desperate looks from personnel. Occasionally, some of the more attractive female bartenders had even refused to sleep with Charles because of the tables consistently time consuming orders -  and Charles rarely struck out. 

“I’ll bring ‘em over, Mike, shift’s almost up, anyway!” Anjelica shouted from behind the bar, signaling you to sit back down. She’d been around long enough to know that waiting around by a bar could make Mikey annoying very quickly. He raised a hand by means of a ‘thank you’ and turned back.

“... as terrible as last week, practice somewhere else.” The group laughed at Leon’s remark, and even though Mike hadn’t heard the beginning of that sentence, he could guess that it was about Sherlock’s unusually bad rehearsal from last Saturday. 

“Yeah, what was that all about?” Sy asked. His voice sounded genuine enough, but his face told a different story. 

“Elena, of course,” Mike said - suggestive eyebrow-wiggle included - as he sat back down. Geralt scowled at both of them, annoyed at how immature they were being. Sherlock looked slightly uneasy, which wasn’t helped by the fact that Leon doubled down on the teasing by bringing up the bets that had been made about the situation between Sherlock and Elena. Right at that moment, Anjelica walked over to the table with the drinks and set them down. 

“Can I sit?” She asked. Without waiting for an answer, she sat down in August’s lap and leaned her elbows on the table, dropping her face in her hands. 

“Soooo?” 

“Anjelica, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Sherlock, my friend Isabelle is on the volleyball team with Elena’s best friend Lahela’s roommate Susanna’s boyfriend’s sister Joanne,” Anjelica said with a sickly sweet smile on her face. Reactions to that sentence were divided between the Got Its and Got It Nots - as was proved by Sy’s eloquent response: “Huh?”

Leon was the one to answer, because he saw Anjelica open her mouth and she would no doubt try to explain the whole thing: “If she wants to know, she’ll find out.” Anjelica approved the summary with a meaningful shrug and another smile. 

“Angie…” Sherlock rarely used Anjelica’s nickname. 

“For God’s sake, man, you snogged her, you didn’t murder her mother,” Charles chuckled. He often shared the more intimate details of his life a little too freely, so this was getting on his nerves.

“Charles, when were you planning on leaving for Christmas?” Geralt interjected - he was thoroughly fed up with the entire conversation. His one-on-one with Sherlock on Friday had been awkward enough - and neither had had to worry about a whole table (and the rest of a room) full of people then. Anjelica was about to protest, but August wasn’t having that. 

“Ange,” he said softly. When she turned to look at him, he just shook his head. The look in his eyes said it all. Charles also finally took the hint. 

“I’m leaving tonight, Henry’s driving me and his sister Mary back. I’ll be back on the twenty-eighth, though. Can’t miss New Year’s Eve here,” he shared a meaningful look with Leon as he said that last bit. The conversation quickly turned to sharing holiday plans with each other. Leon was leaving the next morning, and returning on the 27th, just like Marshall. 

“August?” 

“He’s coming with me,” Anjelica answered before he could say anything. August didn’t look particularly happy about the whole situation - no one dared to suggest he was terrified to meet Anjelica’s family, though they did all consider that a very valid reason to be afraid. 

“That whipped, huh?” Mike said jokingly, already preparing to duck in the event of flying glassware. It was probably a good thing that the man was on his third scotch and he was generally a pretty laid back drunk. 

“What about you, Mikey?” Anjelica asked. Mike just shrugged and told her he wasn’t going home, indicating he didn’t want to talk about it any further, and despite being incredibly curious by nature, Anjelica felt it best not to press the matter. She moved her eyes to Sherlock and nodded at him to ask the same question. 

“Staying to practice for the concert,” he said simply. Under his breath, but poorly disguised, Charles muttered some remark containing the words ‘snog’ and ‘Elena’, which earned him a swift kick in the shins from August - which in turn earned August an approving nod from Geralt. 

“Sy?” Anjelica was now genuinely curious about the last few people at the table. 

“Long as I ain’t plannin’ on apologizin’ to ma’s son of a bitch boyfriend, I ain’t welcome,” he growled. From the look on his face, everyone could tell he had no intention of apologizing. 

“Apologize for what?” Anjelica whispered to August, knowing she probably wouldn’t get much of an answer out of him. She was right: he just made a gesture that meant something along the lines of ‘ask him yourself’, so she repeated the question out loud, to Sy. 

“You ever wonder why I don’t use my first name?” He asked in return. She shook her head. 

“I don’t even think I know your first name.” 

“Nathaniel Evan Syverson,” Sy said, “Evan’s the name of my uncle, ma’s brother. He’s alright. Nathan’s ma’s boyfriend. He takes a li’l too kindly to beatin’ the shit out of her for my taste, so forgive me if I don’t exactly like the guy. She defends the piece of shit tooth ‘n nail, though. You can take that literally.”

“Shit, Sy,” Anjelica put a hand in front of her mouth. He said it so casually, as if it was the most normal thing. “What about you?” She couldn’t quite find the words to ask what she wanted to, but he understood perfectly. 

“Oh he beat on me, too. Think I ain’t got a single rib that he ain’t broken at some point.” “No one ever suspected?”

“Oh, school knew. Never did nothin’, though.” Sy chuckled grimly. “Kept beatin’ on me ‘til I grew too big for him to take. Tried to hit ‘m back once…” 

“What…” She couldn’t say anything else. 

“Ma protected him. Ended up catchin’ my fist herself. That’s when she told me I wasn’t welcome no more ‘til I said I was sorry for tryna hit Nate.” Sy had been staring at the bottle in his hands for the entire duration of his story, which meant he was surprised and a bit startled by the arms that wrapped around his shoulders all of a sudden. He patted her arm softly. 

“‘S alright, Ange, but thanks.” He was even more surprised when Anjelica pulled in a chair and sat next to him. 

“Is that why you and August…” She had no idea how to finish the sentence she started, and she didn’t have to. Sy knew exactly what she was asking about. Everyone at that table did. 

“Anjelica, what’s that?” Sy carefully grabbed her hand to get a better look at her wrist, where bluish-purple peaked from under her sleeves. She shook her hair back and smiled at him. 

“It’s nothing, Sy,” she said sweetly, “nothing to worry about.” Everything could have been alright, if Mike hadn’t come into the kitchen at that moment, which made Anjelica turn her head. Sy’s eyes went wide when he saw the four spots on the side of her neck, and he grabbed her chin to search the other side for a matching one. When he found it, he stared at her for a while, connecting the dots as he gently raised his hand to her throat and hovered his fingers over the marks. 

“Where is he?”

“Sy…”

“Where. Is. He?”

“Where is who?” Unfortunately for August, it was August who asked.

“You…” What came out of Sy’s throat was more vibration than sound; a low growl, dripping with pure, unadulterated rage. “I’m gonna kill you.” And without further warning, he lunged forward - practically through Mike - toward August, grabbing him by the shoulders and pinning him against the wall. 

“Fuck!” Mike yelled as he jumped out of the way to avoid being tackled. 

“Sy!” Anjelica was on the verge of tears, looking helplessly at Mike as she reached for Sy’s arms and tried to pull him away from August, “Sy, it’s not what you think!” 

“Sy, let him go, man,” Mike tried. From the look on his face, Anjelica could tell he was shocked. August, on the other hand, looked completely calm. 

“Please let go of me, Syverson, so I can explain.” He said it so matter-of-factly it was almost comical in this situation. 

“If you think I’m gon’ let you justify beatin’ the fuck outta ya girl, you’re fuckin’ insane!”

“Sy,” Anjelica tried again, “that’s not…” He ignored her pleading again. When Sy pulled his arm back to punch Walker, Mike grabbed his arm. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the muscle to deal with a guy of Sy’s size, especially not when he was angry like this. Fortunately, they’d been making enough noise for the whole house to check out the situation, which quickly escalated to a full-blown fight between the two. 

It had taken four guys - Geralt, Marshall, Charles and Mike - to pull the two apart, and they hadn’t managed before Sy got a couple of good blows in. Leon had taken care of Anjelica, who had curled up in a corner, scared that Sy would make good on his word to kill her boyfriend - friend, date, hookup… whatever they’d been back then. What had followed the fight was a lengthy and awkward conversation between the guys about the nature of Angie and August’s relationship, which ended with Sy stating very clearly that he neither understood nor supported the dynamic, but that he’d accept that it was their choice and none of his business. He’d never explained, though, why he’d had such a strong reaction to begin with. 

“Yeah,” Sy finally answered Anjelica’s half-asked question. She gave him another hug - letting him know that she understood now - before walking back to August, who pulled her back into his lap. 

“You knew.” It wasn’t a question: The look in his eyes was more than enough for Anjelica to figure it out. 

“I did.” 

“Why did you never tell me?” 

“Wasn’t my story to tell, Angie.” Anjelica replied to that by rolling her eyes and then turned back around. 

“Alright, where were we?” She asked cheerfully with a hint of that thing women did when they told you ‘it’s fine, do whatever you want’ when in reality, it wasn’t fine and you definitely shouldn’t do whatever you want. August knew he hadn’t heard the last of this yet, but for now, they were going to let it rest. “Geralt, your plans?”

“One moment,” he replied while holding up his phone. He answered it at the table, which Anjelica had found rude when she’d first met Geralt, but now she knew exactly what he was going to say. 

“Sol? I’m at the bar with the guys, can I call you back?” He barely waited for an answer before he hung up. 

“Sorry about that,” he said, “to answer your question: Me and my brothers don’t celebrate Christmas, so there’s no real reason for me to leave here.”

“You have brothers?” Anjelica asked, surprised that this had never come up before. According to Geralt, it was rather a long story, but she wanted to hear it nonetheless. 

The other side of the table had moved on to a different subject altogether. Over the past hour, Sy and Marshall had been looking at Mike, who checked his phone nervously every five minutes. He seemed kind of sad. 

“What’s up with you?” Marshall asked, one eyebrow raised. 

“Dani,” Mike sighed, “we’ve barely talked since last weekend, and I have no idea what could’ve happened or if I did something wrong or something…” If there was anything he wanted to add, it was put on hold by Charles asking about the next round of drinks. 

“Sucks,” Sy said dryly - a little too much, even for his doing. 

“Can’t think of anything?” Marshall half-joked. He raised his hands apologetically when Mike shot him a dirty look. 

“Alright, assuming it’s not you - ow! - I noticed she freaked out when she saw you,” he nodded in Sy’s direction, “what was that about?”

“I thought I saw something! Wasn’t sure though…” Mike said almost triumphantly. Sy looked at the beer in his hands, nervously tearing at the label. The atmosphere turned more awkward with every passing second. 

“Look, Mikey…” That didn’t sound good. In fact, it sounded so bad that Marshall’s mouth fell open when he realized what Sy was trying to tell Mike. 

“You fucked her,” Mike groaned in disbelief. Then, he fell silent for an uncharacteristically long moment before he started laughing and wondered out loud why he and Sy always went for the same girls. 

“Dunno,” Sy laughed in reply, “good taste?”

“The most we can say is that you have similar taste,” Sherlock interjected, “that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s good.”

“At least now we know that Dani has terrible taste in men,” Marshall noted, “sleeping with just one of them could have been a lapse of judgment, but both of these jerks?”

“We can’t rule out charity,” Sherlock chuckled. 

“Watch it, Holmes,” Mike said, obviously faking the threatening edge to his voice. 

“So, we alright, Mikey?” Sy asked with an apologetic smile on his face. 

“As long as it wasn’t somewhere in the past month,” Mike laughed - he clearly wasn’t mad, which made Sy sigh with relief. 

“Orientation party,” he said, “we’re good, then?”

“Yeah, no big deal!” And he meant it - Mike was easy going even on his worst days. 

The boys got louder with every new round of drinks. August, at some point, even abandoned his extreme aversion to PDA, which the others found quite amusing. 

“God, Walker, keep your hands to yourself,” Geralt sneered. It surprised the others; he was usually the last person to care about others’ inappropriate behavior - and certainly the last to ever comment on it. Anjelica, Sherlock and Marshall were the only ones to pick up on the hint of jealousy in his voice. A gust of icy wind rolled into the bar when the door opened, but other than some shivers, no one took too much notice of it. Charles, Leon and Sy, who were sitting on the side of the table that faced the door, saw and recognized the tall blonde woman who entered the room. She was quick to raise a finger to her lips to signal that they should remain quiet, and then made her way over to their table, until she was standing right behind Geralt. 

“You miss her.” Sherlock said when he heard the tinge of jealousy in the dark voice of his friend. Geralt just scoffed and nodded by means of a reply, not looking up from the glass in his hand.

“You don’t have to,” the blonde behind him said. Geralt jerked his head around so fast that any normal human would have pulled a muscle - or broken their neck. Part of it came from the sheer surprise of being snuck up on - that was a very hard thing to do to Geralt, even when he was a few drinks in - and partly because he recognized that voice immediately. He’d been dreaming of hearing that voice this close to him for weeks. Another fraction of a second later, he stood up - without much subtlety; she had to step aside to avoid taking a chair to the knee. 

“Sol?” He stared at her in disbelief. Was it really her? Was she really here? He reached one hand to the side of her face, slowly and hesitantly. Whoever looked closely enough could see that he almost trembled. It was as if he didn’t trust his own eyes. Until his fingers touched her skin. In a split second, he pulled her against his body and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was far too passionate - and involved entirely too much tongue - to be appropriate in public, but the boys let it slide. Even Walker, who clearly fought with the desire to throw Geralt’s comment from earlier back into his face. These two hadn’t seen each other in months - they deserved this. 

“Solveig,” Sherlock answered the unasked question on Anjelica’s face, “Geralt’s girlfriend of… at least two years, they were together when I moved in.” 

“We’re indulging them because they’re long distance and he hasn’t seen her in four months,” August added. Anjelica chuckled and seemed to decide that that little fact made the entire situation endearing rather than gross.

“Five months and two weeks.” Geralt and Solveig had finally managed to tear themselves away from the other and sat down. Unlike Anjelica, Solveig grabbed a chair and sat between Geralt and Sherlock. “And we’ve been together for three years.”

“Three years, today,” Solveig added, “December twenty-second. Midwinter.” 

“A long night, indeed,” Charles joked.

“Hm.” It was Geralt’s favorite multi-purpose remark. This time, it was mostly a chuckle, while the expression on his face suggested there was at least some truth to the statement. After congratulations from everyone, and a quickly squeezed in introduction of Solveig to Anjelica and vice versa, Geralt got up to get his girl a drink.

“Are you staying with us, Sol,” Sherlock asked. 

“For the holidays, if that’s alright,” she looked around the table; nobody seemed to have any problems with it. 

“I’d have loved to see them do anything about it,” Geralt laughed. Everyone shuddered at the thought of having to deal with an angry Geralt. “You’re staying two weeks, then?”

“I’m staying until I graduate,” she answered shyly - it was clear that this hadn’t been brought up between them before, “I was offered a place to finish my master’s here.”

“You never…”

“I didn’t want you to think I did it for you,” she whispered apologetically, “I didn’t want me to think I did it for you.”

“Did you find a place here?” Geralt asked it carefully, but everyone knew he was praying to any god who would listen that she wouldn’t ask to move in with him. Not that Walker or Sherlock wouldn’t be quick to point out that the lease didn’t allow that, but still. 

“I did, I will get the keys on the second of January,” she smiled. Solveig knew exactly what the intentions behind that question had been. Talk at the table shifted to dinner - Mike and Sy were getting hungry, which meant one of them got jittery and the other cranky. Luckily, the bar served good burgers. 

“Geralt, why don’t you take Solveig home to get settled in,” Marshall said casually, “she looks beat from the flight.” Mike opened his mouth to say something but was shut up by a kick in the shins from Sherlock. 

“Don’t you need to eat,” Anjelica asked Solveig with a hint of concern in her voice. Both Napoleon and August answered, suggesting takeout and leftover pasta from the day before, respectively. 

Solveig and Geralt didn’t linger - as per everyone’s expectations. Anjelica wondered out loud whether the guys had a problem with Solveig, which resulted in laughter from her audience. 

“They haven’t seen each other for nearly six months,” Sy chuckled and, after he finished his beer, started taking orders for the next round.

“We owe it to them to give them the house for a few hours,” Napoleon added with a grin on his face. 

“We owe it to ourselves to stay away for a few hours,” Mike snickered. Everyone cracked up at that; truer words had never been spoken.

-> Part 8

[the-cult-of-russo]

gotta know how u think billy would be as a dad with his kids :D

I had so many requests for Dad!Billy headcanons 😭

I hope you're ready for this chaotic ramble.

Please remember this is my Billy I'm writing

-

You know those parents who take like a million pictures of their kid and show them to everyone? The kind that talks about their kid nonstop to anyone who'll listen? Their family, friends, the poor random old lady at the store that just wants to buy some damn milk.

That's Billy.

He's such an unbelievably proud parent, his pride for his kids knows no bounds. It doesn't even need to be some kind of milestone worth celebrating, everything his kid does makes him proud. You better believe when his baby has an explosive crap and ruins their clothes, he's boasting about it the next day to Frank and the guys at Anvil.

-

He's incredibly protective. Murder is a possibility if his kids in danger. He wants nothing more than to keep his kids safe. If they're being bullied, it takes all of his willpower to stop himself from kicking the kids ass for doing that to his kid. He's not above picking a fight with the bullies dad though if they don't get their little shit head in check and also making it known to the principle that this shit won't fly with him.

~

"Mr Russo, I don't think you understand how serious this is. Your son broke a kids nose," the principle mutters with a glare.

Billy tilts his head, regarding the teacher with those unsettling eyes that has the old man squirming in his seat.

"You’re damn right he did," Billy replies seriously, a proud tone to his voice. His dark eyes cut to his left where his son is, practically his double. As Billy smirks, unable to help himself, his son wears the same one although he's lowering his head to hide his amusement.

"We don't tolerate that behaviour here, Mr Russo," the principle huffs. Billy's eyes harden then as his eyes narrow, sitting forward in his chair just the right amount to be imposing. The second the man leans back he knows it worked.

"You know what I don't tolerate? My kid bein' bullied. You assholes won't do shit to stop it, so I say let the little fucker get a taste of his own medicine. Serves him right for messin' with a Russo," he smirks wickedly.

~

He teaches them self defence, wanting them to be able to look after themselves if it ever came down to it. Naturally, for their 16th birthday, they're gifted with a big ass knife.

-

Billy as a dad is so stupidly soft.

We all remember the scene from the show, right? Where he's in the hospital with his mom and he says;

"Maybe you did me a solid, you know? I mean, the way I see it, you want weak kids, give 'em everything. But if you... if you want 'em strong... treat 'em hard."

When he has a kid of his own he realises just what utter garbage this is. The idea of all the shit he's been through making him into the tough son of a bitch he is today is born from trauma that he still hasn't dealt with. The way his brain tries to rationalise what he went though. To make it make sense instead of it being so goddamn senseless.

But if he's honest, more than he'd like to admit, he finds himself wondering just what his life would have been like if he grew up in a loving home. What it would be like to feel wanted and cared for. To rise to the top being helped and cheered on by others instead of clawing his way there with bloodied and dirty fingers, the weight of the world bearing down on him as he's beat down at every turn.

He never wants his kids to feel that way. Not even a fraction of how unloved and unwanted he felt. He does everything in his power to make sure they know just how much he cares about them. There's literally nothing he wouldn't do for his kids. They could turn up at home one day and confess to a murder and Billy wouldn't hesitate to ask where the body is so he can handle it for them.

-

Billy is ridiculously sentimental when it comes to his kids. Drawings go up on the fridge and when a new one takes its place, the old one goes into a box of many others that he can't seem to ever throw away. He has multiple pictures of his kids at his office, even some framed cute drawings they did for him. He's kept all the mementos from the pregnancy, birth and onwards. They're his little treasures.

-

Billy is super supportive of everything his kids do. He makes sure they get a good education but he never pushes them to do something they don't want to do. Despite the large college fund he's got for them, if they choose not to go to college, he doesn't pressure them. Instead, whatever hopes and dreams they have, he does everything in his power to support and help them. Whether that's moral and emotional support, money or even breaking a few jaws of people standing in their way.

-

Let's look a little bit at how he is throughout some of the ages of his kid.

Billy with a baby is a sight to behold. No one has ever seen Lieutenant William Russo so goddamn soft. Once he's got hold of his baby, you've got no chance of getting them back off him. You'd have to fight him. He adores holding his little one close, soaking them in. He's constantly holding them no matter what he's doing and baby carriers and wraps are a godsend to him. You'd heard about them from a friend and told Billy and you better believe by the time the baby's born that he's an expert on all things baby wearing. He's a perfectionist and carrying a baby wrong can be dangerous. He makes sure he knows how to do it right.

Just as he has little affectionate touches for you, he has the same for his baby. His large hand stroking their tiny head and little hair. His finger stroking their chubby little cheek. He's a tactile person and touch is grounding for him. It soothes him to do so with his baby and reassures him they're really there and that they're okay.

He's super attentive. Of course he works a lot but as soon as he becomes a dad, he doesn't stay late anymore and makes sure to have days off. The second he comes home, he's making a beeline for his baby, scooping them up with a grin. He loves to read to them, something that continues as they grow up. His weekends used to be restful or if he was feeling like a masochist, he'd work from home. But now weekends are his time to shine. By the time you wake up on a Saturday morning, he's already up with the baby, making you breakfast as he's got the baby attached to him via baby carrier.

As his baby grows into a toddler, each milestone makes him tearful and full of pride. He kisses any booboos that happen and he's constantly playing with his child. He has a pretty silly side to him that most don't get to see. Making his kid laugh and smile brings him the greatest joy.

He loves taking his toddler to the office with him. Everyone dotes on his kid and treats them like royalty.

When they turn into a small child, he watches with a proud smile and amusement as his kid wants to fight with his men, watching them 'beat' the shit out of them. The guys at Anvil are more than happy to very dramatically go down, and the apple doesn't fall far from the tree when the tiny Russo grins smugly at their 'win'.

Their first day at school and Billy's a mess. It's such a turning point and he doesn't know how to deal with how fast their growing up. But every achievement at school, even minor ones, and he's showering them with praise.

He encourages them to work hard and as soft as he might be, he is still the boss. He makes sure they do their homework and don't fall behind on their studies.

One thing Billy loves is teaching his kids stuff. Whether that's mundane stuff to help with school or teaching them shit he knows like survivalist things, because you can never be too prepared, right? He loves helping them with school projects and answering any questions they might have about one of the many things he's knowledgeable about.

When his kids moves onto those hard teenage years, the ones where everything feels so dramatic and world ending, he's a little tougher when it calls for it. Billy is no novice to rebellion, he has a rebellious streak of his own and marches to the beat of his own drum half the time. He respects that. What he doesn't respect or tolerate is behaviour that's going to fuck his kid over in the long run or self sabotage. He will be firm and a hard ass if he needs to be to keep his kids on a path where they don't get hurt or ruin their life.

Billy has a zero tolerance policy on drugs. After the shit with his mother, he won't budge on this. If he finds out his kid is dabbling in drugs, they're grounded until they're old enough to move out.

-

No matter what age his kids are, Billy loves them immensely. He wants to be the father he wished he'd had growing up and he pours all of his anguish and pain from his upbringing into it. Channeling it into the purest form of love for his kids. To break the curse that had hold of him. He won't perpetuate the cycle.

Being a father brings him a sense of completeness and peace he didn't think was possible for him to achieve. It fills the void that's been eating away at his soul from his lack of love as a child and he loves every second of being a parent. Even the hard moments.

-

Bonus:

The Russo's and the Castle's go on monthly camping trips together. Billy loves the outdoors, the mild survivalist feelings he gets from it without the real danger. He loves taking his kids there, teaching them everything. In his role as dad and uncle, he sits around the camp fire at night, the light of the flames dancing along his face as he very theatrically tells the kids a spooky story.

You and his kids are his immediate family but the Castle's are his family too. So he really loves it when you all get to spend time together like that.

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 18

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 7.6k

Abu Dhabi holds a special place in Pierre's heart. The food is great, the views are spectacular, and there is always plenty to do to keep him busy. Night races are some of the more exciting races too and Pierre appreciated the variety.

Coming into the final race of the season, Pierre holds on to seventh in the championship by a few points. Perez sensed the usurper creeping up on his seat and had cranked it up to eleven. 

Exams had kept you in London for the race in Brazil, where Pierre had finished sixth and Checo DNF'd. You had managed to fly out for the weekend in Saudi Arabia, where Perez had finished fifth and closed the gap to Pierre to only four points behind. 

If Pierre didn't finish ahead of Perez this weekend, he was fucked. And he was at the distinct disadvantage of his good luck charm being absent, stuck in London finishing up your final few exams of the semester. Two weeks without seeing you coupled with barely hearing from you had worn on him. It wasn't purposeful on your part but Pierre's stress was already compressed like the suspension on his car. Stray an inch too far over the racing line, hit a curb too hard and it was liable to snap, sending bits and pieces flying.

Pierre checks his phone for the millionth time as he waits to check in to the hotel. Wednesday was late for this many crew members to be arriving. His main concern though was that you hadn't responded to the text he'd sent you upon landing.

"Look lively, will you?" Max claps Pierre on the shoulder and he slides his phone into his pocket. "It's the last race of the season. We get to go balls to the wall and leave it all out in the track. And here you are looking like a kicked puppy."

"Easy for you to say," Pierre starts, grinning at his friend. "You clinched the title weeks ago. You don't even have to race this weekend if you don't want to and you'd still win."

"Doesn't mean I won't be shooting for a podium."

Pierre rolls his eyes. "Yeah well we can't all be so lucky, can we?"

"Next year you'll be playing with the big dogs." Max hands the receptionist his ID, says a few words and turns back to Pierre. "Looking forward to having you as a teammate again. It was fun for those couple races and I'm sure you'll be a challenge now that you've found your groove."

"You're gonna jinx it if you keep talking." Pierre laughs, praying that it covers up the old wound Max's statement picked open. Pierre hated the idea of moving back to Red Bull but he didn't have much choice. He was still contracted to one of four Red Bull branded seats for next season. A promotion, at the very least, would help him showcase his talent and further cement his value. If he had to spend any longer than that with the team, ripping out his hair was a real possibility.

"Wasn't someone supposed to be with you this weekend?" Max quirks a brow. "Where is she?"

"In London." Max bringing you up doesn't help the pit forming in Pierre's stomach. Win or lose, seventh or eighth, Red Bull or Alpha Tauri, come Sunday Pierre wanted you at his side. Interview requests were bound to roll in either way and Pierre would need someone to ground him, a task much easier to accomplish if you were physically at his side.

"Too bad." Max clicks his tongue and takes his room keys from the receptionist. "It's gonna be a fun weekend."

"I don't think-"

Pierre's vision goes dark at the same time someone whispers, "Guess who?"

Pierre sucks in a breath, spins on his heel and wraps you in a hug in one smooth motion. You laugh as he lifts you off your feet and presses kisses to your cheeks. 

"What are you doing here?" He grabs both suitcases and tugs you aside. His room can wait.

"Tost asked me to come." Your grin is contagious, its twin appearing on Pierre's own cheeks. "He said that since you were flying out from Milan on your own there was an extra seat on the jet, so if I got myself to Nice I could fly out with the Red Bull boys."

"Seven hours trapped in a tin can with Max, Yuki and Checo?" Pierre rubs his chest. "I've got heartburn just thinking about that."

"It wasn't so bad," you say, finally giving him a proper kiss. "Yuki and I just played games on our phones the whole time. And I beat Max at Scrabble."

"How many Dutch words did he try to use?"

"Mmm, about half the words he tried were definitely not English."

"Yep, sounds about right." Pierre throws an arm around your shoulders and leads you back to the reception desk. He pays for an upgraded room when you aren't looking- though when you're assigned a suite there's not much higher you can go- and slips the woman behind the counter an extra bill for good measure.

"I could use a nap," you note, leaning against Pierre like you'd otherwise fall over. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Pierre checks his watch. "We've got time for a nap."

"We?" Your raised eyebrow is question enough. Pierre smiles and swipes his key card once you're in the elevator with him. He hadn't looked at the price of the room but he was positive it was more than he'd spent on a single night in his entire career, considering it occupies an entire floor of the swanky hotel.

"It's date night," Pierre says simply. Initially his plan had been to invite Charles over for a game of Fifa but the Monegasque wouldn’t fault him for cancelling at the last minute. "We're in one of the most luxurious cities in the world and I'm going to show you off every chance I get. The restaurant down stairs is to die for."

Your attempt at nodding along with what he says is thwarted by a yawn. "Sleep first, eat later." Seeing as it was impossible to deny you, Pierre simply drops a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Wait until you see our room." The way your eyes light up when he says our room makes him want to say it again and again just to see you sparkle.

"I know you upgraded it, Mr. I-think-I'm-sneaky." You uncurl yourself from against his arm when the elevator chimes. "How much did it cost?"

"A few extra pennies."

The stainless steel doors open directly into the suite. The living space is dominated by a curving crescent of full length windows overlooking the cerulean harbor and the jagged steel of the city skyline beyond. Suitcase forgotten, your jaw drags along the floor as you toe off your shoes in favor of sinking onto one of the half moon couches situated around a low coffee table.

"Did you get some sort of bonus you didn't tell me about?" Pierre sees your inner engineer cataloging the chandelier dripping crystals over the carved dining table and the pattern of the black veined marble flooring. "This cost more than a few pennies."

"I didn't really look at the price so it's possible," he admits. In the end it was worth it to see you like this, happy as a pig in mud. Pierre was in his element at the track you were in yours in beautiful buildings. For all Pierre cared you could be sharing a dingy room at a motel; it would still be five star worthy with you there. 

Every once in a while though, you deserve a bit of pampering for all you put up with. Late nights and months apart wasn’t easy on either of you, but you stuck by him. And when the day comes that Pierre retires or loses his seat, you would be the one there to comfort him. Spending frivolous amounts of money to see you smile was nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

In Pierre’s world, money is temporary, you are forever.

"Well I have half a mind to tear into you for spending so much on a room we won't spend all that much time in," you start, your star-speckled gaze landing on Pierre, "the view is too pretty to be upset about."

"Mine isn't half bad either." You laugh, tucking an errant hair behind your ear. You both know he isn’t referring to the glittering bay or the expensive furnishings.

"Up," Pierre demands softly, holding out his hand. Your hand is warm and dwarfed by his long fingers but you barely seem to notice. The heart in his chest pounds for no discernable reason as he leads you down the narrow hall past doors leading to what he can only assume are bedrooms and bathrooms, to the one at the end of the hall. Based on his mental floor plan this one has the best view, if he's guessed correctly.

Your breezy oh confirms his hunch. You stutter at the threshold, coming up short behind him to bathe in the beauty of the sea, dotted through with white sails. Sunlight twinkles off the waves and if he breathes deep enough, he can almost smell the salt.

"Come on," Pierre says with a chuckle, urging you to fall into the fluffy down of the bed with him. You follow reluctantly, too enamored by the sights to pay any real attention to how Pierre arranges your limbs to his liking, your head resting on his chest and your joined hands laying atop his stomach.

"How about that nap?" He murmurs, running the fingers of his free hand through your unbound hair. 

You sigh and snuggle in closer. It was rare that Pierre had the opportunity to steal moments like this during a race week, when he had nothing better to do than tangle himself in you.

"I'll tell you a story." 

Just as he expected, you leap at the offer. "Can you tell me the one about the time you and Charles got in trouble when you were karting?"

Normally he opts for something fictional that allows him to embellish the details to fit his narrative. Pierre loved spinning tales rife with laughter and intrigue but he also didn't mind indulging your curiosity.

"Yeah, I can tell that one. Let me set the scene. It's midnight on a Friday at a little track outside Rouen. Two gangly teenage boys, one French and one definitely, positively not French, have nothing better to do than get themselves in trouble…"

**********

Fans began whispering when Pierre set foot in the lobby. The price of stardom was high and had taken years to get used to. Some days the bombardment of people asking for photos and autographs overwhelmed him to the point he was desperate for an out. Most people respected his boundaries and when they sensed it was too much, they backed off. Other days it was simply too much and he would mumble excuses and book it out the door.

The pressure increases tenfold when he steps into the lobby with you on his arm, the pair of you dressed to the nines. He clocks a group of women- clearly tourists based on their body language- perched on a sofa the minute their low murmurs turn into excited squeals.

Pierre mentally braces for you to stiffen or stop altogether but you do neither. You carry on unaffected, either ignoring them or completely oblivious to the women who do nothing to hide their pointed stares.

"Table for two please." You smile at the restaurant host and then at Pierre. You must not have noticed the fans then. You were getting better at coping with the photos and whispers, although your smile usually became forced the longer it dragged on, the polar opposite of you currently beaming at him.

Pierre's shoulders sag a bit when you're led to a secluded table towards the rear of the dining space. Privacy wasn't a luxury he was often afforded. With his back to a wall of windows, there were fewer angles for people to approach from which was a small comfort.

Apparently you find sitting across from Pierre unacceptable because you shuffle your chair to his side of the table before plopping down in it. Pierre shoots you a questioning look but keeps his mouth shut. Inquiring after your motives didn't tend to end well for him.

Instead he leans over to kiss your cheek, relishing the blush his lips coax to the surface.

“It all sounds good,” you say, scanning the menu. “You’ve been here before, I take it?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I have. It’s all wonderful.” 

The fans from the lobby remain in the blurred fringes of his vision. Pierre does his best to focus on the waitress explaining the specials. He tunes in automatically to the fan’s heavily accented English as they argue with the host, vying for a table as close to Pierre as possible.

Their phones remain out as an annoyed waiter tries and fails to coax the gaggle of girls into ordering something. Pierre drags a hand through his hair.

Being the center of attention usually doesn't bother him. Coping with the spotlight and the scrutiny that accompanies it is second nature; if the press conferences at Spa in 2019 had taught him anything, it was the importance of a solid poker face. Fame is new to you though and interactions with polite fans make you nervous. Having your picture taken without permission and splashed on social media? Forget about it. Pierre didn't care to find out how you'd react.

"Don't be nervous." You lay a hand on Pierre's thigh. The touch is enough to temporarily pause his bouncing leg. "You're going to do amazing this weekend. All you have to do is finish in front of Checo and you're golden."

How you haven't noticed the girls giggling mere yards away is beyond him. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this perfect, beautiful moment of bliss. You look gorgeous with your painted lips and that sinful black dress that he doubts can be comfortable based on how it hugs your curves like water. To top it off, the pride in your gaze is something to behold, making it impossible to doubt himself when you so clearly and openly believe he can conquer the world.

But it's better to tell you now versus you finding out on social media later. "That's not what's bothering me."

"Oh?" You sit straighter and set the menu down. "What is it then? Because if it's Horner, I have no problem marching in there and chewing him out. Birdy will back me up."

Despite himself, Pierre can't hold back his smile. "Where did all this confidence come from, hmm?"

"I'm learning," you insist, nodding your head firmly. "I'm growing as a person and you should be proud."

"I never said I wasn't." Maybe you'd spent the last month at university interacting with racing fans on campus. Perhaps being exposed to endless questions in a setting you controlled was the key. "Did you take a course in confidence at university?"

You scrunch up your nose and laugh in the most adorable way. Pierre's heart lurches at the sight, regardless if it was him you were laughing at.

"No, but I did make a few new friends that have a habit of pestering me about you." You jab a finger in his side for good measure. "It helped, I think. I don't look for cameras as much anymore. You're my focus now, not paps that may or may not be lurking in bushes."

"I knew it." Pierre is slightly impressed that he'd hit the nail squarely on the head. "I figured there had to be someone at uni responsible for helping you out."

You shrug and purse your lips. "I guess we'll have to see how I handle this weekend. I mean, there's bound to be press trying to corner me, what with the stakes and all. But I think I can take them." You raise your fists in front of your face and Pierre has to laugh. 

“Throw a punch like that and you’ll break a finger.” He takes one of your clenched fists in his and untucks your thumb from under your fingers. “That’s how you make a proper fist. And you hit with these knuckles here- make sure you distribute the blow across all four, or you’ll be hurting.”

“Regardless,” you say, jabbing the air a few times, “The shock factor of having little old me in their face ought to be enough to earn me an advantage.”

Pierre finishes the lap to circle back to the topic at hand. "How about we test your confidence?” 

"Okay," you say, dragging out the 'a' until it hangs in the air between you like a spider's web. 

Pierre rakes a hand through his hair and nods to the girls a few tables away. "They've been taking pictures since we sat down. I'm sure they'll be all over Instagram in an hour, if they aren't already."

You steal a glance at the table in question under the guise of grabbing something from your purse. You hum, contemplating how to go about responding. Pierre is almost certain you'll ask to head back upstairs where it's just the two of you, no cameras or outside influence to ruin your night. His wallet is already out under the table, ready to leave a hefty tip for putting up with your drink-and-dash.

“We aren’t doing anything interesting,” you point out, swirling the knuckle’s worth of whiskey in your glass. “Why do they feel the need to document every passing second?”

Pierre lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just what some people do. If you’re uncomfortable we can go.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” You scoff, the corners of your lips turned up in a teasing smile. “I figure the best course of action is to give them something worth photographing.”

“What do you-”

Pierre’s yelp is decidedly unsexy when you yank him forward by his tie and attach your lips to his. Caught entirely off guard, he flounders for a moment before he catches himself and sinks into you. One hand on your cheek and the other creeping up your thigh, Pierre slides his tongue over the seam of your lips. You don't hesitate to obey the silent command.

He should be embarrassed. He should be contemplating the consequences of this kiss being splashed across tabloids the world over. He can’t bring himself to care, not when you’re the only release he needs and something as simple as a kiss sets his skin alight and causes any sane thoughts to trickle from his head.

Nothing matters. You're kissing him and your hand is a few inches below his hip on his right thigh, burning a brand that he prays leaves a puckered pink scar. Your scent and your mouth and your unmistakable hiss of pleasure saps the worry from his limbs. He's floating up off his chair, lungs filling with helium as you steal every last molecule of oxygen from the room.

Just like that, Pierre is the one that's roaring to leave for an entirely different reason.

Your hand on his jaw keeps your lips a hair's breadth apart as you whisper, "Are they staring?"

A blissed out nod is all he manages. Thoughts evade him and speaking is utterly out of the question when your lips are within striking distance. He surges forward for another kiss, heavier on teeth than on tongue. He makes sure to hold your lower lip between his teeth longer than necessary, putting on a show now that you've given him permission.

"Pierre," you murmur, using the hand splayed on his chest to push him away. The whine that escapes him is wholly unintentional. Thankfully it's low enough that only you hear, pressing a finger to your sinful lips.

"Down, boy." You extricate his hand from the dimpled flesh of your hip and place it chastely in his own lap. "We've accomplished what I wanted to."

Saying you tossing a wink over your shoulder at the intrusive fans isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen would be a lie. Pierre needed to be sure to thank Daniel's girlfriend the next time he saw her for whatever the hell she said to finally bestow you with a healthy serving of self-assurance because this new you is an entirely different entity, one Pierre intends to explore at the next opportunity.

"Problem solved." You brush your hands together and Pierre half expects to see dust clouds in the air like you'd just finished a woodshop project. 

Pierre's brain is operating on a ten second delay. So really, normal operating procedure when he was in your vicinity. "I don't think we've accomplished everything I'd like to get done."

"We have a dinner to finish first." You pick up your menu and resume browsing like you hadn't just forcibly ripped his appetite for anything other than you right out of him. "The salmon sounds good, don't you think?"

"You sound good," Pierre mumbles under his breath and picks up his own menu. God, he'd love to let his fingers drift to the apex of your thighs. You’re always cute when you squirm. It was so simple to do too, all you needed was a brush of his knuckle to your center and you'd be gasping.

"Are you ready to order?"

The soft-spoken waitress bursts Pierre's bubble. She brings fresh drinks and jots down an order of two salmon fillets and leaves with a smile. 

How Pierre has managed to make it this long without fucking you is beyond him. From the moment you surprised him in the lobby, his limbs have been thrumming with energy. And now your surprise kiss had been the pebble that preceded an avalanche of feverish longing. Those red painted lips would look better wrapped around his-

The pointed toe of your shoe digs into his calf. "Quit staring."

"Either you let me daydream or you let me take you upstairs,” Pierre quips back, licking his lips before he can catch himself.

"Can we get through one date without you mentally undressing me?"

Pierre dips his grin in a vat of lust, his words dripping with waxy promise. "No. Not when I know that as soon as we're alone, you'll let me do what I want."

"And what about what I want?" Your pouted lip does absolutely nothing but push his mind further in the gutter. 

"Your wish is my command." His hand floats under the hem of your dress to graze along your core. And there it is, that sound he would swim across oceans to hear, your chastizing gasp of surprise. 

The cross way you whisper his name is a thing of dreams. No one else's name sounded like that on your tongue, that honor is reserved solely for Pierre. The two breathless syllables are more exhilarating than standing on the top step. The rush of adrenaline that accompanies them is ten times what he is rewarded with when passing a world champion on track. He'll give it all up to hear you repeat it when you're pissed or lonely or tired- he just wants your voice echoing in his ears like a broken record.

You move his hand a safe distance down your thigh, nearly at your knee. Pierre gives your leg a sharp squeeze. "Can we please get our dinner to go?"

"Not tonight. You can wait, mon amour."

The French rolls off your tongue awkwardly but Pierre will be the last to complain. Your encyclopedic knowledge of which buttons to press when had come back to bite him in the ass.

"That's not fair." His pout is a mirror image of the one you turned on him earlier. "You can't use my own language against me."

You pat your pockets as if searching for something and shrug when you come up empty. "I don't see a rulebook anywhere."

Reminding you what happens when you tease him shoots to the top of his to do list. "I'll play if you wanna play, ma chérie. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"I think you're forgetting who usually wins off track."

Pierre can't help it. He takes advantage of his superior reflexes and surges forward to claim another searing kiss. You did normally win and it wasn't for lack of trying on his end. No matter the tactic he employed, you generally got the better of him. Not that he minded.

"Why don't you come here?" He purposely grazes his lips to your ear as he speaks and grins when a shiver runs down your spine. 

"Because we are in public," you hiss back, though the way your head tips to the side betrays you. Pierre's nose touches the underside of your jaw and you struggle to find your breath.

"We should eat." A self satisfied smile splits his face when he notices your heaving chest and wild eyes. 

"When did our food get here?" Pierre did that. He got you so worked up that you blocked out your surroundings so thoroughly that you hadn't heard the clink of plates. Pierre wears that fact like a badge of honor.

"A minute or so ago. Remind me again who's winning?"

"We may be even," you relent, adjusting the skirt of your dress. Yeah, even isn't the word he would pick, considering how flustered you are. It's a good thing Pierre has learned to eat with one hand because he doesn't plan on moving the arm currently slung over the back of your chair anytime soon. His finger traces the letters of his name on the bare skin of your shoulder. Whether you realize what he's writing or not you lean into him as you eat, falling in closer with each lemon-scented bite.

"Excuse me?"

You don't bother to look up but Pierre does. Disappointment washes over him when he is met by one of the fans, apparently deeming now to be the appropriate time to approach him, while clearly on a date, in the middle of a meal.

"I'll be happy to take a photo once I'm done." Sometimes passive aggressiveness works best with people like this, who have no regard for personal space. "Right now I would prefer to be alone, thanks."

"Oh, right." The blonde giggles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You two make a… cute couple?" The end of her sentence turns up and your fork falls to your plate.

Pierre tucks you a little closer to his side, both possessive and reassuring. "We know."

Your discomfort is plain, the way you curl in on yourself making his heart hurt. But you surprise him by taking a deep breath and turning to the woman with a smile. 

"If you'd let us finish our meal, I would appreciate it. We can stop by on our way out and chat with you." Sylvie would be proud of that answer. Diplomatically phrased and said with a smile that negates any negative connotations.

"Of course." The blonde's smile is sickly sweet. To Pierre she adds, "Good luck on Sunday."

Pierre nods. The woman's rude behavior didn't warrant a verbal response. She mumbles a feeble goodbye before slinking back to her friends. If nothing else at least their whispers died down, put out by his behavior. 

Pierre loves his fans. Without them he wouldn't have a sport to compete in, and of course he appreciated their endless support. Stopping for photos or autographs had gotten him in trouble with Marko multiple times for being late to meetings that usually turned out to be pointless anyway. As a whole, their enthusiasm gives him an extra boost on Sundays and lifts his spirits after a bad weekend.

And then sometimes there were people like the blonde woman that had interrupted his dinner. Those people he has far less tolerance for. Basic manners were imperative to Pierre giving someone the light of day, otherwise he saw no need to waste time and energy on them.

"All good, ma chérie?" Pierre rubs your shoulder, hoping it'll stave off any anxiety.

"I'm good," you confirm with a nod of your head. "Let's finish up and go to our room."

Pierre presses a kiss to your temple and scarfs down the remainder of his meal in record time. He flags down the waitress and hands her his card, leaving a substantial tip when she returns with the check.

“Can you distract that table?” Pierre asks, aware of how unusual the request likely is. “I’d like to get out of here without making a scene.”

“Of course,” the waitress says with a warm, sincere smile. Pierre waits until she loudly announces, “Excuse me? Your card has been declined, do you have another method of payment?”

Neither of you can contain your laughter as you stumble through the lobby. In the sanctity of the elevator, Pierre wraps his arms around your middle and molds himself against you. "You look especially gorgeous tonight."

"You're not too bad yourself." One of your hands finds the nape of his neck, guiding his face to the crook of your shoulder. Pierre takes the invitation at face value and nips at the sensitive skin. Your hum goes straight to his cock, twitching against the swell of your ass.

"I win," you purr, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging. 

For once Pierre is glad to be in the world's slowest elevator. Since he's already lost, he might as well lose in style. He spins you to face the mirrored wall. And because he knows it'll make you tremble, he trails his hand lazily over your throat to grip your jaw.

A low moan leaves your parted lips. Pierre studies your reflection, from your hands gripping the railing to the skin dimpling beneath his fingers. 

"Fine, you win this time. But I think you and I both know, I'll come out ahead in the end."

**********

Waking up to soft kisses will never get old. Thirty years from now when Pierre was retired and you fell asleep each night with his arms around you, you'd still yearn for the brush of his lips to your cheeks, neck, and shoulders to rouse you from the violet shores of sleep.

"Good morning," you mumble, a sentiment which Pierre echoes with his gruff, sleep tinged voice. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've ever gotten. You tired me out last night." You both grin at the reminder. Fueled by a slight tinge of jealousy after the women at the restaurant made eyes at him, you had refused to let him tumble into bed until well past midnight, when you both were well and truly exhausted. Thursday is press day, nothing strenuous that he couldn't afford to be a little sore for.

Pierre rolls to straddle your hips, lips capturing yours for a proper kiss. The taste of freshly brushed mint makes your skin tingle when he tugs your lip between his teeth.

"It's too early for that." You throw your arms around his neck and urge him to bend his elbows until he falls atop you. It takes him a moment to snuggle in, his head on your chest and his arms sliding under your middle. 

You're convinced that ten minutes in this position can cure any ailments, physical or mental. The weight of your soulmate pressing into you, forcing you to focus on breathing instead of whatever might be bothering you. It's easy to forget about the outside world when everything you require to be happy is wrapped around you like a blanket.

You stroke a hand over Pierre's hair until his breathing evens out, only rousing him when the sun peeks over the harbor. Amiable silence fills the space as hues of orange and pink paint Pierre in swaths of color. Suddenly you're seeing him for the first time, completely enamored by the angles of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw. The golden hour of dawn shines on it's golden boy, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he turns towards the warmth calling him home.

"Pyry and I are going for a run soon if you'd like to come with us."

You cringe. Running used to be fun when you were in school, but seeing as you hadn't properly trained in years you doubted you could keep up with a pair of professionals. "How about you text me when you're back and I'll come to the gym with you? It looks fancy, if George's snaps are anything to go by."

Pierre trails kisses up your sternum, over your neck and only speaks once he's reached your lips. "Looking at other men, are you?"

"Shut up," you laugh, shoving him off you. "I'll have you know it was a rare shirt on picture, thank you very much. I don't need to see George shirtless ever again."

A satisfied, "Good," rumbles from Pierre's chest and he stands to stretch the lingering sleep from his limbs. Clad in nothing but a pair of white four inch inseam shorts and with his back to you, you grin as an idea forms. You scramble forward before he can process you moving and smack his ass so hard he yelps.

"Gotcha!" You devolve into a fit of giggles as he rubs the spot you hit, whining about you taking advantage of his distraction.

"You like it," you tease, and Pierre remains strictly pouty for two whole seconds before he breaks into a grin and nods. "Now put on a shirt and get downstairs before Pyry calls you and you get reamed for being late again."

Pierre leans down for one last kiss before rushing off to the lobby. Waking up before the sun leaves you plenty of time to laze about if you choose to. Kicking your butt into gear seems like the better option so you drag yourself out of the relative warmth of the sheets and shuffle to the kitchen in search of coffee. 

Apparently the suite came fully stocked with a handful of different freshly ground blends, and much to your delight you recognize one of your favorites. You scroll through the room service menu on your phone while it brews. Without a doubt Pyry would rope you in to whatever workout he had planned for Pierre, albeit giving you a watered down version of what he gave the driver. Regardless, it would still be grueling and you needed to fuel up.

A hearty breakfast of fresh fruit and cinnamon sugar oatmeal shows up at your door ten minutes later. You're just finishing up when Pierre's snapchat comes through and you nearly choke.

Come on down baby

The sweaty, shirtless selfie that accompanies the caption is wholly unnecessary. Pierre's stupid tongue sticks out and the fingers of one hand are tangled in his hair. The muscle of his bicep is perfectly flexed, an obvious but appreciated attempt to rile you up. You shamelessly screenshot the photo before it disappears to save it for later.

You change into a simple set of leggings and a loose t-shirt and head to the elevator, curating your music queue on the way down.

The outdoor gym overlooks a pool of the same crystalline blue as the sea not far beyond. A few Alpha Tauri and Red Bull team members you recognize occupy a handful of machines. You wave at the ones you recognize, including Alana- she was a sight for sore eyes. You make a mental note to catch up with her at some point today, as you're sure to cross paths again.

Pyry spots you before Pierre does and waves you over. "Start stretching," the fin orders, "I'm glad you dressed for the occasion this time."

"I've learned my lesson." You plop down next to Pierre and lean into a stretch to stage whisper, "He drives you this hard?"

"Get used to it." Pierre shoots you a grin that sets you on fire. He's got a shirt on now, which means he only took it off earlier to send you that snap. Tease.

Any other time you'd chide him for his behavior but this weekend you let it slide. Tension has been brewing since the moment you spotted him across the lobby; simple things tip you off to the stress winding up in him. If flirting could offer him a small amount of release, then so be it, even if it was torturous for you to see him like this and be unable to do anything about it.

"If you two can't get through this without making heart eyes at each other I'll separate you," Pyry warns, pushing at your shoulders and helping you stretch a few more inches. You hide your wince and laugh, leaning into the slight burn.

"Sorry coach," Pierre chimes in, "I'll keep my hands to myself, don't worry." He accepts Pyry's hand to be pulled to his feet. Bouncing on his toes he throws a few punches at the air and catches your gaze over his trainer's shoulder.

"Definitely not you I'm worried about."

As Pyry says it, you blow Pierre a kiss. You quickly tuck your hands behind your back when Pyry's head whips around. Your cheshire grin gets you off the hook and Pyry just points to the stationary bike in silent command. At least he was going easy on you.

Headphones pumping a Pierre curated playlist, you lose track of time as you cycle mile after mile. Pierre sparring on the fringes of your vision helps distract you from burning muscles. Sweat soaks his black tee and is absorbed by the waistband of his oddly patterned orange and white shorts. No matter how incessantly you tease him for his fashion choices, he never fails to amaze you for how well he pulls it all off.

Lost in the music and the incredible view, it takes you a moment to realize Pierre's lips aren't just moving silently. You yank out an ear bud and blubber, "What did you say?"

Pierre's breathless laugh is accompanied by a shake of his head. He half curls in on himself, hands on his hips and mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath. The image stirs memories of the last night, when he was panting just like that but with nothing obscuring you from drinking in his godlike muscled body.

"I said," Pierre starts, walking over to kiss your cheek, "I need a shower before press. I'm going upstairs. You can stay here and Pyry can take you through some more-"

"No thanks!" Pyry shrugs off your immediate refusal. Training top tier athletes and training you sat at polar opposite ends of the spectrum and often times the Fin pushed you farther than you thought capable. You'd like to be able to function tomorrow, thank you very much.

The elevator ride to the suite is filled with salted kisses and wet touches. A breadcrumb trail of clothing leads from the stainless steel doors to the glass encased shower. There's not enough time to worship Pierre like you'd wanted to but he sighs when you run a soapy cloth over his body. Your lips follow the suds, leaving light kisses to the tender muscles. By the time you pour shampoo in your palm and lightly scratch at his scalp to work it into a lather, he's practically purring.

Media appearances are a necessary part of being a driver. Pierre usually handled them well enough on his own and occasionally with Sylvie's help when she could be bothered to get off her phone for a few minutes, but having you with him is different. You pride yourself on reading him well enough to know exactly what he needs. Some days, when the press isn't a pack of rabid animals, he returns to his driver's room and needs nothing more than a quick kiss to have him righted. On days when the pack of piranhas descend to feast on the bones of a bad session or the whispering of drama, a delicate touch is required.

If your suspicion proves right, today would be the latter. Being ahead of the frenzy might take the edge off when Pierre got in the thick of it.

When the tap cuts off, you step out and wrap Pierre in a fluffy towel. His smile communicates how grateful he is- and that he knows what you're doing.

You hand him a stack of Alpha Tauri branded clothes and sit on the foot of the bed. "Do you want me to come to the paddock with you?"

Pierre pauses with his shirt half on. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind." You pluck a few of his rings from the nightstand and hold out your hand. "You have to complete the look."

"What would I do without you," he murmurs, slipping one on his pinky and one on the thumb of his opposite hand.

"Probably be ridiculed for your lack of fashion sense."

**********

As a driver's girlfriend, you had come to grips with being relegated to a background role when it came to team events. You have to ask Sylvie to repeat herself twice before her words sink in.

"Come with me to the media pen," the woman grits out. Apparently Tost intended to have some fun torturing the woman before he fired her at the end of the season. Hopefully whoever Pierre got stuck with next was a bit more personable than Sylvie.

"Pierre told me to wait here," you say, gesturing to the garage buzzing around you. You were a rock and the mechanics were the stream, parting around you without a care in the world. You were barely a blip on their radar, everyone too honed in on their tasks to pay you any mind.

"And now I'm telling you to come with me. The other wives and girlfriends are in attendance and it'll look odd if you're not there too." Clearly, Sylvie didn't like the idea. And any idea that pissed Sylvie off sounded like a good one.

"I know the way," you say and breeze past her. Your feet follow the familiar path to the cluster of reporters crowded around metal gates, keeping the drivers in like caged animals. It was fitting, considering how often people referred to the sport as a traveling circus.

Pierre is already knee deep in an interview with one of the more popular journalists in the bunch, Will Buxton. Careful to stay out of the lens, you lean against the guardrail to listen in. So far it seems to be going well, Pierre's laugh brings a smile to your face.

"So, Pierre." Will shifts on his feet, pausing to create a sense of drama. "Your seat for next year. We know you'll be in Alpha Tauri or at Red Bull. Only a few points separate you from being demoted right back to eighth in the championship, which would officially relegate you to keep your seat at Alpha for the upcoming season. Are you worried about a mechanical problem or an accident stripping you of your chance to prove yourself and leaving you stuck where you are?"

Your stomach sinks. Buxton knew how to phrase a question, you had to give him that. Each word had been carefully chosen to elicit an emotional response from Pierre. You hate seeing him backed into a corner, forced to answer the same questions again and again, helpless to prevent it.

"Well first of all I'd like to stay that I'm not stuck at Alpha." Pierre shifts his weight and you exhale. Buxton's poisoned dart had missed its mark.

"Given a few years of development I know we could have a really competitive car. But it's more so that I'm ready to move up, fight with the leaders now instead of waiting. I'm in my prime and I don't want to let that pass me by.

"So no, I'm not worried about things that are out of my control. My team has given me an amazing car this year and I'm not concerned about mechanical problems. Things out of my control aren't worth my energy. There's nothing I can do about it so I don't even give it thought. I'll focus on my driving and pushing my limit- if an accident happens, I'm just a passenger."

"Well said." Buxton nods and turns away, effectively dismissing Pierre. As soon as he's out of the camera's view he's reaching for you and you meet him halfway. Sylvie trails after you as Pierre leads you through to the Alpha garage.

"Five minutes until your briefing," Alana says the second you enter. "And hey girl. Don't think I've forgotten about that sweater I loaned you. I still want it back!"

Your friend doesn't leave any room for rebuttal before heading for the conference room, presumably to set up whatever presentation she had created. Sylvie had disappeared too, leaving you as the only one for Pierre to focus on.

"You think I can do it?" He asks quietly, playing with your interlaced fingers.

"I don't think." You tilt his chin up so he's looking at you. "I know. And I'll be right here when you cross that line on Sunday and bring home points. You've got this, baby. Don't doubt yourself now."

"Pierre!"

Your grip on his chin prevents him from following the voice, not that he would if he could. You shoot him a raucous grin, "Red Bull colors would look pretty good on me, huh?"

Pierre's smile is brighter than all the stars in the sky. "Anything with my name on it will do.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler​

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates!

[husbandohunter]

I AM ADDICTED TO STARDEW IMPACT!!! Ngl tho I could use Xiao’s stamina in the mines. Especially in the Wilderness farm.

What kind of farms did the boys and their s/o landed on tho??

Stardew Valley [Genshin Impact AU]

Synopsis: Which farm suits their personality (Continuation of Stardew Impact <.<)

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Zhongli, Childe, Albedo

Thank you! I’m happy that you like it hehe. Honestly both Xiao and Zhongli. I still can’t get through Skull Cavern floor 100, Xiao would be super good at handling monsters while Zhongli can do some fast mining cuz I’m out of bombs lol.

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

Diluc: Forest farm

Trees and secluded areas? Perfectly goes with that lone sojourner persona of his (you can’t convince me otherwise after this vid)

But consider his status as a wine owner, the forest farm is very appealing to him (most likely why the Dawn Winery was located near Wolvendom anyways), quality wood is extremely crucial for making kegs and barrels to store ingredients so they won’t go bad. Diluc finds this map very profitable for his business.

This is why most of the buildings on your land is made of wood. Thank god he doesn’t have his pyro vision.

But Diluc genuinely likes the fragrance of trees. After a long day of work, he likes to go out and just inhale the scent of damp moss combined with the woody smell attached to it, his mind feels alleviated from all the stress that was piling up

Bonus: Fruit bats. Foraging is a must to make good wine and mushrooms are out of the question (for now)

Kaeya: Beach farm

It’s the best place to get your suntans amirite? Honestly if this was a modern AU (which technically is), he’s totally the type of uni student to spend most of his weekends outside near the beach like the typical chad he is.

Plus he likes the variety, not just trees all the time because they’re boring. He enjoys the vast space and the ability to just look at the horizon whenever he needs to. It’s a habit of his. The sky holds many signs, it tells you the weather, shows you the time of day, it holds the stars in which determines the fate of humanity. Though...he doesn’t need to worry about those things anymore hmm?

Looks forwards to crates washing up onshore. Kaeya is very lucky actually (pirate’s luck?) Rather than mixed seeds (cuz fuck those), expect him to bring back some triple shot expressos, omnigeodes, artifact troves etc...

He was so lucky he once tried his luck at the casino. But stopped shortly after you found out and got mad at him.

Bonus: Mushroom cave. He heard you can make some very useful potions with them, or he can try mixing it with his wine.

Xiao: Riverland farm (what I chose uwu)

There’s something so serene about this environment. The type of guy just likes to chill by a river stream while sitting on top of a tree branch. Xiao uses the noise almost like a meditative practice, something he most likely did back in Liyue too. He can close his eyes and listen to it for hours.

Since this map is mainly good for fishing, it works generously in his favour. He can refill the water can whenever he needs to since watering crops is the only farm-related activity he can actually handle. He’s rather quite good at catching fish (although in a peculiar way) plus feeding them to your pet cat.

But Xiao dislikes how easily materials fall into the water. While he was chopping the trees down to clear out some space, it toppled down the wrong side and he lost most of the materials. Forever. Ugh, what a pain.

At least it’s less likely to be a mess. Through seasons, rocks and fallen trees tend to pile up. Thanks to the river taking up most of the space, he wouldn’t have to worry about clearing up land so much.

Bonus: Mushroom cave. Not because he likes mushrooms but he dislikes bats. Their constant squeaking is annoying.

Zhongli: Standard farm

Vanilla guy through and through. His taste in things tend to be very plain in general but as long as they meet the necessary requirements of what makes a perfect farm then there’s no need to complain. He takes farm work very seriously so it makes sense that he gets picky of what there is to offer.

The amount of land gets him very enthusiastic about how he wants to decorate it (he literally formed the land of Liyue so surely he must have some architect related knowledge). Has barns, coops, vineyards, seasonal crops grouped in an organized fashion.

Though that also means a lot of maintenance is required. Clean up, clearing the fern, fixing up broken fences. Many broken fences because he puts fences all over the place.

But because he’s so good at what he does, you guys make so much money. Perfectly balances his super-spending habit of his.

Bonus: Fruit bats. Mushrooms don’t have a very pleasant smell.

Childe: Wilderness farm

Are you surprised? Because I’m not. He can have combating activities for days. Childe is very adventurous at heart (hence why he joined the adventures guild) with bloodthirst that needs to be quenched.

This is why his combat level high (though it’s already high). He normally takes on treasure hoarders or mitachurls to test his abilities, the variety of monsters proved to be very entertaining to him. Vincent became his number 1 fan after listening to all the cool tales about him.

It’s very inconvenient for farm work though, you can never be too sure when a slime is about to jump on your back as you’re planting your seeds. The only plus side is that Childe helps you get some cool drops (including prismatic shards!) which can save you time with the community center.

Not ideal for fishing. Often you guys end up catching trash. You complain a lot and he begins to get annoyed with how many interruptions they bring. Well, it was fun while it lasted at least.

Bonus: Mushroom cave. He’ll need healing potions, lots of them.

Albedo: Hill-top farm

Not too much land, rivers aren’t too much either, everything was just right. The right amount of environment for cultivating his materials for his research. Albedo thinks the elevating platforms are pretty neat, very easy to locate the different areas when you can spot them easily.

A fan of studying the rocks of this world hence why this farmland is good for mining. Though the downfall was that not much farm work could be done, Albedo could care less unless crops were raised for formulas.

You will always find him outside, most likely by the southwest hilltop trying to gather precious ores and any signs of omnigeodes. After that, he goes to Rasmodius’ tower and conducts his experiments there. Albedo is restless ever since.

But the gifts you receive will always be interesting. You also like go mining in the caves, Albedo always crafts the necessary tools for you beforehand. You will never have to worry about missing anything.

Bonus: both. Mushroom and bats. Demetrius told him it was impossible, not like it was an issue anymore.

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Eternals

It feels like it’s been an eternity (lol) since the first announcement of Eternals over 2 years ago. My main source of excitement was always going to be Kumail Nanjiani as a superhero, followed closely by Brian Tyree Henry (is he my favorite working actor right now? I think he might be). Other than a stacked cast, I had no idea what Eternals was, and I kind of still don’t.

Pros:

Gorgeous visual effects and design. I love the gold ink style of the Eternals and the iridescent, shifting paper strip muscles of the Deviants.This visual world feels distinctive and unique within the MCU, a feat that hasn’t been accomplished by much else besides Doctor Strange and Thor: Ragnarok.

I also am so happy that the fights between our protagonists and antagonists aren’t the usual Marvel fare - twinsies but one is evil OR swarm of mindless alien/supernatural/robot hordes that all look the exact same. This is a refreshing change of pace, wherein each fight is visually distinctive and interesting and I can actually keep track of who is fighting whom. Novel!

This is the most philosophically interesting entry in the MCU by far. Are the Eternals good guys? Bad guys? Apex predators? I’m not sure! That’s pretty interesting for a billion dollar tentpole movie!

Solid performances all around, and each character gets room to have an arc or at least an interesting interpersonal dynamic or two. However, there are 10 Eternals to develop and get us invested in, and that’s a tall order, even for the movie’s bloated 2 hr 36 min runtime.

Vistas. Chloe Zhao knows how to shoot a fucking vista. Vistas are the star of the show here. 

There is a Very Good Dog who appears briefly and is unharmed!

Features maybe my favorite exit out of any conflict in the MCU, which essentially amounts to “I’m just gonna fuck off into the sun forever.”

Two very big deal end credits scenes that I promptly had to Google to decipher the meaning of, because if you’re not Googling at the end of the movie, do you even have a franchise, bro? Related note - there are two new characters that show up and both are played by famous people. I *freaked out* about one of them, and it definitely was not the one played by an international pop superstar. 

Cons:

There’s a weird, very tame sex scene on a beach - why? Who wanted this? 

I hated the ending which wasn’t an ending, but rather a cliffhanger. 

It’s just trying to do A Lot, to middling results. I was interested the whole time, but I just can’t imagine ever putting this movie on voluntarily on a Saturday afternoon for a rewatch or catching it on TV and keeping it on in the background while I make scones (in my fantasies, I’m a together adult-type person who makes scones on the weekends). This is Thor: The Dark World territory in that I will watch it as part of a marathon but will likely only within that very specific context.

Watch it, and watch it in theaters because I think the grand scope of Chloe Zhao’s direction will be best felt on the largest screen possible, but temper expectations. I’m still thinking about this movie days later, so if anything, it’s maybe the most interesting in the MCU - take that how you will.

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