#hope my handwriting is okay lol

[tomboyyyaoi]

been thinkin abt doggy honami

[bonus-links]

HOMESICK, pt. 7

first | prev | next>>

PATREON

[yourplaywright]

it’s happening

we are plotting

please blame @yuukirita for whatever comes of this, this is ENTIRELY your fault, also @reader-from-another-dimension’s piece has inspired me quite a bit….

[once-in-a-half-life]

some new half life doodles

oh and also a ton of selfship / oc x canon doodles with gman under the cut, that i've done over the year lol

[armenelols]

A moment of silence for my two failed attempts at an easy five minute test, not because I didn't know the answers, but because I forgot capital letters exist and also wasn't sure if lithium is lithium or litium in Czech

[formulaforza]

miss americana and the heartbreak prince

—09. Sweet Nothing —word count: 8.5k —warnings: none :) love, mack... sorry. SORRY. you can't even begin to imagine how different my life is from when i last updated. SORRY. technically I got paid to write this lol.

Charles turns up to pre-season testing with a gifted case on his phone. It’s from Reid, FORZA CHARLES written in his best handwriting, colored red with his new set of crayons from his birthday. It’s been on his phone since the five-year-old gifted it to him because Reid was too excited about it for Charles to do anything but put it on. 

Reid had carefully explained that it was a good luck charm—but that Charles is not allowed to be mad if it didn’t have enough luck, since he had to rush to make it before Charles had to leave. 

Reid had played it so incredibly cool ( see: jumping around Chris' kitchen after school squealing like a baby pig ) when Chris had shown him a picture of Charles with the phone case on in the paddock. There’s a certain softness that she feels watching his excitement over something so small, something that gets this kid so incredibly excited because he thinks Charles is so cool. There’s something soft, and there’s also something so incredibly terrifying about it. That she let Reid develop this relationship—even if oh-so-small—with Charles, because now if it goes wrong, if it sours… not only is it going to screw her up in the head royally, but now she’s going to have to explain it to Reid, too. To break his heart, too. She thinks Charles is completely clueless as to the amount of people he’s got completely wrapped around his finger. 

Reid, in all his pure and unadulterated joy, insists that Chris call him up so Reid can share in the joy with her boyfriend--because no matter how many times she attempts to explain it to the kid, he can’t fathom the idea of timezones. 

Chase has always been so good at navigating them, even though he has ever been only, at most, a few hours off the time at home. He’s never missed a bedtime story or a goodnight kiss if he could help it. They’ve always been so good at it, him and Hannah, that Reid is truly unable to conceptualize why someone away at a race can’t talk on the phone with him. 

“He’s sleeping, Reid,” Chris says, shaking her head, and taking her phone back from his grubby hands. “I’m not calling him in the middle of the night.”

“It’s not the middle of the night!” He protests, and he’s not wrong. “It’s just after school time.”

Chris sighs. “But he’s not here. He’s somewhere far away, remember? We talked about this before he left?”

“No! Facetime him!”

She rolls her eyes. They go back and forth for some time like that, her arguing with a five-year-old about time zones. It’s only becoming clearer that there are only two ways for this to end. Either Reid throws the fit of all fits until Hannah gets off work to come pick him up, or Chris calls Charles. If she hadn’t spent all day already keeping five-year-olds from throwing a tantrum, she might have had the strength to endure another grumpy kid. But, she had spent the day on eggshells, so she makes the call and hopes his phone is turned off so it doesn’t wake him up. 

Despite her hopes, he answers, even though it’s past midnight there. She’s apologizing before she can even make out the shape of his face on the dark screen. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. His voice is groggy and sleepy and he speaks through a yawn, shaking his head in a dismissal of her apology. “Es-tu…” he groans. “Are you okay?”

“Yes!” She quips. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Reid just wanted to say hello. I promise it won’t be more than a minute.” Momentarily, she considers shoving her nephew into the pantry where it’s dark. Where the bright light of Chris’ kitchen isn’t going to hurt Charles’ eyes in the dark of his room.  

“It’s okay,” he smiles, and God. God, he looks so sleepy and sweet and if she didn’t feel so horribly guilty for waking him up, she’d be thinking about how badly she wants to kiss him. He turns on a lamp and cringes at the brightness of it. Her wince is disguised as a smile. “Where is he?”

Here, she says, handing the phone off to Reid, a half-scold, half-warning leaving her lips in the form of be quick. He grabs her phone with the heel of both his palms, keeping his greasy snack fingers off her screen, setting it down with a light clatter onto the countertop, forehead peeking in at the bottom of the screen. “Hi, Chuck!” Reid greets. “Auntie Chris says you’re sleeping!” he giggles. 

“Auntie Chris was right,” Charles laughs softly, and now she just wants to kiss him. She doesn’t get to see him sleepy nearly as much as she’d like to, as much as other girlfriends get to see their boyfriends sleepy. 

She manages to swallow the guilt gnawing away at her bones, silence the already rehearsed apologies she’ll be uttering the next time they speak, and just listens fondly to Charles entertaining Reid. He's so patient. So kind in his efforts to get close with her family. He doesn’t have to do that—seriously. Most people wouldn’t talk to their girlfriend’s nephew on the phone in the middle of the night. Then again, most people wouldn’t fly a quarter of the way around the world for that same nephew’s fifth birthday party—or travel that same distance for a family wedding on a fifth date. In fact, most people would be so put off by the idea of having to do those things, they would never in a million years entertain the idea of dating someone who lives around the world. Most people wouldn’t, and yet. Charles would. Charles does. Each and every time, he does. 

— — —

“So, he comes up to me, right?” She laughs, “I’m trying to give a reading test, and he walks up, and I almost tell him to go sit back in his seat because he’s supposed to be silent reading,” She continues. It’s 12:03 am, at least that’s what her microwave clock tells her. It’s 12:03 am in Georgia and when they’d gotten on Facetime twenty-one minutes ago, he’d told her exactly two things. 

One—the car is shit. Two—I don’t want to talk about it. 

So, she didn’t ask any questions and instead launched into the story she’d been anxiously waiting to tell him all about since it had happened that morning at school.

“But before I can say anything,” she explains to her phone camera—to him, on the other side of the globe— “He says, ‘Um, Miss Elliott, um, my tooth falled out,’' She grins, and Charles matches her expression because even across continents it’s a contagious smile. It was the first time any of her students had lost a tooth in class, and the room proceeded to erupt into chaos, she would continue to tell him. “It was crazy,” she laughs. “I didn’t know what to do with him.”

“So what did you do?” Charles asks, laughing himself. 

“I took him and his tooth down to the office,” she says, half out of breath. “And I let them handle it. I was way out of my depth. The nurse brought him back like, ten minutes later with a plastic tooth necklace that held the tooth all day.”

— — —

Chris is cozied up on the couch with Bean, babysitting the dog for her parents while they traveled to Vegas for her brother’s race when Charles DNFs in Bahrain. 

Her heart sinks, through the couch and through the floor and deep into her non-existent basement. It might even go all the way through the world and into Australia to wait for Charles to get there in a few weeks. 

Once he’s out of the car and they show him on camera, he looks so annoyed. Defeated and annoyed in a way she isn’t sure she’s ever seen him, and like he could use a hug. A bear hug. She wants to stick her arms through the television and around him and hug him and kiss him and make him laugh and get that look off his face. She wants the car to turn into a person she can fight. To kiss him all over and run her finger through his helmet hair until he forgets about it for a little while. To tell him how she’s sorry. And how she. How she… how she likes him so much. 

How, maybe someday. Someday, in a vast and distant future, she loves him so much that it scares her to think about for more than a moment. How—again, maybe someday in a timeline she can't imagine yet—she thinks of him constantly. How he’s burrowed his way into her skin and how every time she sees the color red she doesn’t think of it as angry or harsh or mean, she just thinks of him. 

How she loves him, maybe, and it’s wholly terrifying. She hates that she loves him, maybe, because she knows it’s only a matter of time. She’d really, truly hoped he would come to his senses before it got to this point, this drowning slowly in his honey words and soft smile, hoped that he would have found her too much and too messy and not worth all the energy and time and money. But he hasn’t. He hasn’t, and now she loves him, maybe, and has nowhere to put all this fear. 

She waits for him to call her, and he does, hours later when it’s got to be the middle of the night there. She can’t keep the time difference straight and has googled it at least half a dozen times today alone. 

“Did you watch?” he asks, and he doesn’t sound defeated, not like he had during testing. He sounds… dejected, if anything but normal. 

“Yeah,” she says, even though there wasn’t much to watch. 

“They’re saying on Twitter I looked hot,” he chuckles, and it puts a soft smile on her face. She pulls her knees to her chest, picking at the lint on the knees of her leggings. “At least I have that going, huh?”

“You always look hot,” she says, her smile growing.

“True,” he says, and he follows it with a laugh. An honest to god laugh that makes her heart swell. 

“Besides the obvious,” she says, adjusting in her seat, “It was a good race.”

“It was definitely not a good race,” he chuckles. 

Chris continues to pick at her leggings. They’re covered in lint from her blanket and hair from the dog. “Well, I thought it was good. I know you didn’t finish, but… if you had,” she smiles gently. He was on track for a podium. If he had finished. 

“But I didn’t,” He sighs himself into a perfect frown. 

“Eh,” she waves it off with her hand. “Semantics, semantics. Rose and thorn.”

“Rose and thorn,” he nods, quirking a brow. “What is rose and thorn?”

“Oh,” she shrugs, “you know. Like… take the good with the bad? The rose and the thorn,” she explains. “You were having a good race—rose. You didn’t finish the race—thorn.”

“Ah,” he says, his head dropping down into a chuckle. “Rose and thorn, yes.”

— — —

One thing you learn when you’re the aunt of a five-year-old little leaguer is that every single team is actually just a major league baseball team rebranded for whatever city these elementary schoolers are playing in. Same names, same logos—sometimes they’ll change the color scheme, but sometimes they can get away with keeping it. In Reid’s case, they kept even the color scheme. 

Chris supposes this makes her outfit choice for his season opener significantly easier. It’s sunny and sixty-five degrees and Chris is wearing a Detroit Tigers sweatshirt—Navy blue with a white old English D embroidered on the front—and a pair of blue jeans. Reid’s tee-ball team is oh-so derivatively named the Dawsonville Tigers. 

It’s Reid’s third year playing baseball, his third year playing tee-ball. Next year, he’ll get to move up to the real little league, which will only give Chase and Hannah a million more practices and tournaments, and games to travel to. Reid is counting down the days until he gets to play with the bigger kids. Chase and Hannah… not so much. 

They, along with the rest of the family, have grown relatively attached to the comedy show of a bunch of preschoolers chasing baseballs around a bunch of gravel. Chase is an assistant coach, and he’s been swearing up and down in the family group chat that at least ten of the fifteen kids on the team know they’re supposed to run to first base after they hit a fair ball. At least ten of them, and the coaches are working hard to get the other five on track as soon as possible. 

Chris and Hannah sit in folding camping chairs behind the fencing catching up while they watch the show, sipping boxed wine from Hannah’s secret purse-stash in their matching YETI wine tumblers. 

The conversation starts with a rundown of the team this year—of the moms, more importantly. Which ones Hannah likes, and which ones look at her like she’s still a nineteen-year-old with a baby she doesn’t know what to do with. It’s a common thing for Hannah, even now that she’s got a settled career and a house and a whole life with Chase. It doesn’t matter, not to the bitter southern housewives with nothing better to do than spend their time hating other women. 

It starts there. And somehow, with the quick exclamation of Oh! You’ll never believe what Miss Julie told me about Kacie! The two girls are deep in gossip about someone from high school’s relationship. It always seems to go like this, when Hannah gets this endless well of gossip from work, from the hours spent waiting for bleach to process and colors to develop in the salon. 

“But wait, forget about that!” Hannah laughs. “How’s Charles!? Your dad said he had a shit race?”

Chris furrows her brows, swallowing a sip of wine. “My dad knows how his race went?” She asks, and Hanah shrugs. “I mean, yeah, he did,” she chuckles. “Power unit issues, even though they literally replaced the battery and the ECU that morning.  They have to replace the whole thing, so he’s going to have to take a penalty next race too,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “For the ECU that they just replaced.”

Hannah scowls. “That’s fucked,” she laughs, covering her mouth, doing a poor job at concealing her wine giggles. “He’s coming to visit in a couple weeks, right?”

“Mmhm,” Chris hums. “He’s like…” she laughs, “so geeked out about coming to one of these games. I told him they’re so boring, but. He’s adorable.”

“I’m sure he’s more geeked about other things,” Hannah teases, playfully shoving Chris’ shoulder. “Long distance fucking sucks for the sex life,” she giggles. Chris blushes bright red, holding her hands up in surrender before taking a long sip of wine and asking for a refill. 

Chandler shows up somewhere between the third wine tumbler and the fourth inning of the baseball game. She’s in her work clothes, complete with the kitten heels that sink into the muddy grass with every step she takes. She taps the opposite shoulder of Chris that she stands behind, and Chris falls for it, turning back the other way to see her, to smile genuinely because they haven’t had the chance to get annoyed with each other yet, haven’t had the chance to get annoyed with each other since they last saw the other at Chase and Hannah’s wedding.

“Are you still with that guy?” She asked, from her seat in Chris’ camping chair. She felt too bad watching her heels sink in and out of the mud, so now she leans against the fencing while Chandler sits. “The French one?”

Chris nods, her arms crossed over her chest. “Monegasque,” she corrects. “But yes. Still together.”

“Hmm,” Chandler hums curiously, picking at her cuticles. “Are you ever going out to see him?” She asks. 

“Uh,” Chris sighs, dragging her toe through the gravel, drawing harsh lines and kicking up dust. “I’m gonna fly out for spring break,” she says. “But he wants me away from Monaco.”

“He wants you to stay away?” Chandler asks, and Chris doesn’t miss the tone of voice, eyes darting to Hannah to confirm the condescending tone she already knows she heard. Hannah closes her eyes before she can roll them, and takes a sip of her wine, leaning back in her seat, crossing her legs. 

“Not like that, Chan, come on,” Chris sighs. “I don’t want to be there. We don’t want to be there. It’s too hard, everyone knows him there and we don’t want anyone to know me.”

“So, he’s hiding you?”

“No,” Chris shakes her head, pursing her lips together. “We’re being private. He’s trying to protect me.”

“Alright,” Chandler chuckles, putting her hands up in defense. “I’m just saying, I never would have hidden Lex.”

Chris’ head physically recoils, forcing a scoff out of her mouth. Hannah laughs, too. “You literally hid Lex for two years,” Hannah says. “Like, genuinely you hid her from all of us.”

“That’s different,” Chandler argues. “I wouldn’t have hidden her if she was a man.”

“And Charles wouldn’t be ‘hiding’ me,” She says, forced air quotes around the word she can’t come up with a synonym for. “If every woman he interacts with wasn’t crucified,” she defends. “Can’t you just give him the benefit of the doubt, Jesus.” Chandler rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone, answering texts or emails or whatever else is so pressing as a distraction from the current conversation. “Seriously?”

“What?” Chandler spits, rolling her eyes. “I’m just looking out for you, Chris. You don’t have the greatest track record with guys, so forgive me for being hesitant to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Chris bites her tongue, literally, and purses her lips. She nods, watching the dead serious look in her sister’s eyes with a glare of equal intensity. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of death stares, Chris puts a pretty smile on her face. “I’m really happy you came all this way, Chandler,” she grins, slipping her phone into her back pocket. “I’m sure Reid will be thrilled to see you,” she continues. “He missed you at his birthday party,” she adds, squeezing her sister’s shoulder as she passes, walking away and kicking up gravel when she does it. 

Saudi Arabia is no better. He has a great qualifying, but he also has that pesky grid penalty and a Ferrari that just doesn’t seem to have anything even close to race pace. The car just feels… so undriveable. So unpredictable. One corner it’s all oversteer, and the next it’s a completely different car, fully understeery. It’s just. It’s terrible, really, and he’s known it since the first time he got in the car. 

It doesn’t help that he spends the whole race stuck behind Carlos, who seems to have just as much pace as he does. He calls Chris that night, so fucking angry, and she gets an earful, one that he immediately apologizes for dumping on her after he’s gotten it all out. 

“It's okay,” she tells him. “I’m just glad that your bad days don’t line up with mine,” she joked, and he laughed because it’s impossible not to laugh at her jokes, even when he feels like shit. “Better days are coming,” she promised, and he wanted to believe her, but he also knew this car inside and out. 

“Not soon enough,” he told her, and she smiled. He can’t get enough of her smile. 

“Patience, grasshopper,” she teased, holding up both her hands in a meditative pose, humming out an ommm. 

“You are so dumb,” he giggles. 

“Oh, please,” she says, opening her eyes, relaxing again. “You love me.”

There’s a heavy beat of silence. So heavy that it can’t even be blamed on FaceTime lag. 

His brain is malfunctioning; heart racing, palms clammy, entire body sweating thinking she knows. Thinking he’s been entirely too obvious about it and not done nearly as good of a job as he thought. You should tell her. You should tell her. Yes. Yes, I do love you. I love you so much I don’t know how to tell you. I love you so much that I’m scared telling you is going to mess it all up. 

He can’t tell her like this, though. Not now, when he’s halfway around the whole and every nerve of his body is frustrated.  No, it needs to be when he’s with her. Not over the phone. He’s completely clueless as to when or where or what the right time is, but he knows this sure as hell isn’t it. 

So, he stays quiet. Because he’s sure if he speaks he’s going to just blurt it all out, and he hasn't kept his mouth shut this long just to say it like this. She’ll have to break the silence. It feels like it takes an eternity for her to do it. 

“So, uh, what time does your flight land here, again?” She asks, and his shoulders loosen just a bit. 

“Yeah,” he nods, wondering if she can hear his heartbeat through the phone. It seems like it’s the only thing he can hear. “Sorry, uh. Yeah. Let me look,” he says, grabbing his phone from its propped-up place on the hotel coffee table and scrolling through it to find his ticket to Georgia. “Five… ish.”

“What time do you leave?”

“Eight-something?” He says, still looking at the flight information. 

“What time is it now?” She asks. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. He’s been making a habit of losing track of time with her. “Late.”

“Go to sleep,” she says, her voice playing out of his phone speakers softly. He smiles at her voice, at her instructions, at the fact she cares enough to tell him to go to sleep. 

“Yes ma’am,” he says, and then salutes her for good measure. 

“Merci,” she giggles in butchered French, and his ears perk up like a puppy, a grin painting itself onto his face. 

“Oh?” He laughs. ““Tu parles français maintenant, n'a pas? fille drôle, je pourrais te dire ce que je veux et tu ne sauras jamais mieux,” You speak french now, do you? Silly girl, I could say whatever I want to you and you wouldn’t know any better. 

“Goodnight,” she says, ignoring the French they both know she can’t even begin to translate in her mind. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he nods. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Miss Elliott has to leave right after the bell today, friends,” Chris hums, leaning against the front of her classroom desk, holding a stack of school newsletters. “Do you think we can get our room nice and clean before the end of the day?” She asks, smiling and nodding at the spattering of little yeses and nods. “Okay,” she grins, pointing to the whiteboard. “All of our tasks are on the big board,” she explains, running through each table and their room assignments. 

The class stays about on task as a herd of twenty-something five-year-olds possibly can, with Chris reminding them to stay on task—and reminding them what their task is—from her seated spot on the group rug, cleaning up the class library with a couple of other students. 

“Where are you going to, Miss Elliott?” Quinn asks her, handing over a book. 

“I have to go to Atlanta,” Chris hums, putting the book on the correct shelf. “Do you know where Atlanta is?”

Quinn nods, handing over another book from the pile on the floor. “Far away.”

“It’s not soooo far,” Chris smiles.

“I just have a uncle there.”

“Oh yeah? That’s nice. Do you ever go visit him?” Chris asks. 

Quinn doesn’t answer the question. “Does you have an uncle in Atlanta?”

“Nope,” she shakes her head. “I have to pick someone up at the airport.”

“Your boyfriendddd?” Quinn giggles, dragging out the letter sounds teasingly. 

“A boyfriend?!” Chris grins, laughing. “You think I have a boyfriend? I spend all my time at school with you!”

“No!” She laughs. “Landry sayed you have a cute boyfriend!”

“What?” Chris giggles, snatching a book from Quinn playfully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, crazy girl.”

— — —

With the help of her students, Chris manages to get the room put together for the next morning in less than fifteen minutes after the end of the school day, checking Charles’ flight tracking one more time before setting off from the parking lot to the airport an hour away. 

He emerges from the sliding doors of his terminal with his bags and a bouquet of flowers. Chris is shaking her head, cheeks already half-pink and mind more than half-melted when she hastily parks against the curb, popping her trunk and hurrying around the back of the car to greet him properly. 

“Get in the car,” she giggles, “before they start honking at us!” she says, but Charles couldn’t care less about the angry airport goers behind him, leaving his suitcase on the curb, waiting with his arms already open and a tired, jet-lagged smile on his face. 

Chris resists the urge to just throw his entire body into the car and speed away from the terminal, instead hugging him tight, arms wrapping around his frame, slipping into the space between him and his backpack, the plastic casing from the flowers crinkling against her back when he hugs her just as tight. 

He kisses her hair hastily, “Hi,” he mumbles, watching her lips carefully. 

“Hi,” she smiles, giddy. “Eyes up here, brother,” she teases. 

Charles scowls, dropping his backpack off his shoulder and lifting it up into the trunk. “Do not call me brother.”

“Too incest-y?”

“I can get another plane,” he teases, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, and hoisting his suitcase off the curb with his other hand. 

“Go visit one of your other girls?” She asks, pressing the button on the top of the hatch to close the trunk. 

“See?” He laughs, parting from her just long enough for both of them to get into the car. “You get it,” he says, closing the car door and quickly reaching over the center console to pull Chris into a kiss, muttering something about you did not really think I was not going to kiss you?

It’s a familiar speech he’s given that morning, the same one she’d carefully handed out when he was here months ago. The be safe, don’t get eaten by a bear lecture. That’s not where it ends, though. Chris continues to go on and on and on about her Mom’s birthday party that evening—one of the many reasons he’d decided now was a perfect time for a quick visit—and how he was under no circumstances to go overboard on gift-buying, or even buy a gift at all for that matter. 

“I’m going to pick up a card on my way home from work,” she explains, standing at the end of the bed, work bag slung over her shoulder, travel coffee mug in her hand. “And I’m gonna sign both of our names,” she continues. Charles rolls his eyes from the bed. “What?” She laughs. 

“Your siblings’ partners…” he yawns. “They get her their own gift, yes?”

Chris hesitates, which makes Charles grin, which forces her to grin. “Yeah, but—”

“No but.”

“But,” she laughs softly. “They’ve been around longer than you.”

Charles scoffs, feigning offense. “Stupid reason.”

“But a reason, nonetheless.”

Charles shakes his head, smiling. Dramatically, he pulls the comforter back over his head. “Goodbye,” he mumbles. 

“Goodbye. I’ll see you later,” she replies, her shoes creaking against the floor as she moves through the hallway. “No gifts!”

“100 percent buying a gift, but okay!” he calls back, pulling the covers back down, listening just long enough to hear her car pull away from the driveway before turning the nightstand lamp off and putting himself back to sleep. 

— — —

When he wakes up again, much closer to an acceptable morning time, he’s already racking his brain for gift ideas. 

It’s an area of life he’s never considered himself particularly strong in. Sometime shortly after the appropriate period of making his Mum a homemade necklace from uncooked macaroni noodles and washable markers, he discovered he was particularly inapt at choosing gifts. 

It’s a shame, really, because he’s always felt like a good listener—especially when it came to people he cared for. And yet, every holiday and birthday and anniversary he’s struggling to come up with something besides an outrageously priced bouquet of flowers at the local florist. 

Which is why he sits on the sofa, legs kicked up on the ottoman, laptop on his legs as he searches What to get your girlfriend’s mum for her birthday? Birthday presents for Mum. Birthday gift ideas. Birthday gifts for Mums near me. What should you get your mother-in-law for her birthday?

Nothing is right. Everything is too silly or too impersonal or too cheap or too expensive for Chris to forgive him for buying. He’s scrolled through so many pages and so many articles hoping for an idea to spark that he’s starting to go crazy. 

Defeated, he closes the laptop, abandoning it on the couch cushion next to him, and dragging his feet all the way to the bedroom, planning on flopping face down on the bed. Instead, he comes face to face with the unmade mess, sighing. He haphazardly peels all of the layers off the bed, stripping the pillows of their cases, tossing them onto the pile of blankets on the floor. With two new pillowcases from the linen closet, he carefully remakes the bed. 

But now, there’s laundry. So he gathers up the pillowcases and the plastic purple hamper in the corner of the room and hauls it all to the laundry room. He tosses the entire hamper into the washing machine, and then stares at the shelf of containers. Three look dustier than the orange plastic container, so he picks up that tote and reads the instructions on the side of the box, following them carefully. When he closes the top of the washing machine, the start button glows green. He doesn’t dare adjust any of the settings, pressing the button and saying a soft prayer to the laundry gods. 

He pulls the dry clothes from the dryer, putting them back into the hamper—and they’re all white. Fuck. Was he supposed to do that with the pile of clothes he’d just dumped? Too late now. Another prayer to the laundry gods. He heads back to the bedroom, dumping the clean white clothes onto the freshly made bed, and folding away at them. He sorts them out by drawer, checking the continents of each drawer half a dozen times, and puts everything where he’s nearly certain it belongs—first in the closet, then in the dresser. 

Sitting atop the dresser are two loose rings and an unclasped necklace. He puts both the rings on the plate of her jewelry stand, and carefully clasps the necklace back together. It’s a thin gold chain with a row of several pearls in the middle. He hangs it gently with the other three pearl-styled necklaces that hang from the top pole of the rack. Pearls, pearls, pearls. She’s always wearing pearls. The next pole has half a dozen bracelets, most with pearls incorporated, and he can’t even begin to count the pairs of pearl earrings in the dish. It’s always pearls, because of what her Mom always says. Pearls make a lady. 

Pearls make a fucking lady. The answer to his question has been literally sitting in front of him this entire time. New Google search—re: Jewelers near me. 

— — — 

Charles is in the kitchen assessing the fridge for snack options when the front door is swinging open at a speed he can’t believe doesn’t result in a loud clattering of the house shaking. “Chuck!” A small voice calls out into the house, followed by another thud, presumably his backpack against the floor of the foyer. The noise continues, heavy little feet running down the hallway through the house, in his direction. Quieter, he can hear Chris, the metal jingling of her keys against the coated aluminum of her travel coffee cup, the click of her shoes down the hallway floor. His name is not Chuck, she hums behind the small boy. “And my name ain’t Reidy but you’s still call me that.”

“That’s different.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” Chris mocks. “I’m the boss,” she says, calling after the boy as he walks through the kitchen doorway. “I get to do whatever I want!” Chris calls out from another room in the house. 

Reid catches Charles’ eyes, squeezing between him and the fridge. He rolls his eyes, twirling his finger beside his head. “You are not the boss,” he insists, grabbing a juice box and a stick of mozzarella cheese. “You are like my stupid little boss.”

Finally, Chris appears in the doorway, shaking her head. Her eyes meet his and he feels himself grinning—an almost embarrassing amount. She looks so pretty, he thinks. So full of life and color. “I’m his stupid little boss,” she says, grinning. 

“Ah,” he nods, closing the fridge doors, moving to kiss her hello. “It’s like this, you know?”

“Do not tell me you haven’t gotten a gift yet!” Chris scolds her brother. First, he’s fifteen minutes late to pick up his kid, and then he has the gusto to ask her what she bought their mom for her birthday…. To give to her at the party in two hours. 

“Okay,” Chase laughs, “I won’t tell you.”

“Chase!”

“I have like, two hours,” he shrugs, looking at his watch. “Relax.”

“You’re ridiculous!” She insists, rolling her eyes. “Seriously. I got her a new Circuit because she’s always telling Dad how slow the one she has is running. And then I got her a bunch of scrapbooking stuff to go along with it.”

Chase nods, burying his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “And he’s just signing his name?” He asks, looking past her in the doorway to Charles, currently half-engaged in a Mario-Kart battle with Reid. Chris nods. 

“Actually—” Charles interrupts, eyes still focused on the game, hands moving with intentional precision over the controller buttons. “About that. I got her one of those….” he trails off, moving one hand to gesture around his neck. “You know. For your… here.”

“Your neck?” Chris questions. “You went out and bought a necklace?” She continues, thumbing at the gold chain around her neck. 

“Necklace!” He snaps his fingers, pointing in her direction before immediately flopping back into the sofa cushions, Reid laughing maniacally beside him at the sight of his rainbow road victory. “A pearl necklace,” he adds, holding his hand out to shake Reid’s. 

Chris smiles. A pearl necklace. A friggin’ pearl necklace. It’s so simple that it’s stupid, really. It’s dumb. It’s stupid and it’s dumb and it’s cliche, in all honesty—that he is the person to remember a one-off about pearls when he can’t remember anything else. 

“Oh, fuck you, that’s good,” Chase groans. “Hannah got her this, like… a cutting board with a recipe burnt into it or something.”

Chris shakes her head softly, still thumbing her necklace. “It’s Meemaw’s brownie recipe,” she says, her eyes glossed over, mind elsewhere. 

“On a cutting board? Because brownies famously need a cutting board.”

“Shut up,” she says softly, smacking his chest with the back of her hand. “It’s cute.”

“It’s expensive.”

Chris’s attention snaps back to her brother. “You won like, literally a million dollars a few months ago. But a cutting board for Mom is too expensive?” She questions, raising her brows, crossing her arms over her chest. “You better find something,” she warns.

Chase holds up his hands in defense. “I know. Worst case scenario, I’m a little bit late to dinner, okay?”

“Get out of my house,” Chris shuffles, gesturing to the open front door. 

“We’re going, we’re going,” Chase laughs, gathering Reid’s backpack from the floor, and helping the boy tie his shoes. 

Chris closes the door behind them, staring at Charles, her back pressed against the cool door. He looks back guiltily, gathering the controllers and putting them on the end table. “I’m sorry–”

“A pearl necklace?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Do you want to see it?”

She shakes her head, moving to join him on the couch, an almost painful smile pulling on her lips as she curls up against him. “I want it to be a surprise,” she hums softly. Charles adjusts underneath her slightly, wrapping an arm around her frame, pressing a kiss into the top of her head. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “I’m just happy you’re here,” she adds. 

Is it possible for love to be a pearl necklace?

It’s an easy routine they’ve found—early morning alarms and goodbye kisses and listening to her try to sneak around the creaky floors without waking him up. 

Today, he gets a guest pass to a local gym and works out in the corner following a workout plan Andrea had sent him—minus the neck training. That’s not happening alone in public. 

After the gym, he heads to a grocery store—the biggest one he’s ever seen. He spends more time trying to figure out where he is in the store than he does actually shopping. Like, how many different kinds of pudding could one person need? A whole wall of cereal? Of chicken? Of milk? Be serious. It’s insane. What was meant to be a quick trip to the store for dinner ingredients has turned into a whole ordeal. 

He was just trying to make things easier—for Chris, not for him. It was the middle of her work week and instead of planning a lazy night at home, she’d planned out a million and one things for them to do while he was in town. Charles can’t help but feel like she’s trying to keep him entertained, and it’s a feeling he hates. It’s not her job to keep him entertained. He’s not a toddler. 

So, in response to their full evening schedule of a little league baseball game for her nephew, the possibility of some type of family gathering to follow that could last any vast pan of time, he figured the least he could do is make dinner and have it waiting for her when she got home. They aren’t on Reid duty after school, so it will just be the two of them. It can’t be that hard. 

He’s in the kitchen, humming along to The Kooks—watching the chicken and pasta and stirring the white sauce when she walks through the front door. “Bonjour bébé,” she says, walking through the doorway into the kitchen. 

His head shoots up from the pot on the stove, a smile instantly falling across his lips. “Oh, c’est bien, mon ange,” he says, even though her pronunciation was so forced she’d be laughed out of Paris. She’s trying, and he loves it, and he loves her. So, it’s a good job. 

“Really?” She beams. “It was good?”

He can’t help but smile at a smile like hers. “Yeah, very good,” he nods, kissing her quickly. 

“What are you making?” She asks, hoisting herself up onto the countertop beside the stove, wafting the air in the direction of her face. “It smells good.”

“Chicken and pasta,” he says. “One day, we are going to make pasta from the beginning.”

“You know how to make pasta from scratch?” She asks. 

Charles raises his brows, giggling to himself softly. “To be honest, no. I was hoping you did.”

Chris laughs out loud. “Oh. Well, then. We’re screwed.”

“No,” he frowns. “We’re in serious trouble if I have to be the good cook.”

“I’m not a bad cook!’ She insists, feigning dramatic offense, clutching her pearls, literally. Charles cocks his head to the side, glancing over to her. He smiles a come-on, now smile when she raises her brows in defense, an ache-inducing smile on her face. She is so beautiful it hurts. She is so soft it hurts. She is so, he supposes. End of sentence. 

“Et je ne t'aime pas,” And I do not love you, he mutters, leaning over to press a quick kiss into her lips, lingering just long enough to feel her grin. 

“En Ingles, por favor, Señor?” She asks, quirking a brow. 

“Not a shot in hell.”

“Please?” She frowns, and he actually considers it. Just momentarily, but considered nonetheless. Because what a moment this is. What a time it would be to do it, to say it, to make it known.

Instead, he shakes his head. “Maybe later.”

— — — 

“You’re going to want a jacket,” Charles mutters, moving behind her in the bathroom, sizing up her outfit. They’re getting ready to head out to the baseball game, and she’s wearing leggings and a blue sweatshirt with an Old English D on it—one that apparently matches the color and logo of Reid’s team uniforms. He’s opted for jeans, a white t-shirt, and a blue knit zip-up sweatshirt. It’s quite chilly out, and despite the sun peeking through the clouds, it’s windy. 

“I’ll be fine,” she says, running a brush through her hair. 

They remember to bring a backpack full of snacks, as well as two travel thermos mugs of drinks that are certainly not alcoholic. They forget their camping chairs, though, as well as the sweater Charles had planned on bringing for when Chris decided she did in fact want a jacket. And most importantly, they forget how to keep their mouths shut. 

It’s cold. It only gets colder as the sun sets, as the game continues. Neither their drinks nor the bottle of wine smuggled in by another one of the player’s mothers manage to keep the chill off. 

Chris stands against the fence that goes around the field with her mom, talking animatedly about who knows what. Charles steals Cindy’s empty seat beside Hannah. He watches as Chase and Reid walk up to them—Reid kicking up a trail of gravel dust with every excited skip. 

“Do you want kids?” Hannah blurts out from the seat next to him, and then before even a beat can pass, “Jesus, sorry,” she laughs. “Sorry. Ignore me.”

“No,” he smiles, as soon as he can regain his composure from the blindside of do you want kids. “It’s okay,” he reassures, adjusting in his seat, his eyes lingering on Chris for a moment longer than usual—just to make sure she isn’t hearing this conversation. 

“It’s really not,” she laughs, shaking her head, taking another sip of her definitely-not-wine. “It’s just that if Chase and I die, Chris gets Reid. And she’s… I mean. You see her. You know her,” she says. The sentence left unsaid is that anyone who has ever met Chris would know that if anyone was ever born to be a mother, it’s her. “And she really likes you. Like, a lot,” Hannah whispers. “And I like you, too—but I won’t ever like anyone enough to let her sacrifice something I know is so important to her—”

“I want children, Hannah,” he laughs, cutting her off. “Do not worry.”

“You do?”

“Three.”

“And you want to get married?”

He nods again, almost instinctively looking to his girlfriend, because, as he would argue if pressed about it—who else do you look at but your girlfriend when someone asks you about marriage? “Yes.”

Hannah notices his lingering glance, apparently, because the next words out of her mouth are: “To Chris?” Charles cocks his head back over to face Hannah, rolling his eyes when he does it. Hannah nods. “Sorry, fuck,” she laughs, covering her own mouth. “I know, what’s wrong with me?”

“It,” he starts, but then he’s stopping himself because he isn’t exactly sure what he planned to say. “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re just being a good friend—a good sister,” he pauses, looking back to Chris quickly, spinning his ring around his finger. “I don’t think it is the craziest thought, maybe,” he says, and he’s as surprised to say it as Hannah is to hear it. “But,” he holds up a finger and laughs. “Ask me in six months and I bet I can give you a proper answer.”

Hannah smiles, raising her brows, and takes another sip of her drink. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“Oh, I’m counting on that,” he says, and now he can stare without care. It’s normal, he tells himself, to think about it all after it’s talked about like that. It’s not his fault that he’s picturing it��his future, her future. Their future together. He thinks that maybe if he squints really hard and takes a step back he can see himself getting married. That maybe she’s there too, in some wedding dress that probably has pockets. 

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?” Hannah asks, and it pops into his mindless bubble of crazy. He laughs, shakes his head, and pulls his phone out without saying a word. “You totally are,” Hannah giggles, and he feels his cheeks flush. “Look at you blushing, oh my god!”

Charles rolls his eyes, a smile pulling on the corners of his lips. “Shut up,” he mumbles. 

He watches from his conversation with Hannah, watches as Chris stands at the chain-link fence, hugging her own arms and shifting her weight from one foot to the other like she needs to pee, trying and trying to warm herself up with the friction of her own arms. 

“Did she bring a coat?” Hannah asks. 

“No,” Charles replies. “But she’s half a minute from forcing her to put on mine.”

“She can take mine, if she wants,” Hannah offers, but Charles turns her down. 

“No, no,” he says. “I am warm, anyways,” he lies. It’s cold out, but his mother raised a gentleman. 

Chris shivers one more time and Charles has had enough of watching her stubbornness. He takes off his sweatshirt and walks up behind her, draping it over her shoulders in the middle of a sentence. 

“Hi?” Chris says sweetly, turning to look at him over her shoulder. 

“Hi,” he smiles, kissing her cheek. “You’re cold.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles and mutters a soft thank you. Charles hums his response and nods, moves to return to the empty camping chair beside Hannah. Chris reaches out to stop him, catching his hand, his fingers interlocking into hers with a casual ease. 

He stands behind her, adjacent to her conversation with her Mother, watching the game through the fence. He’s barely listening, his focus split between the game he doesn’t understand and toying with Chris’ fingers behind her back. “I’ve been learning French,” she tells her mom. Charles smiles. 

“Oh really? Where at?”

“Uh, just on my phone. I got this app that you can do lessons on every day.”

“And you chose French because of…” Cindy trails off. Chris nods, her grip on his hand tightening, which really pulls his attention. 

“I’m pretty bad but he likes to pretend I’m a pro,” she grins, leaning back into him. 

“Well,” Cindy laughs. Chris shivers, moving to put on the sweatshirt instead of just having it draped over her shoulders. “Charles, you shouldn’t be scared to put her in her place.”

“Oh,” he laughs. “No, she’s a quick learner, really.”

— — — 

Cindy excuses herself, says she’s going to go and get some hot chocolate to take the edge off of the chill, and asks if Chris or Charles want any. Charles says no, Chris says yes—offers to pay but is denied. 

Once she’s gone, Chris is spinning in the gravel to face her boyfriend. “Thank you for the sweatshirt,” she says. “And thank you for not saying you told me so.”

“Are you still cold?” He asks, putting the back of his hand on her forehead like he’s checking for a temperature. It’s chilly, but it's not bitter or wintery. 

“Yeah,” she says, swatting his hand from her forehead. “I’m fine, just can’t get warm.”

“C’mere,” He says, pulls her into a tight, warm hug, fully wrapping her up in his arms, running his hands up and down her back. She melts against his chest. “I think it’s Reid’s turn,” he points out, and Chris spins in his grip to face the same direction so he’s hugging her from behind. 

Chris whistles, “Let’s go, Reidy!” She calls out, and then quieter, just to Charles. “He’s nervous that you’re here.”

“Hmm?” he laughs. “Why?”

“He wants to impress you.”

They watch Reid’s at-bat, watch him swing and miss on the tee twice without laughing. Chris is talking to Charles about whatever she and Cindy were talking about before he came over, neither of them taking their eyes off the game. Charles kisses Chris’ covered shoulder while he listens to her talk, runs his hands up and down her arms to create some friction. 

Reid hits the ball off the tee on his third swing, and Chris actually jumps with excitement. He hits it right to the second baseman, hurries his little legs towards Chase on the first base. Chris cheers through a laugh, her body vibrating against Charles’ chest. 

In a pause in the conversation, he wonders if she’s ever been more her than she is right now. At home, with her family, a never-ending well of love and laughter and beauty. He almost wishes that he could just observe her and all that she is, admire the woman he gets to love. 

This is the moment. 

It has to be. Perfect moments don’t exist but this has to be as close as you can get. “Are you okay?” Chris asks over her shoulder, “Your heart is racing.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Um,” Fuck. Just say it, Charles. 

Chris laughs anxiously, turns around to face him, brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I love you.”

Chris doesn’t miss a beat. “No, you don’t.”

“I do,” he nods. “I’m so in love with you.”

Her face softens, the concern melting away. “Really?” God, she says it so soft that it’s almost a squeak. It hurts him how much she clearly wants to believe him. How maybe, maybe she does. He nods. “I love you, too.”

Charles beams, cradles her face in his hands and kisses her. Kisses her like they’re in love. Because they are. They pull apart in a fit of giggles, his thumb dancing on her cheek, running over a tear. “Are you crying?”

“Shut up,” she says through a smile, turning around to lean against his chest again, wiping a tear from her cheek with a sniffle. It’s cute, he says. “Shhh.”

Through a peppering of kisses on her shoulder, her hair, her cheek, he repeats between each peck. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

last chapter masterlist next chapter

[ohmykiyo]

🪦 title ; when they ask for a kiss genre ; fluff & romance warnings ; cute bf alert, lowercase intended characters ; sakusa, suna, atsumu, bokuto, oikawa, semi, ushijima 🗝️ jeilly's notes ; idk tbh thinking about sakusa being clingy makes me blush fr and i'm so proud, i finished this in 2 hours LOL, reqs r open!

SAKUSA shifts around uncomfortably as you keep your nose stuck in a book. you flip one page after another and he continues to watch you intently. he frowns and pouts but you don't notice.

"baby can you look at me?" he pouts. you turn to him, finally acknowleding him.

"what is it, love?" you sigh, flipping another page. he frowns at your clear dismissal.

"could you- i mean uhm- can i-" he stumbles over his words, frustration taking over. he's never been one to ask for things, but he can't help it when it's you.

you place your book down, not before bookmarking where you left off. you shift your body to face him completely, and he seems to stutter even more.

you smile, "what is it, baby?"

he doesn't know how to ask, he panics internally before fiddling with his hands. you sense his shyness, and put your hand over his to calm him down.

as if he's under some spell, he calms down almost instantly.

finding some bit of courage in your touch, he lifts his index finger and points at his lips.

you stare for a moment.

then you burst into uncontrollable giggles.

sakusa only watches as he deflates, turning away from you in a fit of irritation. "okay, be like that then, i don't care." he huffs.

you place your hands over his face, forcing him to face you.

you flash him the smile he adores so much, before giving him a kiss.

it was light. feathery, even. and it left sakusa craving for more.

he huffs before a shade of red tinted his ears, then he pulls you in for a few more.

SUNA sits beside you as you study in the school library for an important test coming up. he lays with his head down, facing you, eye boring into the side of your face.

you roll your eyes, "rin, stop staring, i can't focus."

he snickers before pulling out his hand to catch yours. "you're so pretty, how can i not?"

you cheeks flush with red as he finishes his sentence. you snatch your hand away to cover your face in embarrassment.

"you piss me off, hope you know that." you groan. he only chuckles at your remark, returning to his old position.

you then go back to studying. scribbling notes in your neat handwriting every few minutes.

you don't realize it, but your lips jut out in a small, unnoticeable pout.

it sends suna off the edge, wanting to lay his lips on yours.

he watches and watches, but you don't notice the stare he's giving you.

he grows impatient. the fact you clearly don't seem to glance at him makes him rolls his eyes and huff. you hear the little grunts of irritation and turn to face him.

"i can feel your bad energy radiating right now," you deadpan, "what's up your ass now?"

suna shoots you a glare, side-eyeing you in the process.

"what's up my ass is the fact you keep pouting your lips," you look at him in confusion, "you're practically begging for a kiss so c'mere."

you dodge his lips, and he sits there dumbfounded. you break into a series of giggles as he pouts and mutters a little "damn brat" under his breath.

"fine, come here baby." you say, before tugging him lightly. his lips landing right on yours.

he savors the taste of your lips, keeping you there a lot longer than intended.

once you pull away, you're out of breath, and suna's only smirking at your appearance.

you turn away with all shades of pink tinting your cheeks.

and suna knows he'll have your lips on his once again.

ATSUMU whines every five god damn minutes, hoping that it'll catch your attention. the attention which is on your phone, and you're scrolling carelessly on tiktok.

atsumu grunts once again before speaking, "can ya give me like two minutes of your attention, am dyin' over here and ya don' giva shit!"

you roll your eyes playfully, finally turning to your man-baby of a boyfriend. "okay 'tsum, you got two minutes."

"babe!" he yelps, basically sobbing dramatically at this point.

"what?" you say defensively, with a smirk plastered across your face. "you said two minutes, so i'm givin' you two minutes."

he frowns, showing you his infamous puppy eyes. you stare.. and stare.

but you don't budge at all.

"babe, am beggin' ya." he huffs, arms crossing defensively over his chest.

you couldn't believe that this six-foot blonde was pouting like an absolute child.

"fine, what is it, you big baby." you say, placing your hand on his thigh.

this only fires him up even more, craving the touch he hasn't received.

"kiss?" he pleads.

you decide to tease him a little. just a little.

"hmm? sorry, i didn't hear a please." he gets even more impatient as you test him further.

"please, ma angel, i wanna kiss ya." he frowns again, but you finally decide you comply with his wishes.

pushing his hair back and caressing his face, you pull him in for a kiss. it's a little peck, but he only wants more.

so..

he does.

pushing your head down lightly, but just enough to deepen the kiss further.

you push him away lightly.

"there, you got your kiss baby." you giggle.

he craves more, but chooses to wait a bit. leaving his hand on your plush thigh, he stares at you lovingly.

BOKUTO deflates as he witnesses you being quite busy chatting up your best friend.

he was hoping that you'd spend the dinner with him.

he knows it was a team dinner, but he didn't expect your best friend to be at the same restaurant.

he felt ignored, and a little neglected. but, he genuinely wanted to be with you at that moment.

it took a bit, but you finally slide into the booth your boyfriend was in. it didn't take long for you to notice the gloomy mood bokuto was in.

"somethin' wrong, honey?" you coo. bokuto swears he melted at the sound of your voice.

he scoots closer to you, nudging his head into the crook of your neck.

you allow him to, your hand moving up to play with the soft locks on his head.

"missed you." he whispered, scattering light kisses around your collarbone.

you smile, looking down at his cute face.

knowing him all too well, you whisper, "you craving something from me, baby?"

he sits up instantly, staring at you with neediness.

"mhm!" he perks. he waits patiently.

"tell me what you want, honey, i'm listening"

he takes your hand and allows your finger to brush lightly over his pretty lips.

"want a kiss," he says, "please."

you hum in satisfaction, guiding his face unto yours where his lips find yours.

his mouth molds against yours, almost as if he was entirely made for your existence.

he craves you more and more, hands sliding up and down your waist.

you pull away, pecking his forehead after.

bokuto sighs with content as he cuddles up impossibly closer to you.

OIKAWA lingers around in your bedroom, waiting for you to acknowledge his presence.

you're too busy scribbling things he doesn't bother to care about in your notebook.

he waits..

and waits.

and waits...

but doesn't get a hint of your attention.

he was growing agitated at the lack of attention. he could even go as far as saying that you were neglecting him.

he finally gives in, choosing to tap you lightly on the shoulder.

it was only then when you realized he was home.

"oh! tooru, hi babe!" you chirp. you don't even seem to notice the slight furrow of his eyebrows and the pout on his lips.

"i've been here for an hour, y/n." he states. your face contorts into disbelief.

exhaling, you spoke, "i didn't realize.. did you need something?"

yes, he needed something.

he wouldn't say it though. opting to wait until you're needy for him.

he's greeted with disappointment when you don't give him what he wants, turning away from him.

"okay cutie, i'm quite literally going to die here." he exclaims.

you turn to face the little drama queen behind you.

groaning playfully, you ask him, "okay, what is it my love."

"kiss me," he demands, "i haven't received a single one since my arrival."

you roll your eyes, standing up and dragging your feet towards his tall figure.

tip-toeing to reach his lips, you tug his shirt to pull him down.

finally, your lips rests on his, giving his the satisfaction he craved.

SEMI strums his guitar again and again, hoping it would catch your attention.

you don't look at him, because youre busy playing with the cute puppy named bear on his bed.

you baby-talk the sweet creature, scratching behind its ears.

"y/n can you put bear down, i'm literally right here." eita sighs.

you giggle at his remark, looking back at him for a split moment.

"i know, honey, but a few minutes without my attention shouldn't kill you." you deadpan.

he only shoots you a disappointed look that you obviously didn't see.

after a few minutes, you finally get up and sit beside your grumpy boyfriend.

your entire body faces him, "babe, i want a kiss."

he side-eyes you, "okay, go kiss bear then."

furrowing your eyebrows, you just shrug before getting up once again.

you're immediately stopped by semi grabbing your wrists lightly.

"jesus woman, you were supposed to stay here and beg." he rolls his eyes.

"too bad, bear likes me more than you since you didn't wanna give me a kiss."

he blinks, clearly dumbfounded. "i've been sitting here for 30 minutes waiting for a kiss myself."

you shrug again, trying to release yourself from his hold.

"whatever, eita." you pout.

he only tugs your arm gently before you're landing flat on his chest.

he lets out a hearty laugh before lifting your chin up with his thumb and index finger.

staring into each others eyes for a few moments, he finally places his lips on yours.

you deepen the kiss, hands moving up to caress the nape of his neck.

then you push him away.

with a pout, he stares at you. "not in front of bear, honey."

you snicker as he only huffs and looks away. his hand unconsciously coming up to caress your thigh.

you both, in fact, still madeout in front of poor bear.

USHIJIMA wasn't one to ask you for affection.

moreover, it was definitely you who asked him.

but for some reason, the way you were busy chatting up his close friend, tendou, sent him over the edge.

he craved your touch more, and it's almost like he needs it to survive.

he comes up beside you, while you don't even notice his presence. thanks to tendou greeting him, you probably would've taken awhile to even acknowledge him at all.

"heyyy wakatoshi!" tendou exclaims.

your head snaps up at the mention of your boyfriend's name.

you smile warmly, "hi, love."

that was all you said before you become completely immersed in your conversation with tendou. tendou being equally immersed as you were.

ushijima hated to admit it, but he actually felt neglected.. maybe even ignored.

he doesn't know how to steal your attention, and seeing his best friend have what he wants makes him antsy. he feels nervous, fiddling around with the hem of his shirt.

he holds back the urge to wrap his arm around your waist, pull you closer to him, and just kiss you in front of everyone in the room.

he itches to have his lips on yours, but he just doesn't know how to ask.

he taps his fingers impatiently on his side, hoping that you'd turn to face him at some point.

yet, as if luck was on his side, tendou excused himself for a moment, leaving you entirely alone.

and boy did he take that chance.

he stood beside you, snaking his arms around your waist. you look up at him, being quite familiar with his touch, you leaned into him.

he leans down to whisper in your ear, "chatting up my best friend instead of being with me kind of stung, my love."

his deep husky voice had your legs feeling like jello. you motion for him to lean low enough for him to hear you whisper back.

"jealous, honey?" you smirk.

he clenches his jaw before he feels your soft lips kiss it.

he softens at the contact, melting from your touch.

he quickly maneuvers your chin to connect your lips with his.

god, he never knew how addicted he was to you. youre the only thing he'll never get enough of.

you pull away, leaving one last peck on his jaw before leading him back to his teammates.

safe to say ushijima will definitely start asking for more of your kisses.

[snowthedemonfox]

okay so i need to put my thoughts somewhere before i forget so uhhh heres a quick theory about what ep 6's adventure might be

(i could be extremely wrong though so glitch if youre seeing this and thinking about how wrong i am: i cannot wait to be proven wrong bc i am hyped for episode 6 either way)

so in the ep 4 trailer we can see this suggestions box, and based on Caine's conversation with Zooble in ep 3, i think all future adventures will be based on requests from the cast. like episode 5 being baseball themed. we saw an unfinished version of the stadium in the s1 teaser, and in ep 4 we can see Ragatha with a baseball. if ep 5 is the baseball episode, it'd make sense if she was the one who put that adventure idea in the suggestions box

so then i think we can safely assume the spudsy's adventure, even if it does seem to be rushed by Caine, might've been suggested by Gangle. why? not sure, im guessing we'll be told that in the episode itself, but if she did, then that means that yes, future adventures will be suggested by the character the episode is about

since episode 5 is the last episode that was teased in the s1 teaser, we have little to no info on episodes 6-9. i think its still a bit too early for me to guess what will happen in the final 3 episodes, but i think based on some other things we've been told i can make a safe guess about ep 6

i think it might be a dance themed episode. which, okay, hear me out, i have some more things i want to share with the class:

ONE: this would not be the first time one of Goose's "wait and see" answers would hint towards a future episode's adventure. back in september, before the s1 teaser released, someone asked her this:

which, as we know, a haunted house adventure DID happen in ep 3

(there was also this one, which if the ep 4 theories about someone being high are to be believed, then this one could also be a hint of something we didnt know about at the time. but take this with a grain of salt because ep 4 isnt out yet at the time of writing this)

TWO: "but why would Jax's episode be the dance one?? he wouldnt suggest something like that!!"

well, yes, he probably wouldnt let anyone else see him suggest something like that for an adventure, but who said you had to sign your name on the suggestions? couldnt he do it anonymously without anyone knowing who suggested it? doesn't seem like he's the kind of person to admit something like that

maybe in the episode, someone figures out it was him (maybe recognising his handwriting, since episode 4 has shown us what the cast's handwriting looks like on their spudsy's nametags), and that's what starts to cause problems. the point of the episode isn't the adventure itself, it's about Jax and his issues

THREE: this is the weakest piece of evidence here but im just thinking like, it kind of makes sense that a dance episode might feature a lot of different outfits. maybe Goose was talking about a later episode, but again, i have 0 ideas on what might be happening in those final 3, so my safest bet is that this was referring to episode 6

the only thing i DONT have an answer for, is why ep 6 would be described as "guns":

unless this post was made before the episode 7/8 split (which resulted in a total of 9 episodes), i have now idea how "guns" fits into this theory. we know thanks to the fandomcon QnA that Jax's weapon of choice would NOT be a gun, and would be revealed in canon to be something else. if Jax isn't the one with the gun, why is episode 6 described that way? i have 0 answers for this, and this one word could be the thing that destroys this already flawed theory lol

anyway uhhh post over thats my game theory i hope Jax continues to get worse <3

[hughiecampbelle]

Decomposing (Will Graham Oneshot)

Character/s: Will, Jack mention

Word Count: 1,449

Tag List: @locke-writes

A/N: My loves!!! This is the first fic of the writing event and I couldn't be happier with how it turned out!! Truthfully I had this idea even before the event lol, so I'm really glad I was able to share!! I love complicated relationships and issues within them. I had this scheduled for tomorrow, but ya gurl has no patience, so it's a day early! I would appreciate any and all feedback as this event progresses! Lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list as well!!! ❤❤❤❤

WRITING EVENT 🔪🩸

Fresh. Fresh wounds, fresh blood, fresh body, fresh relationship. Things are new. Awkward, fumbling hands unbuttoning his shirt, lifting it over his head. He does the same, your arms raised to ease the transition. A laugh, shy and blushing. In bed, between the sheets, trying to catch your breath. Was it. . . okay? A smile. Yes, of course it was. A nod, a performance of understanding. Little left to say. In the morning coffee, eggs. That’s all there is in the fridge. There’s no label, no pet names you call one another. There’s a line you refuse to cross. Bodies panting, laughing, but that’s all it is. Picking your clothes off the floor, disappearing into the shower. He heads downstairs. The dogs eager to greet him. You find him at the stove, the egg crackling in the pan. The steam of the mugs warm your face. Unsure of which seat to take. You’ve never done this before. You followed a pattern. Slipping from his bed before the sun rose. Leaving a note, something witty, without sincerity, closing the door behind you. Go home. Shower. Change. Running late. Find him in the lab with you co-workers. Bodies on slabs. What's left of them, anyways. He doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t look at any of you. Offering a quiet moment, the rest of the team filing out the door, he ways, slipping a note into your lab coat pocket. You don’t react. Your eyes averted, too busy listening to Jack to notice until the end of the day. Something sweet. You know his handwriting even without his signature. You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t smile at the thought of him. Hoping he’ll look at you, even for a second. It’s against the rules. It’s against everything. And yet. . . 

Bloat. The body swells, the gasses of the abdomen created by bacteria. The skin begins to blister. You crossed the line. An unspeakable, invisible line you step over not without hesitation. Not just sex. The last note he left you, sleeping on your desk, folded with your name on it. Will you go on a date with me? Nothing else. You hold it in your hand, reading it over and over again, wondering if it was a joke. No, you conclude, Will wouldn’t do that. Humiliate you. You wait for him in the parking lot, the note burning a hole in your pocket. You don’t know what you’re going to say until the words are already out of your mouth. Does Friday night work? He isn’t perplexed by lack of context. There are no formalities or small talk. He smiles. Says it’s great, that he’ll pick you up around seven. You don’t realize you’re grinning until you pull into the driveway. Your entire closet is thrown across your bed. What message are you trying to convey? That this is a one time thing? That it’s serious from the start? You don’t want to scare him away. You don’t want to get your hopes up. You’re not even sure you want this to turn into anything. Maybe you should have said no. come up with a lame excuse long enough to buy you some time. Let him down gently. Explain this relationship was purely sexual. It isn’t against the rules. No one can stop this date on a technicality. But there are social norms to uphold. If anyone hears about it, if anyone saw you talking, you knew you’d hear about it for a long time. Katz would be cool, kind even, rooting you on. Zeller and Price are a different story. Crude jokes most likely, then invasive questions, vulgar assumptions the both of you would try to deny. Was it really worth the risk? 

Active decay. Teeth and nails begin to fall out. Muscles and soft tissue begin to liquify, oozing from the body. He asked you to move in with him. It only made sense. Your lease was up soon and you’ve been official for nearly a year. You spent every night you could with him, too.. You don’t mind the dogs? Others would. The smell when they come in from the rain. Collecting them from the woods, the land, when he sleepwalks, the front door like a gaping mouth. Wide open. I adore them, Will. And you do. Spoiling them with toys and treats. Relief settles over his features. Bring what will fit. Clothes mostly, kitchen appliances and some furniture. He unpacks with precision. Labeling every box. Moving from room to room until your books and his and intertwined, your mugs nestled between his, your clothes folded beside his. It only takes a weekend. When it’s done there’s an air of relief. Not just practical, but a bandaid. Stitches for a wound that won’t stop bleeding. Things weren’t perfect, but what relationship was? Jack knows. You told him together. His face is hard to read, his words unemotional. Don’t let it interfere with your work. Of course, sir. Will squeezes your hand under the table. It went better than you expected. Later, when he can pull you aside, he asks what’s been on his mind. Is it serious? You’re not sure how to answer. At the time, it had only been a few months. You hoped it was. He must’ve said something to him, too. Unusually quiet. Hey, you say, it’ll be okay. He nods. It doesn’t stop the inevitable fight. Jack doesn’t think you’re good for Will. A distraction. A plaything. Do you really believe him? Hurt embedded in your voice. I don’t know. He sounds so small. Later, he will apologize. You will forgive, but not forget. 

Advanced decay. Soft tissue decomposes, leaving behind bones, hair, cartilage, ligaments, and byproducts. This is when the bugs begin to feed. You’re not on speaking terms. The team divides and conquers. Katz talks to him. She’s always liked him, checked in with him, puncturing the layers you have worked tirelessly to unfold. Price and Zeller talk to you as delicately as they are able to. Is the sex bad? It’s not worth the effort to answer. Seriously, what’s wrong? What did he do? Are we children of divorce now? You glare at them, the conversation dying. Its final breaths a bloody, gurgled gasp. You regret coming in together. The car ride home is silent. Between here and there, each of you opens your mouths, but nothing comes out. Apologies feel forced. Fake. The issues so tangled, so complicated, you are both the victim and the offender. You go to bed with a gap between you, a rift you’re not sure can be repaired. Things will get better, Katz offered quietly, as if speaking to the enemy. You thank her, though you’re not sure how it will. Time goes on. You can’t live like this and so, you cave in. your conversations are distant, polite, but nothing further. In front of others you are fine. They assume this fight – immortal, infinite – has passed. It hasn’t. He’s become sloppy. He blames you. You can’t shake that kind of thing when your lives are your careers. I don’t know if I can do this anymore. . . 

Skeletonization. The body fully liquifies and the bones are exposed. Your things are no longer contaminated. Your books, your mugs, your furniture. Placed peacefully into boxes. You sleep alone these days. It was awkward, at first. Exchanging looks, pleasantries, trying not to have an audience for a show you didn’t realize you were performing. I’m sorry to hear that, Jack states when you break the news. The team, your team, are apologetic, too. It’s over. It’s done. You want to move on. You don’t. The both of you regret a lot of things. Whose fault was it? Yours for saying yes. His for asking in the first place. Maybe it started before that. The coffee you shared, the eggs he made, the steam of the shower. Broke routine. Price and Zeller lay off you for a while. Him, too. They joke about the dead rather than the living. Give it a few weeks, they’ll be back to their usual selves. Will’s right. You smile despite yourself. It could have been good. Your relationship could have survived. At least, that’s what you tell yourself when he is funny, when he is gentle, when is humane. It was already dead, another part of you speaks up, and you know it is right. You could crack its chest and break its ribs, but there was no saving it. There was no bringing it back because there was no life in the first place. Did you love him? Hannibal asks. You did, maybe you still do, but it’s not enough. It never was.

[https-cyber-slxt]

Could you write reader being almost as tall as könig plz? We also peg the living crap out of him lol.

Yes Ma'am/Sir 🫡also sorry for the reallllllly long wait :((

This isn't proofread so domt screm ag me 🫣🫣

After Hours

Sub!König x Tall!FemDom!Reader

König was known for being a strong but shy soldier, and a bit of a hopeless romantic.

His height was a big downside, yeah women liked their men tall, but not that tall, so out of the two he managed to pull, they both left, one didn't like the way he spoke, his stutters caused her to have a headache, and the other? Well let's just say she didn't like how submissive he was.

But that's when he met you, the protector and controller of the team, you were strong, tall and hard to knock down.

But what was special about you to him was that you were never impatient with him, when he spoke, you listened, when he failed, you helped him back up, you were the only person who genuinely cared for him, so that's when he realized, that you were the Queen to his King. (I feel like that's so cringe)

3 weeks had passed by, and König's mind was racing with bad thoughts, "What if she says no?" "What if she's doing it just to be nice?" "Does she actually like me or does she act that way around everyone?" It's starting to become a serious problem, so serious in fact he's starting to just blatantly ignore you.

You've tried talking to him, but everytime you do so he walks away or acts as if you're non-existant.

Worried, you ask your mates about him.

"Hey guys, what's up with König?" You ask

"No clue, have you tried talking with him?" Rebbeca asked (I'm just gonna use random names, they can look however you want)

"I've tried, but he just keeps ignoring me, and I'm starting to get really fucking worried" You spoke with sadness.

"Maybe he's jealous" David laughed.

"Jealous of what!?" Anger in your voice.

"Definitely your height Cap, I mean, if my captain was 6'8 with that nice of an ass I'd be jealous" He smirked then winked at you.

Rebbeca gasped at him and decided she had enough of his bullshit, she pulled David by the ear out of the lunch room, apologizing to you profusely.

"I'm so sorry Captain, but I'll make sure to deal with him later, in the mean time, I hope you figure something out with König"

And now you were left by yourself... Again.

Giving up for today you head back to your dorm room and was met with a surprise.

A box, in front of your door? It was quite heavy, you shook it a bit, and heard a small jingle.

"The hell?" You thought to yourself, you also noticed a small note on top of it with messy handwriting, it read "Hello Captain, I'm sorry for ignoring you for the past few weeks, I hope these gifts will make it up for you. Love König -König :)"

You smile at the signature as you puzzle the peices together, he wanted to confess to you, but he just didn't have the gut to do so, you giggle to yourself as you bring the box into your room.

9:33 PM

You sat on the pull-up sofa, scrolling through your phone, you were bored and you've done all your paperwork, that's when an idea popped into your head, you had König number, so you decided to text him.

'Hey :)'

'Hi Captain, need something?'

'I'm bored, could you come over?'

You stare at the message, it went through, it's been read, but he hasn't responded.

5 minutes pass by, and still no response, you sigh in defeat and turn off your phone, you lay down on your sofa and start to drift to sleep.

That was until you heard a knock at your door, your eyes shoot open as you lift yourself up, you walk towards the door and open it, there stood a panting and sweating König.

You spoke, "Hey, you uh, okay?"

He nodded, hands on his knees as he catches his breath, "Do you wanna come inside?"

He nods again ducking his head under your door frame to enter your room.

You point him towards the sofa, telling him where to sit.

You ask him "uh, Tea? Coffee?" He shook his head, and you nodded in response.

You both sat in silence until like he spoke up, "Did you o-open the box I gave y-you?" "Oh no I didn't, should I open it now?"

He nodded his head, eyes averting yours, you quickly run to the room to grab the box, walking out and sitting next to him.

You open the box, and grab the first thing you felt out of it, "A-a collar? König, I don't own any pets.." He blushes at your remark. You look through the box properly and your eyes grew wide at the content it held.

You stare at him, absolutely flabbergasted, "K-König? A-are you trying to t-tell me something?"

He whines in response and hides his face behind his hands, you crouch in front of him and take his hands off his face.

He whined, "Please I-I-I-" He stuttered, you put his finger over his lips, shushing him "Don't speak"

You straddle his hips, causing him to let out a whimper, he looks up at you in desperation, you smile and lock your lips with his.

His lips quiver and mouth opens to let your tongue explore, he moans at the feeling.

You pull away, a string of saliva connecting the both of you.

You tell him to lay down on the bed as you grab the box, you grab the items that intrigued you the most, the rope, collar and strap-on.

You walk over to him, you showed him the items with a smile, he whimpers at them.

You straddle him again and clip the collar around his throat, the little bells jingle as you do so.

You then take his hands and tie them to the headboard with the rope, not too tight but not too loose.

You take off his pants and clip the strap around your hips, you insert yourself into him slowly, his whines growing more loud.

He wraps his legs around you, clenching around the strap, "Oh, sh-shit, it's so b-big, fuuuuuck"

You fully insert the strap, you grab his collar and start speeding up, he throws his head back, wrapping his legs tighter around you.

"God, pleasepleaseplease, faster, f-faster!"

His moans grew louder by the second, the jingles of the bells on his collar also making noises.

He can feel his orgasm getting closer as well, he stuttered out "Fuck, g-gonna c-cum!"

He bucks his hips as he releases, his legs shaking, you untie the rope, letting his hands free.

You pick him up and turn him around, making him lie on his stomach, you continue to thrust into him, laying down on his back, leaving kisses and marks all over his shoulder, his moans muffled from the pillow.

You pull his hair, lifting his head from the bed, "How you feelin' pretty boy?" You coo "Ah! aH! Please, FUck! Feels so good!

His hands grab your hips, digging his nails into them, leaving marks, you laugh at his actions.

You let go of his hair, dropping him into the pillow.

His whimpers and moans grew loud again, signaling his climax, he moans out "Fuuuuuck, pleaseplease, gunna cum!"

You leaned over him and whispered in his ear "Cum for me, love"

And that was enough to set him off, his legs shook even more as he came.

As he calmed down from his high, he managed to keep his shaking to a minimum.

He turned around to look at you, his face flushed, hair sticking to his forehead with drool coming out of the side of his mouth.

You smile softly at him, you bend down and give him some small kiss on the nose.

You take him off the bed and clean everything up, unfortunately you're gonna have to clean him tomorrow.

You dress him up, and lay him on the pull-out sofa, you take the strap off and join him on the sofa, drifting to sleep on his chest, listening to his soft breaths.

7:30 AM

You sat in the lunch room, drinking your coffee while scrolling through your phone.

You heard footsteps behind you, but you ignored them, until two hands land on your shoulders.

You stopped your actions and stood completely still as you felt breathing in your ear, "I heard what you did last night" The deep voice spoke to you.

You spit out your coffee as he laughed, and walked in front of you, the bulge in his pants noticeable.

"If you tell anyone, you're dead Ghost"

"Alright then, let's make a deal, whatever you did to him, you do to me tonight, yeah? I promise I won't tell anyone"

You hesitated, what about König? After some thinking you finally decided.

"Fine".

A/N: I am restless, anyway I hope you enjoyed it :))))) also got a cute lil Ghost collab >:)

[suzie-shooter]

Alex Rider season 3 unhinged liveblog ramblings scribbled during first watch. Spoilers, obvs. (also fair warning, I am not particularly a fan of Tom or Kyra lol)

Episode 1 - Widow

S2 recap trivia - Alex's therapist is Molly Doran from Slow Horses and married to Alan Blunt IRL

Malta: Ok, so we're not just going to pretend it's Venice lol.

Creepy old men already hitting on Alex. Standard.

"After this we're out of leads." How do you even have any leads in the first place? Oh ok, Smithers' phone. Terrible security protocols from him, leaving that much historical classified data on it.

"Find the Widow - surely he could have given you an address?" First thing Tom's ever said I've agreed with lmao

Aaaand within a second he's back to being deeply irritating, okay.

Yassen living rent free in Alex's head, you love to see it.

"They've got this picture of me being the responsible one." Have Tom's parents actually met him?

Ooh Razim mention.

You maybe want to clean that wound before whacking a dressing on it Alex?

"Do you think you'll ever lose your appetite Nile?" Spat my drink.

Damn, no harem pants then. Scrubs up well tho.

Listing Levin in the opening credits than having him be only a S2 flashback should be a warcrime.

Episode 2 - Lab

"This weapon is called pork sword, wait, no, shit, wrong USB."

"Julia Rothman. Definitely a wrong un." Spat my drink again.

Do Crawley and Pritchard not warrant helmets and visors? Are they somehow immune to shrapnel?

So, room 6, wired to blow, yes? It's what I'd do…

Oh yeah sure guys, they're going to still be sitting there, all unmoving in the dark, for sure that's a person, and not a Massive Trap.

Thereeeee we go. Agent mince. Top of your class huh, well you're certainly at the top now, and down the sides and partially out of the window.

I know there's the whole 'characters don't know what genre they're in' thing but you are literally in the 'working for MI6 genre', you are up against people notorious for booby traps and blowing shit up, why the fuck would you touch something that hadn't been declared safe first? Apart from anything else you're fucking up the scene before forensics get there.

"I love you man." Vom.

Alex: breaks into super sekkrit lab. Also Alex: doesn't have the faintest fucking idea what he's looking at, so not really helpful.

COMICALLY LARGE BOMB KLAXON.

Episode 3 - Enemy

"Welcome to Malagosto." OooOOooh.

Maybe I'm just looking at it from a fic writer's perspective but it does seem a massive anticlimax to immediately let Tom and Kyra know Alex is okay? Like, you could have got a good couple of episodes of angst out of that uncertainty.

"Do you want me to kill them?" Oh God yes please.

Why the fuck have they plugged the USB directly into the network rather than an isolated PC? 'Hur dur we checked it first', you literally believe Scorpia are smart enough to not be bluffing about the nebulous death threat but you don't think they could hide something on the hardware? Fuck's sake lads. Amateur hour.

Is this Home Secretary meant to be Suella Braverman? Or Priti Patel maybe lol. (Equal rights and all that, and if it had been a white male character I don't think I would have thought twice about the dialogue but having both your two new female characters be immediately proved wrong/ massively patronised/ blown up ain't hugely comfortable viewing tbh).

HOW MANY FICS INVOLVING ALEX GETTING FUCKED ON THAT BED HAVE JUST BEEN BORN?

"Are you suggesting we break into a dead man's house?" "It's not like he's going to be there." 😂

"He became a very close friend of mine." Fnar.

Omg making Alex read his father's love letters is hilarious.

Alex: you could have faked that news report Also Alex: handwriting can definitely never be faked (how is Alex even familiar with his dead father's handwriting? wouldn't recognise mine)

Ugh please stop trying to make Alex/Kyra happen.

Alex up the vent shaft. I hope they're sitting casually at the top going - you could have just taken the stairs love.

If he's climbing upwards, why is his hair dangling like he's upside down? Have they filmed this like 60's Batman, and he's just crawling along a horizontal set lol.

Alex never once asks about his mother does he. Given the shagger-John route they seem to have gone down you almost think Julia would be in a better shout of getting Alex to switch sides by claiming to be his mother.

And - yeah, Alex's recruitment just doesn't feel that convincing here. Adding Tom/Kyra/Jack so much to the mix has changed the feel of his life a lot, and TV verse Alex has had a lot less fucking over by the Department by this point too. And Rothman feels too creepy to be effectively convincing him of anything.

"I want you to meet your tutor." FUCK YES FINALLY 🙌 (may have rewound that part several times lol)

Episode 4 - Recruit

Nicaragua: 18 years ago OH MY GOD IT'S HAPPENING

Baby Yassen is adorable, I'm in love.

OH MY GOD THAT'S SO MUCH BETTER THAN THE FUCKIN SPIDER THING

OH MY GOD THE REVEAL OF HIM STANDING OVER THE SLEEPING ALEX I'M DEAD

(Ok, I'm calm again. For now. We continue.)

"You killed my uncle" - all the hundreds of ways this conversation has been written over the years and Yassen's just like lol get over it 😂 (here for it tbh)

Rothman: He's one of our best Yassen: One of? Bitch.

Yassen watching Alex train like 👀👀

"Did he ever tell you you're no fun?" Oh you want to have FUN with Yassen do you?

Yassen bitchslapping Alex to fuck, both hilarious and hot.

Oh, you want to be WET wet.

"Matteo's the guy with the blanket." Why is that so funny.

Omg Yassen stepping in to protect his boy and humiliating Nile in the process lol. And Alex doing what Yassen tells him, because of course he does 🥰

"This one is my responsibility" 🥰🥰

"What about love, friendship?" Alex has only known Yassen five minutes and is already down bad.

"Kind of lonely though, right?" Yeah, Yassen needs you at his side Alex, so step up and stop being a whiny little bitch about killing people.

Never get in the first taxi, rule one of espionage.

Yep, called it. Tom's like: I'll have my fucking tip back in that case.

This scene is so dark I have no fucking idea what's going on, I thought Nile had attacked Alex, but apparently not. Is Nile officially part of this exercise or not, it seems really unclear lol.

The power of friendship and sparklerabbits saves the day, apparently. Yawn.

Jesus, we really ATE with this ep, huh.

Episode 5 - Revenge

"Would you rather your arms around me, or my arms around you?" Way to make it creepy Tom you skeevy fuck.

"Can we focus please?" "We're multi-tasking."

Sure Grendel, rock up to the super sekkrit spy base in a massively conspicuous car why don't you?

"Yassen will give you everything you need." Oh I BET he will.

Feels sloppy them not removing the diffuser from the vent tbh.

"What does this say?" Alex hasn't inherited John's neat handwriting then lol. Alex leaning into him like that > me making noises only dogs can hear.

"You've put lockpick?" "I left my last one in Nile."

Ooh, suicide pill, nasty. Kind've pointless though, given they've been left with the evidence anyway.

Yassen in Alex's bedroom again, likely place for him to be.

"I don't want you to fail. I don't want you to die." 🥹💕🥰

Yalex roadtrip, let's goooo.

Disappointed they're not making Alex do the Entrapment infrared acrobatic sequence here lol.

If this is Yassen's idea of a date it definitely needs work.

So no surprise scorpions then? Can't have shit in Detroit Malta.

"Why? Why did she kill him?" Well taking things at face value here he was a highly murderous member of a terrorist organisation, so you know, kind've her job.

Yassen does like a casual lean, doesn't he.

Episode 6 - Target

Alex and Yassen have shacked up in London, hope there's only one bed.

Now they're in the back of a van, SO many opportunities for shagging, they're spoilt for choice.

Yassen's impressed look when Alex reels off all the security details, so proud of his boy.

"What happened to my mum?" Finally he wonders lol.

"And I'm good at it. You could be too." 🥹

"You think Alex killed him?" I mean, he was also there with a notorious assassin, so probably not, y'know.

Domestic Yassen cooking Alex's dinner and also cooking him a gun lol.

Smithers' "How I've missed you" ahahaha. Smithers/Kyra much better pairing tbh.

"He's actually quite good at this stuff." Smithers' little snort lmao

Time for Alex to be blacked up/ dunked in a teabag bath/ gussied up. Although he still looks exactly like Alex afterwards, which feels less useful lol.

"You love him, don't you?" Yassen loves him more. I have to say Alex had far more chemistry with Syl, and frankly for that matter with Tom. I really don't get the Kyra agenda.

"It's a dry hole." Alex's worst nightmare.

Is Alex going to look through Mrs Jones' knicker drawer?

Episode 7 - The Shot

Mrs Jones and her tall murderous hobbit son lol. Otto really looks about 58 here.

Hope they bill him for her fucked up fridge.

Is that Bath? Oh, it is.

Mrs Jones casually throwing Alex back into play lol. Maybe she can have a little revenge for him trying to shoot her.

"Everyone breaks into houses." Jack's face lol

Ewww put him down, you don't know where he's been (Yassen's bed, almost certainly)

"Remember they can't hurt you unless you invite them in." "That's vampires."

Yassen arguing in favour of going to rescue Alex MY HEART

"Sit down. I'm going to tell you a story. About your friend, John Rider." HOLY PLOTHOLE TIMELINE PATCHING BATMAN

"John was embedded inside Scorpia for three years." Not the only thing he was embedded in by the sounds of it.

Alex seems to be hallucinating again lol.

Yassen, maybe psychoanalysing your insane boss isn't the safest thing to be doing?

"It's quite mad Julia." Yassen really gives no shits omfg

"I know my place." Yes, at Alex's side.

I like how Julia thought telling Yassen she'd killed John would do anything other than piss him off lol.

Episode 8 - Invisible Sword

"But you do owe me a new fridge." LOLLLLLL

Crawley feeling like a spare part during this lift convo, hahaha

"Smithers, you can do me some kind of tracker, right?" "Yeah, if you promise to keep it on you this time."

Alex is like ohshit I'm gonna die fr

"Not for the agents. They undid their seatbelts." Eyyyyyyyy 👉

Aww they've given him a little baby assassin outfit, how cute.

Where's Yassen, has he just fucked off to the pub?

"For the head of Scorpia, you're a really bad liar."

Laughing at all the other Scorpia agents having to listen to this convo about their boss like we are not paid enough for this shit 😬

"Everyone else is getting what they want, let me have my cereal."

Protecting his boy to the last. Yassen really is purely on Alex's side, we love to see it.🥰

And OMG HE LIVESSSSSSSS 🙌🙌🙌🙌 (I voted yes in that poll, I had faith lol)

Well that was - far more fanservice than I dared hope for, after the meagre pickings we got in the first two series. Yalex supremacy to the motherfucking end, let's go.

[dawneternal]

Just a Favor | pt 3 | Gwynriel

✦ Sorry this one isn't as polished as the others 💛

✦ Warnings: Nesta says bad words lol

✦ Word Count: 1.1k

✦ AO3 Link

✦ Masterlist

Azriel slept far better than he would have predicted. But he woke early, just as the first hints of pink washed through the sky. And his stomach churned, fingers cold with nervousness.

He had left her there.

Somehow, in all of the whirling thoughts and emotions of last night, he had not considered how she must have felt about being left there. Now, it was all he could think about.

He found himself padding to Cassian and Nesta's room. He knew they'd likely be pissed but he couldn't stop himself. He opened the door silently, as was his habit, and stood still beside the bed, too panicked to feel any shame over his half-clothed friends.

"I left her there," He said into the silent room. Nesta's eyes opened and she flew into a sitting position with a fierce scowl. She clutched the blanket around herself. Cassian did not move but he growled loudly.

"What the fuck?" Nesta croaked.

"I kissed her and then I left and I didn't say anything," Azriel continued.

"Yes, I know," Nesta grumbled.

"So she probably hates me," Azriel buried his face in his hands.

"She doesn't hate you," Cassian mumbled against his pillow.

"But I-"

"Azriel," Nesta said, firm, "She doesn't hate you. I talked to her after you left. She's just confused. Just send her a note, okay?"

Her voice softened by the last words. Then she smiled and bit back a laugh.

"I'll be happy to talk to you when the sun is up and I'm not naked," She said.

"You're naked?" Cassian sat up, took one look at Nesta, then threw a spare pillow at Azriel. "Get out, Az!"

"Alright, alright," Azriel grumbled and dodged the pillow.

"Next time talk to Rhys," Cassian called as his brother left the room, "He has a toddler, he's always up this early."

Azriel penned a quick note and had his shadows carry it to Gwyn's nightstand.

I'm sorry I left. I hope you enjoyed your first kiss despite my strange behavior. I'll explain when I can.

What the shadows did not report was that Gwyn was already awake, writing in her journal by fae-light. Her eyes opened wide at the sight of the shadows twirling around each other, carrying a little paper between them. They hovered near her, waiting for her to take it.

"Thank you," She whispered, plucking the note from their hold. They disappeared into nothing, and Gwyn wondered if they had gone back to the shadowsinger or if they had stayed to watch her and report back to him.

Either way, she opened the note, reading the careful handwriting several times. A smile bloomed on her face, accompanied by a soft blush. She could not help the leap of her heart, the wild hope that started to grow there.

So he did have something to tell her.

"You're probably wondering what this is about," Azriel said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

The three sisters exchanged looks between them before turning toward the solemn shadowsinger. Each bit back a smile.

"Go on, Az," Feyre said softly. Azriel took a deep breath before speaking again.

"I have a mate," He announced, shrinking into his shoulders as he said it.

Nesta smiled, a genuine grin that revealed her dimples and bubbled over with joy. Feyre squealed and clasped her hands together. Elain smiled, tilting her head to the side and crying out, "Oh, Az!"

Azriel grinned at the floor, blush creeping over his cheeks. The same blush that insisted on returning every few minutes for the last 24 hours.

"Who is it?" Feyre whispered, as if the culprit could be listening. Nesta and Elain leaned in, eyes gleaming.

"Gwyneth," He said savoring the name on his tongue.

"Oh thank Gods," Nesta put a hand on her chest, "If you had said another name I don't know what I would have done."

"What?" Azriel furrowed his brows. He noted that none of them looked very surprised.

"Nothing," Nesta waved him away, "Keep going. What do you need us for?"

Feyre and Elain hummed in agreement.

"Well, since you're all mated, I thought I would ask for advice. About how to tell her," He said, wringing his hands, "I guess I have the upper hand in that way. Rhysand was all on his own."

Feyre smiled, blushing at the memory of her temper and poor Rhysand trying to win back her favor.

"It may not have been ideal," She laughed, "But it's a memory we laugh at, now. I don't really think you can mess this up, Azriel."

"That's what I'd thought about Rhysand," Az chuckled.

"What about Lucien, Elain? How did he do?" Feyre asked.

From the way Elain's face turned deep red and she began to stutter, it was clear that Lucien must have done alright. At one point, that may have made Azriel jealous. But right now, he just wanted to know how Lucien had done it.

"I think she'll just be happy to know," Nesta said softly, thinking of the hope in Gwyn's eyes the night before.

"What if...." Azriel trailed off, too shy to name any of the worries cycling through his head. This whole thing had driven him to be more expressive than usual but it was still a struggle.

"You've been good friends for a long time, now," Elain pointed out, "I don't know her like Nesta and Feyre, but I still think there's a very good chance she'll return your feelings."

Azriel gazed up at her. The longing in his eyes was painful to look at.

"Listen," Feyre said, reaching out to take hold of his hand, "Just take her somewhere pretty and tell her the truth. Nothing fancy, nothing wild, just you and her and the truth."

Azriel repeated the words as a whisper, mind whirling with ideas.

The ladies stayed a while longer, helping him brainstorm and congratulating him a few more times. And offering some advice about what he should wear.

When their meeting was over, he found himself reaching the front gate at the same time as Elain. She paused and looked up at him, her eyes alight. She looked lovely, hair loose and little flower earrings dangling from her ears. Azriel thought of the time so long ago when they had been in a similar position. Then, she had been a rosebud. Something closed off. Now she was a blooming rose, thriving and overflowing with beauty and contentment.

"I'm happy for you," She said, smiling up at him.

"I'm happy for you, too," Azriel said sincerely, "You glow, now."

"I found my sunshine," Elain's eyes glittered, "And I think you did, too."

[vioartemis]

I'll die with you (part 4)

(Tara Carpenter x fem! reader)

Summary: After Chad's death, you decided you had to do something. With Mindy and your mom's help, you come up with a plan to trapped Ghostface. Little do you know that the price to pay will be high... Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 Warnings: blood, death of character (I swear this time it's for the plot, don't kill me it hurts me too), angst a/n: I drew a little plan so you can see the location (even for I needed it at one point so...) hope you can read my handwriting lol (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

"We're safe now, right?" Lexi asked, breaking the silence

You didn't know how much you slept that night, but certainly not enough to talk about that right after waking up.

No one answered her question, only sharing a knowing look.

"With him we're never safe. Trust me, I know"

"But Damian's in jail!"

"Chances are there is more than one killer"

"Okay then, we just have to hide until the other one gets caught" Lexi shrugged her shoulders

"It's useless, he always finds us"

"... Maybe we could use it against him" everyone turned to look at you "We lure him, and we lock him up"

"It's risky, very risky" your mom warned

"It is, but it could work. We just need a bait..."

"And how do we decide who will be the bait? I don't want to be the bait" Lexi complained

"If we figure out Ghostface's next victim... we have our bait" Tara intervened

You all stayed silent a moment, trying to think of the next victim.

"... Do you really think he wanted to kill me that night? I mean- okay he stabbed be and everything, but if he really wanted to kill me, he just had to slit my throat, right? So why didn't he did that, to be 100% sure I would die?"

More silence. You took it as a sign to continue.

"What if... what if he had something against me - like Amber and Richie with Sam - and wanted to hurt me before killing me?"

"Why do you make it all about yourself? Chad doesn't have anything to do with you"

"We're friends since forever, he's very dear to me"

"Okay but what if you're wrong and it has nothing to do with you? And you surviving the attack was just pure luck? 'A painful death' isn't a term you usually use when you don't want to kill someone"

"Maybe he wants to make us believe that to muddy the waters. I don't know okay, I'm trying to figure out why this is happening"

"Yeah well, I your theory's wrong we could all die"

"At least I'm trying, me. You're not helpful at all, just being rude like that."

Tara placed a hand on your thigh to calm you down and kissed you.

"It's okay baby, she's not worth it, I know you're doing your best" she whispered against your lips

"To be honest, whatever we do, we have a chance to die" Gale started "I have an idea for the where. The how, however..."

She tried to explain what the inside of the building looked like, but none of you really understood so she drew a quick sketch of it. It was way easier to understand that way.

"Now as I said before, how we can trap him is another story"

"I think I know"

It was the first time Mindy spoke since you woke up. She looked determined to do everything in her power to avenger her brother.

"Give me a paper, I'll show you"

Your mom obeyed and gave the girl paper and a pencil. She started to draw, and a few minutes after, showed you her plan:

"Let me explain in details" she said, seeing your confused faces "So the doted lines are the retractable glass windows / walls. According to Gale we have to buttons here, and one here. Those two activate this wall, and this one activates the two others. Did I lost anyone?"

You all shook your heads. For now, it was pretty clear.

"Okay, good. Now this is the first floor, right? I think you said at the ground floor there was other glass walls? Okay we'll see that later, but that's where Sam, Lexi and I are gonna stay"

"Wait, I want to be with Tara too" Sam protested

"We can't have too many people at the same floor. Don't worry, Y/n will be there to protect her." Mindy turned back to her plan "So, Y/n and Tara are the bait, they're going to try to lure him at the first floor, so Gale will be able to trap him with the glass walls and separate him from the girls. The other wall is the safe escape."

She gave more details after that. It was a good plan, much better than anything you could've think of.

"Any questions? No? Great"

"Anyone wants a coffee before we put our life in danger?" Lexi sighed

You all nodded. A coffee wouldn't hurt after all.

"Okay, I'm gonna get them, I'll be right back"

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

Now that you were there, you weren't so sure it was a good idea after all. What if it went wrong? What if Tara was hurt? You glanced over to your girlfriend. She seemed as nervous as you were.

"That's a bad idea, maybe we should-"

You were interrupted by your phone ringing in your pocket. You took it, hands shaking.

Probably: Damian Walker.

You looked at Tara and nodded, the signal for her to text the others to get ready. You picked up hesitantly.

"Hello?"

"Y/n, Y/n... It's a shame I didn't get you last time, really. For you I mean. If I had killed you... you wouldn't have had to watch her die before your eyes."

"O-oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

He hung up, leaving you even more nervous. Suddenly, a tall figure appeared. As expected he was here. Watching you from the other end of the corridor.

You back up slightly, taking Tara's hand to tell her it was going to be okay. Ghostface didn't move, he was just watching you, analyzing the building.

"We're here! Come and get us if you can, asshole!" you provoked him to make him follow you

He tilted his head to the side before taking a knife out of a pocket in his costume. And then he threw it in your direction, cutting your arm. You hissed in pain, putting your other hand on the wound.

He took a step forward then another one, faster, and in less than a second he was rushing towards you.

You started running, Tara by your side. She opened the stairwell's door and started climbing up the stairs, making sure Ghostface was still following you.

You kicked opened the door to the second floor and ran to the glass wall behind which your mother was, ready to push the button.

"Where is he?" she asked, voice muffled by the wall

"What?"

Out of breath, you turned around to look behind you. He was not here. When did he stop following you?

"Shit shit shit..." you mumbled, panicked, blood running down your arm

All of a sudden, Tara screamed.

"Gale!"

You turned around at the same time as your mother and felt your heart drop immediately. He was here. On the wrong side of the wall.

Your first reflex was to rush to the button to open the glass window. You pressed it, but nothing happened. You tried again, panic rising. Still nothing.

On the other side, Gale tried to press the button as well. It was not working. Ghostface tilted his head to the side. You knew he was smiling under his mask.

Tara tried to press the button too, but it was useless. You ran to the stairwell's door. Going back down and to the other side of the floor was the only available option now.

You tried to push it, but it didn't move. Not even an inch. Someone blocked it from outside.

"No no no no no... come on please..."

You kicked the door, threw yourself at it, in vain. Tara was fighting with the button desperately as Gale was fighting Ghostface with almost as much despair.

You took your phone and called Sam, covering your screen with blood. You started talking as soon as she picked up, voice shaking.

"Sam he's with my mom! We're stuck on the other side! You have to help her or she's gonna- she's gonna-"

"Fuck." you could hear her run with the others "We're here in a second" loud noises, as if they were hitting something "Y/n t-the door is locked... we can't- we can't-"

"Try to open it!"

You ran back to the glass window and hit the button, but it still wasn't working. You couldn't do anything.

You couldn't do anything while your mom was fighting for her life on the other side of this stupid wall. From where you were, you could see the stairwell's door shaking. The others were trying hard to open it.

You watched in horror as Ghostface stabbed Gale in the leg, in the stomach, in the arm. She was fighting back as strongly as she could, but she was no match.

You were desperately trying to make the button work, even if you knew it wouldn't.

He threw her to the ground, but she kicked him off her and stood up with difficulty, going in your direction. She didn't see him behind her. She couldn't do anything when he grabbed her by the shoulders and sunk his knife in her chest.

She tried to fight his grip, but she weakened with every passing second.

You had abandoned the button and were now hitting the glass window in hope to break it, screaming her name, but only managed to stain it with your blood.

He looked at you in the eye, challenging you, before taking the knife out of your mom's chest and dragging it to her throat.

"No..." you backed away from the window, tears in your eyes "Please don't..."

He nodded slowly. Yes. I'm gonna do it. And you can't save her.

She knew. She knew she was going to die. You could see it in her eyes.

"I love you, I'm sorry" she mouthed to you

You watched, helpless, as he pressed the knife against the flesh of her throat, slicing it opened. Your heart shattered.

The scream that left your throat as you fell on your knees was heart wrenching.

[Previous part] || [Next part]

[who1ssheesh]

Xanxus brainrot

Note: I couldn’t even come up with a plot, I just wanted fluffy Xanxus. Hope you enjoy as much as I did writing this

Warnings: OOC Xanxus, nor proofread, English’s not my native language (ouch)

• Accidentally getting a promotion. Getting them way too often and being endorsed way too much. Going home and seeing Xanxus silent, which by the way is weird because usually this menace would have already said how dumb this is and your job is fucking dumb and you are du-

• Actually about “subtle”. No, he’s indeed not. But he thinks he is. And it’s funny that everyone in Varia thinks they are subtle, but you are the observant one. First several bouquets you got were flawless - especially calligraphic cursive handwriting (which now reminds you of Lussuria way too much). And then one time Xanxus fucked up so much, you got flowers with half of petals fucking burnt and the pressure is handwriting on the note so high it was almost ripped.

This dumbass got you flowers personally and still refuses to admit this.

• It’s funny how obvious he can be with small things. Usually he would call you dumb fucking ass and those flowers are dumb and the argument was dumb and you are du- but he stays silent. Xanxus doesn’t stay silence with the most sour face in the world. Xanxus shoots people, throws things around and shouts. He doesn’t stay silent and dart his eyes around the room.

Squalo has been shot several times after noticing this, but he thinks that was worth it cause that’s the funniest face his boss has ever had.

• That’s sad in fact. Xanxus thinks that’s…shameful. He’s bad in relationships. He’s bad with words, he’s bad with people. He’s been bad his whole life, in fact.

Just…just give him a smile, you know. You don’t even have to say anything, he’ll know it’s okay.

If you ever save one of those withered flowers - exactly the one he’s burned with his flame (and it smells like ashes to this day) or that angry written note with pen almost ripping paper, Xanxus will stop just for a moment - so quick, you won’t notice. He has always thought his heart to be frozen, but this time as if he heard a little crack. You manage to lose the most expensive jewelries he gets you, but you save that bullshit like your life depends on it, huh?

He tells you to throw this garbage away. You don’t.

• Xanxus finds you hilarious with your attitude though. The “she comes out in a dress so pretty and expensive, he falls in love even deeper” doesn’t happen. You walk out in a suit and your button shirt opened enough to see you boobs (which is dangerous around this horndog) and then you ask him to visit that pub near cause mafia black-tie events appear to be way too boring. You have probably fucked before running away to that pub

• Fun fact, Xanxus loves playing pool. A lot. No problem if you can’t, he’ll just stare at your ass to distract himself from your shameful attempts.

• Oh boy, will he appreciate you taking interest in his hobbies. Instant cupid arrow through his heart when you ask him to teach you how to shoot just like him.

• Kinda a curse and kinda on you - from now on Xanxus devour your life from you until you learn how to shoot GOOD. And he had high standards. At some point you will hate guns with passion

• He won’t be interested in any of your hobbies in return lol your loss deal with it. But if you are serious about something, he’ll gladly throw money in you he loves throwing things

• GOD WILL SAVE YOU if you accidentally appear to have a flame. Especially strong one (sky??? Even worse if it’s like Xanxus sky+smth??). Because he will devour the whole life from you to make you cool. He will show off you everywhere and everywhere. “Hey you see that one? This thing is mine btw”, so at least he will be proud….

• No romance in this relationship, your conversations sound like “Bitch I swear I’ll kill your family”, “NOT IF I KILL YOUR FIRST”

• Don’t get me wrong but…he thinks about children? Once in a blue moon. At those moments standing at the balcony at 4 am not even drunk thinking about wild shit. Would his life be ok if he never met Nono? That stuff.

• He wonders if his child gonna have your eyes, just like he has his mothers and thinks about it every time he looks in the mirror.

• Xanxus mostly thinks about it in a mocking way - he wants to be that cool badass dad everyone gonna be jealous of. He will teach his son (of course he wants a son) how to shoot his gun, he will laugh the first time this little shit comes home drunk.

• Xanxus has seen a lot. Also he has seen someone’s family being killed. Xanxus is not honest even with himself but he honest with one thing - it will break him. And it will break you first of all

• What if he himself dies? That’s a better option, sure (don’t get me wrong, he wants to die in a badass gunfight), but won’t his life repeat again in his son? He knows there will be people to watch after you both, even you yourself are badass enough (that’s why he dates you), but he doesn’t trust anyone with your life.

So no kids. But sometimes a man can dream, huh?

• My man is not jealous contrary to famous opinion. He likes to see anyone try to even approach you, unironically will find that hilarious. He is a bad influence and encourages you to act like a child - throw a tantrum, throw a drink at a poor fool, tell him you already belong to the bestest hottest man, and he will laugh out loud

• Wear his clothes. He will throw you out the window if you mention, but he starts buying too much clothing that he doesn’t wear. As if he does it for someone else, huh?

• You can hate varia members with passion but they without a joke are going to treat you with respect. You have THE character to keep in touch with their boss, that’s already a sign

• You’re so far gone you’ve probably once was so mad with Xanxus you tried to shoot him with his own gun. Probably ended with a sex marathon. Not that your tiny figure gonna be a threat to this big bear but hey, at least that’s hot

• Xanxus probably has a sweet tooth to this day. His mother could never afford candies, and Xanxus - being even a grown adult - sometimes acts as if he wants all the chocolate of the world.

He will shoot anyone who sees him devouring chocolates. You usually say it’s you when someone notices a pile of wrappers

• I’m talking from a big experience now: childhood in poverty is a trauma for Xanxus to this day and he tends to spend money on dumb impulsive shit. Please don’t encourage him, he’s already insufferable and Squalo has enough of a headache with his boss spending all the money. You appearing didn’t help actually

• One day you just gotta say your man that you don’t need expensive gifts or don’t like flowers, otherwise all the flowers of the world would go extinct. Like varia budget

• That’s his love language, he can’t show appreciation otherwise, don’t blame him?

Though with time he starts warming up to quality time together. He really enjoys your time at a shooting range, especially if you stars gossiping about Varia. At some point he even gonna start commenting your points. Hells, he even likes you just silently sitting in his office while he works

• A chair or a couch in his office, and everyone knows that’s where you’re usually are. Bonus point if there is your stuff all around

• Xanxus is a pig actually and makes a mess 24/7 (thank god he has maids) and it doesn’t bother him, but he will turn into a whiny baby if he ever stumbles in one of your things. Will burn it or throw out a window and have zero guilt about it.

• Has never had a nickname, so will be confused af the first time you call him Xus. Did you insult him? No? YES????

• Likes when you call him nicknames in public, has zero shame. Yes, he has a cool partner, losers. But like….badass ones, he has an image to uphold

• you wearing his feathers you wearing his feathers you wearing his feathers……….

•Xanxus has actually…never had a home. He can buy dozens of the biggest mansions a man can imagine, but that still isn’t home. Living with Nono was hell on Earth in his eyes and his mother he just doesn’t remember anymore after all those years. So the first time he hears your “Ugh, can we go home now?”, he looks at you with the most disgusted face he can make. You think you’ve done something wrong - you don’t see him till late night, when he comes utterly drunk (which means just a little more drunk than usual). But he just flops on a bed to you. “Shut up and go to sleep”. You obviously never get to actual conversation about this but everyone can notice Xanxus hurries back to you (he thinks he’s so subtle about it but this brute is not subtle about anything). He wants to go home.

• Maybe even seeing you around Varia headquarters at some point where you became comfortable around his guardians made something click in him.

Everything is its place. You’ve been the missing part of the puzzle

• It will take long years until someone notices how much their boss changed. Even throw an occasional smile.

• My man has never experienced love JUST LOVE HIM

[aceartistactivist]

Okay here we go!

Things I would have changed/am confused about in tua season 4

- first of all, it needed 10 episodes. Not 6. Don't even need to change the storylines- just flesh it out. Add random filler stuff. Not one of the characters got a real character arc because they didn't have enough screen time to show it!!

- speaking of, Jean and Gene got way too much screen time. Like I don't care about them I want to see the actual main characters

- no mention of Sloane????? Nothing???? What about the other sparrows? Do they exist in this timeline?

- how were they still riding in that van after puking so much in it lol 😭

- wtf is up with the only mention of Ray being a throwaway line that he walked out on Allison??? Seriously wtf??

- also, if Lila's parents are alive and living with her & Diego... Uhhh... are they not gonna address the fact that Five killed her parents in the last timeline? Like with all the scenes they had together I felt like that should have come up... I guess maybe that was something they already got past sometime in the 6 years?

- I'm so confused about Abigail. I'm just so confused. What is up with her

- STILL NO EXPLANATION FOR THE WHOLE ALIEN THING??

- also five's weird arc in s3 where he gets the tattoo? I'm still so confused about that. What was the purpose of the tattoo? Why was that whole thing a thing? I'm just lost 😭 and the "restaurant at the end of the world" scene in s4 was not exactly helpful or forthcoming either

- not a fan of how Ben's original death was just Reginald shooting him. Also the whole "reverse element of the marigold" thing seemed like a random idea turned plot device that just could have been planned/set up better. I also didn't understand the whole Jennifer thing. Why did she have the element thing in her anyway? Why was she in that container? I need explanations please

- IS REGINALD EVIL OR NOT HELP HE KEEPS GOING BACK AND FORTH

- Just so many things that could have been fleshed out

- where did the notebook five found that was "in his own handwriting" even come from? What version of himself figured out the subway system and wrote the cipher?? So many questions

- speaking of, what IS the subway system. Where did it come from. Why- just- why. I'm so confused about how it even affects the plot at all (except for the very end with the kids & family members)

- five and lila were supposedly lost in time for 6 years but they didn't change at all?? I get that actors are not going to be able to visibly age 6 years in a week but really, they couldn't have tried to make it look more believable? Changed their hair, added makeup and stuff? And then when they got back and they looked exactly the same as when they'd left and certainly didn't act like they'd spent 6 years lost in time? Like you'd think something like that would be extremely noticeable lol... I was expecting the others to be like oh my god what happened to you? And then it was just on we go business as usual. Like they could have done a lot more to make that feel realistic/believable I think

- oh, the ending... I get it, but I also think they should have gotten the lives they have "in most timelines" in the commission handbook thing, iykyk (basically if they'd all just grown up normally without the umbrella academy or anything)

- but... If Lila's family and Claire were taken to a restored timeline where the 43 children & umbrella academy never existed, wouldn't that create the same paradox that was the EXACT SAME THING that was the whole premise of season 3?? Remember the kugelblitz??? By YOUR OWN universe rules, sending those people to the restored timeline where they never existed created a kugelblitz that destroyed the real timeline and the universe for good. Congratulations.

- I was also hoping for an explanation of why their powers were slightly different but I guess it's just a plot device that doesn't really matter

- all in all, honestly, I really liked it! And I'm sad that pretty much the majority of the fandom doesn't. It could have been a lot better just by fleshing it out and giving the characters enough screentime for actual character arcs but. You know what. It's good enough for me. I'm satisfied

[ccasey0]

uhhhh @sharkfinn i put you in HBT.

i think you might be one of my favorite characters. i hope it's okay that i used your oc, i can take this down if you want me to. i did send you an ask about it, but it was never answered so i just went ahead and finished this. i hope you can read my handwriting, i know it sucks lol. uhm.....anyways that's all i have for now. byeeee.