#i really love this little speech from him

[jungwnies]

INVITING YOUR F1 BOYFRIEND TO YOUR FAMILY THANKSGIVING

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : genre : fluff ୨ৎ : tws : light kissing, nothing heavy ୨ৎ : word count : 1862

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this one is for all my US babies who are celebrating thanksgiving today!!

ʚ・max verstappen

it was a week before thanksgiving and you got in your bed to see an already tired max laying down, as you get underneath the covers you lay against him and look at him, "baby."

he gives you a hum and look sat you, "yes?"

"i know you guys don't celebrate this holiday, but i really want you to come to the family dinner on thanksgiving, and i know you have practice on the 29th, so i could ask them to move the dinner a little early so you can come." you tell him, softly.

"you know i've never celebrated thanksgiving before?" he laughs before turning a bit to see your face, "if it’s important to you, i’ll be there. just don’t let me mess up your traditions, okay."

you laugh, "all it consists of is a turkey and some yams, but i mainly want you to come because my family will be there, and you know how much they love you."

“so, is this where you make me eat turkey until i can’t move? or are we going to do one of those cheesy gratitude speeches?” max teases, putting a smile on your face.

you shake your head, laughing softly. "maybe a little of both. but mostly, i just want you there with me."

max's teasing grin softens, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. "then i’m there. but i’m warning you now, if your uncle challenges me to some weird american football game, i’m going all in."

"oh, he will," you reply with a smirk, snuggling closer to him. "but i think you’ll be just fine. my mom already says you’re part of the family."

he wraps his arm around you, pulling you even closer. "good. because i don’t plan on going anywhere."

with that, you drift off to sleep in his arms, excitement bubbling in your chest for the holiday—and for having max by your side.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you stand by the kitchen counter, watching lewis chop vegetables with surprising focus. “babe,” you say softly, leaning against the counter.

he glances up with a warm smile. “what’s up, love?”

you hesitate, toying with the edge of your sweater. “i was thinking... thanksgiving is next week, and it’s really important to me. i’d love for you to come to dinner with my family.”

he sets the knife down, giving you his full attention. “thanksgiving, huh? i’ve never done one of those before. what’s it like?”

“it’s mostly just food," you begin, thinking off all the components of a thanksgiving dinner, "turkey, stuffing, pie... oh, and my family asking you too many questions,” you laugh nervously. “but it’d mean a lot if you came. i know you’re busy, though, so no pressure.”

lewis steps closer, resting his hands lightly on your waist. “if it’s important to you, i’ll make time. i’d love to be with your family and see what this whole thanksgiving thing is about.”

you smile, relief washing over you. “really? even if it means answering endless questions about racing?”

he laughs, pulling you into a hug. “as long as they have some good food, i think i’ll survive.”

you snuggle into his chest, grinning. “trust me, my grandma’s sweet potato pie will make it worth it.”

he kisses the top of your head. “then i’m sold. just promise you’ll stick by me if someone starts grilling me about my cars.”

“deal, but i can't stop my dad from scolding you for speeding in your mercedes” you say, your heart full as you imagine lewis sitting at the dinner table, effortlessly charming your family.

ʚ・carlos sainz

you find carlos sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through his phone while lazily petting your dog, a sight that makes your heart squeeze. you sit down next to him, tucking your legs under you.

"carlos," you say softly, nudging him with your knee.

he looks up with a small smile, his brown eyes warm. "qué pasa, cariño?" (what’s up, love?)

"so... thanksgiving is next week," you start, playing with the hem of your sweatshirt. "and i was wondering if you’d come to dinner with my family."

he tilts his head, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s holding back a grin. "thanksgiving? the one with the turkey and... what do you call it? the cranberry... jelly?"

you laugh, shaking your head. "yeah, that one. but it’s not just about the food. it’s more like... being with family and saying what you’re thankful for. i know it’s not a spanish thing, but it’d mean a lot if you came."

he sets his phone down, fully turning to you. "sabes que soy terrible con estas cosas sentimentales, ¿verdad?" (you know i’m terrible at these sentimental things, right?) "i’ll probably say something dumb like ‘i’m thankful for ferrari.’"

"my dad would probably high-five you for that," you tease, leaning closer.

he chuckles, his hand sliding to your knee. "si tu padre está de acuerdo, ¿cómo puedo decir que no?" (if your dad’s on board, how can i say no?) "but only if you promise to save me from saying something embarrassing."

"deal," you say with a grin. "but you should know... my mom is going to love you. she’s been asking about you non-stop."

"ay dios," (oh god) he groans, leaning back dramatically. "what do i even say to impress an american family."

"just be yourself," you reply, resting your head on his shoulder. "trust me, you’ll charm her in five seconds flat."

he presses a kiss to the top of your head, a playful smile on his lips. "fine, but only if i bring some jamón ibérico, your family has to try real food."

you laugh, already picturing him at the table.

ʚ・charles leclerc

you find charles lounging on the couch, leo curled up at his feet. you sit beside him, nudging him gently.

"love," you say, a little shy.

he looks up with a smile. “quoi, mon amour?” (what, my love?)

you bite your lip, feeling nervous. "so... thanksgiving’s next week, and i know it’s not a thing in monaco, but i was wondering... would you come to dinner with my family? they’d really love to have you."

charles tilts his head, a playful glint in his eyes. “thanksgiving? with the turkey and... pumpkin pie?” he laughs softly, his accent making the words sound so sweet.

you nod. "yeah, that’s the one. it’s all about family, and it’d mean a lot to me if you came."

he sets his phone down, his smile softening. “mon amour, if it’s important to you, i’ll be there. i wouldn't miss it.” his voice is warm, sincere.

you grin, leaning in a little closer. "you sure you’re ready for my family’s chaos?"

he laughs, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “i think i can survive turkey... and maybe even your mom’s pumpkin pie." he pauses, his smile turning a bit mischievous. “but don’t be surprised if i say something cheesy in front of your family, like... ‘i’m thankful for the beautiful woman beside me.’”

your heart skips, and you chuckle. "oh, charles, you're going to melt my mom’s heart."

he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "as long as i don’t have to speak perfect english, i’m good," he teases, making your heart swell.

you smile up at him. “you’ll charm them with that accent, i’m sure.”

“maybe i’ll speak more french just to make it worse for you,” he laughs, his hand gently squeezing yours.

you lean against him, feeling warm and happy. “they’re going to love you, charles.”

“as long as i get to be with you, mon amour,” he whispers, pulling you close.

ʚ・lando norris

you catch up with lando in the paddock, after a long day of practice. the energy is buzzing around you, and you decide to ask him something you've been thinking about all day.

"hey, babe," you say, trying to sound casual.

he glances at you with a grin. “what’s up, love? you look like you’re about to ask me for a big favor.”

you take a breath, then ask, "so, thanksgiving’s next week, and i know it’s not really your thing... but would you maybe want to come to my family’s dinner? it’d mean a lot to me."

lando raises an eyebrow. “thanksgiving? where you eat a ton of food and pretend you’re thankful for it? sounds like a lot of work.” he laughs, teasing. “you sure you want me there?”

you laugh, shaking your head. “it’s more than just food. it’s about family. i’d really love for you to be there.”

he looks at you for a moment, then smirks. “well, as long as there’s no awkward speech about what i’m thankful for, i’m in.”

“no speeches, i promise," you say, nudging him. "just food and a bit of small talk, and family games"

"perfect," he says, grinning. “i’m really looking forward to explaining how fast i go, and how many awkward questions i’ll get.”

“they’ll love you,” you assure him.

“as long as i’m not talking about racing the whole time,” he says with a wink. “deal?”

you smile, relieved. “deal.”

"good," he replies. "just don’t expect me to wear anything fancy. i’m more of a jeans and hoodie kind of guy.”

"that's fine, i prefer seeing you in something casual anyways." you tell him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

ʚ・oscar piastri

you find oscar lounging on your couch, casually scrolling through his phone. you sit next to him, feeling a bit nervous but determined.

"hey, oscar," you say, breaking the silence.

he looks up with a grin. “what’s up, love? you look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

you take a breath and ask, “so, thanksgiving’s coming up, and i know it’s not really your thing, but... would you want to come to my family’s dinner? it’d really mean a lot to me.”

oscar raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk spreading across his face. “thanksgiving? so i get to eat a ridiculous amount of food, pretend i’m thankful for it, and survive your family’s questions? sounds like a good time.”

you chuckle. “yeah, that’s about the gist of it. but honestly, i really want you there. my family’s gonna love you.”

he leans back, pretending to think for a second. “alright, alright, i’m in. but only because you’re asking so sweetly. just don’t expect me to behave too much. and, for the record, i’ll definitely be expecting enough food to make up for all the small talk.”

you laugh. “no complaints about the food, i promise. but if you start making jokes about the turkey, i’ll disown you.”

“mate, making jokes about turkey is basically my job,” he grins. “but alright, i’ll be good. as long as i don’t have to wear a suit or anything fancy.”

“you’re safe,” you reassure him. “just dress nice enough to not scare anyone off.”

he leans in closer with a wink. “deal. let’s see if i can survive a night of turkey and awkward family banter without causing too much chaos.” he smirks. “should be fun.”

you smile, feeling a wave of warmth. “i’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[digriv]

This is my favorite part of this 8 part comic btw.

— The fact that Xisuma calls Docm Doc

— The way that, as the stress amps up and Doc gets damaged, his voice gets fucked up too. It's all scratchy and distorted and I love how Shep shows that

— The fact that Doc loses his arm and just. Can't move for a bit. In fact, he's so filled with [android version of pain] and stress and a little confusion and fear, that he freezes up, his mind sorta having to catch up.

— The fact that Etho's a man on a mission (kill grian), so he's just trying to maim them so he can get out. He rips Doc's arm most of the way, then shoves him and it really keeps him down (for like, 15 seconds, though it also impairs him in the following fight. Very clever attack.)

— The fact that Xisuma's frozen, too. Xisuma can't move, you see how he freezes up in part 2, when Etho pulls out the back-of-the-neck port? How he stills, shock and fear and disbelief so, so present in the lines that sit above him.

— How Shep illustrates thirium!! I love it!! How Etho's left eye is just bleeding profusely and the fact that, when Doc gets damaged, thirium drips on his speech, and fills the air around him, and manages to distort his hearing, all very visual to us (and probably him, just not in a literal visual sense).

I reread this (soon to be) 8 part comic all the time, just to experience all the secondhand emotion again. Just to get to this part and the last— how Etho's determination turns into fear, and that turns into terror, and how his efforts are in vain and he's killed and Doc feels that.

Doc might've won the battle but he DEFINITELY did not lose the war, nor does he feel like he's won. Because, in a way, Doc fucking dies in that moment because he was in the cockpit as Etho died. He was both the aggressor and the victim as Etho died, and that's traumatizing. Not to mention his arm being ripped off and Xisuma nearly getting badly hurt.

Cause, in a way, Doc can stop worrying about his own damage and himself. As long as he doesn't implode from stress, X can repair him. But even a slight bonk on the head can leave X with irreparable brain damage, and Etho was slamming steel against X's helmet and it broke within a few swings. If Doc checks his fact database, steel + biological creatures (especially + blunt force trauma) does NOT turn out well.

Anyways that's why I love this comic so much. When the fic is posted, idc if it's 2AM ,, I'm readng it lol :]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [PART 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Don’t Let it Reach the Heart]

Finally! Part 3 is here!! yippee!!! As a refresher, this takes place at the beginning of season 9, when Doc and Xisuma try to boot Etho back up after he shuts down pre-Season 8 Finale, set to the vibes of Joywave’s Destruction from DBHC Etho’s playlist! Ouguguh I’ve been looking forward to posting this part so much; it has some of my favorite shots so far… something about the grey-fade of Doc going into shock, something about the last two pages with xisuma and doc’s expressions… idk!! i really loved working on these :] Hope you’re enjoying the horrific, horrific ride!! =w=

As a partially insignificant but Special-To-Me note: Xisuma has always referred to dbhc doc as “Docm”— this is actually the first time X ever calls him “Doc.”

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

Please do a jayvik x reader where reader is their assistant and constantly glances at the both or them while they're working and either Viktor or jayce catches her in the act

YES OF COURSE! I think this idea is so good!

A/N: This is a little bit suggestive but very minor. Mostly just jayvik teasing reader.

---

You've been assisting Jayce and Viktor for many months now. You've learnt many things about them, like how jayce enjoys a cup of milk late at night and when viktor is tired he'll hum to himself. You've brought them Drinks and food and helped them out with their blueprints and stacks of paper. You were their doting and loyal assistant always happy to lend a hand.

But you thought you were subtle in your actions, how you always snuck glances at jayce when he was flexing his tanned muscles while hammering something, or how you always gazed perhaps too long on viktor's nimble fingers working on small cogs.

Late one night in the lab as you sorted through a stack of diagrams as per viktor's request, You snuck a small glance at the two males at the desk working and conversing. Jayce's arms sat flexed and heavy against the table, his white button-up shirt rolled up his arms. Beside him, viktor was giving much darker vibes, his lips are close together in a line and he's got a slight arch in his brow. His red tie is loose and his sweater vest is undone by one button.

Safe to say you were pretty entranced by them.

Both are illuminated by a dim Amber light coming from the evening sky outside, and it only adds to their beauty.

"Is there something on my face?" Jayce knocks you out of your trance, his face decorated with a boyish smirk.

You scoffed and looked away. "You're really funny talis," you said sarcastically, your eyes rolling back in the process.

"I think you're pretty funny too." Two large hands sat on your desk.

You looked up to see Jayce. His dark eyes are boring holes into you as his square jaw clenches slightly. You see and feel something in his gaze that makes you feel on fire.

"I think it's funny that you think we don't see how you look at us"

Jayce's face grins when he sees the beet red tint blanket your face, your jaw hangs low as the two of them begin to laugh.

"I didn't mean to make you both uncomfortable I jus-"

"You're scaring her, jayce. Relax, love, it's okay. " viktor held up his bony hand with a small smile. "Were not interrogating you, ignore him"

You took a deep breath and stood up to find a new pencil. You could feel the two scientists' eyes still on you. One like honey one like midnight, but both equally as enthralling.

"If I've done something wrong, please tell me"

"You haven't done anything wrong, love. Why didn't you mention you had a crush on us? Were not that scary, are we?" Jayce finishes his sentence with a deep chuckle.

"No, of course not, but your both-", you fixed your glasses. ",well your both quite attractive and a bit out of my league, so I just decided to stay quiet,"

Both jayce and viktor stepped closer to you, the two of them putting a hand on either shoulder for some kind of comfort. You first looked at viktors honey golden eyes. They were gentle and encircled by dark tint.

"You weren't very quiet with your eyes movements, dear. Infact I'm surprised you didn't notice either of us also looking at you, we've caught you staring many times"

"What?" Your mouth fell agape.

Jayce laughed. "Of course we noticed. You were staring when viktor was fixing his tie earlier last night before we left for the meeting"

Viktor interrupted. "And at that very same meeting, I caught you drooling over jayce when he was giving his speech"

By now, you were bright red and hiding behind your hands. You could've died right then and there of pure embarrassment. You couldn't believe that your secret endeavours of glancing upon your superiors had finally been noticed.

"Oh my gosh I had no idea!" You exclaimed.

Trying to help with your blushing but failing deeply, and really only making it worse, jayce put his hand in yours. It was rough and calloused and warm and felt like home. You were at home with them and you hoped that they would be understanding about this all.

"How would you like to upgrade from assistant to partner? It's a full-time position,"

Viktor grinned and ran his free hand through his hair, the other holding his cane.

"Are you... serious?" You looked at the both of them. Eyes darting back and forth.

They both nodded eagerly. "You've been deeply loyal and loving to us for many months now, and you've become more to us than just an assistant," jayce spoke as he held your hand tightly.

Quickly, almost embarrassingly so, you said yes. Viktor planted soft kisses to your cheek.

"Come with us dear"

[giorno-plays-piano]

Safe Haven

Pairing: Mr. Crawling x reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence and gore (only a few mentions), pure fluff, Mr. Crawling being a cutie pie.

Words: 1k

Summary: Despite the horrors you saw in the other dimension, bringing one of them home actually seems like a good idea.

P.S. To all of you who love soft!yanderes, I recommend playing Homichiper IMMEDIATELY

_________

"I'm home. "

You turn the lock on the door, smiling from ear to ear when you hear hurried steps paired with a "clack" of a cane. Goodness, he's getting faster with every day, you think as you watch a walking giant wrapped into a fuzzy white bathrobe emerge from the corridor. His impossibly long hair is loose and a little damp, and for a second, it feels he came straight from a horror movie. It makes you laugh.

"Dear!"

He almost runs into you, his cane clicking aggressively against the floor, and you giggle like a schoolgirl on her first date. His embrace feels so warm, his gentle hands rubbing your back as he kisses the top of your head.

Everything about him feels like home.

"I cooked a potato soup," he breathes out, excited to share his little news, "and baked a meat pie! And then I read a book. And then me take bath..."

He gets a little red when he realizes his old speech patterns are getting back, but you're quick to divert his attention, dropping a kiss to his nose. Poor man gets even redder and kisses you, too, immediately helping you take off your coat and giggling with embarrassment. He's one weird gentleman but a gentleman, nonetheless.

"I'm glad you had a good day," you wink at him, picking up your grocery bag. Today, you bought his favorite tea, and you know how excited he will get to brew it himself.

When you escape a hollow, depraved world, even the simplest of things will make you weep. Once you have returned to your apartment, barely alive and scared to your wits' end, making a cup of tea felt like a miracle. It's hard to imagine how bizarre the whole concept seemed to poor Mr. Crawling, who probably ate nothing but human or monster remains for as long as he was there.

You no longer speak of what happened in the monster realm. Needless to say, it took some time to come to terms with your little adventure and its outcome being a giant skinny monster now inhabiting your apartment. Not that you were all that bothered with the latter... Especially when you realized Mr. Crawling was not, in fact, a monster.

When you think of it now, it seems kinda stupid on your part. You were turning into one of those creatures yourself the longer you stayed there, and yet, somehow, it didn't click your lovely monster partner was human once. That he, too, had been a lonely soul who got stuck in that hellish limbo and had to transform to survive.

It was a huge surprise when he actually started speaking human language after of couple of days at your place. You first thought you misheard him.

Of course, it took him a long time to remember what it's like to be human: you've spent months gently nudging him in that direction, talking to him like to a child, showing him books and cartoons, turning on music and doing pretty much anything to help him turn back into his older self. Mind you, you also had to keep working to sustain the both of you, given you had no other income, and do the chores because Mr Crawling was absolutely clueless what to do. He was more of an in-house cat than a person at the time.

Still, it felt liberating when your monster partner finally started regaining his human memories and habits. You probably won't ever forget when he crawled to you, reaching out shyly to squeeze your hands in his, and mumbled, "M-me think... me think me called Gabriel..."

"Enough salt?" He nudges you gently, and you blink, coming back to your senses. His meat pie is so good it's really not the time to be reminiscing of the past.

You cover his large pale hand with yours as you smile, "It's perfect."

Embarrassed, he nods, looking into his own plate as you take another bite, wondering how lucky you got. Who else could have not only left another dimension filled with unspeakable horrors but also dragged the cutest of them with you?

Fed up with you stalling, he bends over to you and drops a kiss to your nose once more, letting out a high-pitched giggle. His black hair close around you like a curtain: you didn't have the heart to tell him to cut it. Now that he has become almost completely human, you somehow miss his monster appearance.

"I love you," you say all of a sudden, unable to keep it to yourself. Enveloping him in a hug, you press your face into his chest, listening to the subtle beating of his heart he had lost once. His bathrobe feels fuzzy and warm on your skin.

He says nothing at all, but in a second, he gently lifts you up from the kitchen chair only to put you down on his lap: despite turning human, he still remains ridiculously tall and strong. Not that you complain, melting in his embrace as he rubs his nose against your temple, his tender hand on your back. Against all odds, there's nothing you dislike about him. Even putting aside all his heroic acts to protect you in the other world, he seems like a pure, gentle soul who would always prioritize your safety and comfort above all else. You can't understand why he chose to help you the moment he saw you, but you don't feel like it's important. All these months, your only mission was to give him home, to pay him back for everything he's done for your sake.

Yet, somehow, it feels like both of you found home in each other.

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Chamaemelum Nobile

Summary: The admiration of the whole Holy Roman Empire be damned if Caracalla couldn’t gain his brother's attention he so desperately craved.

Pairing: Caracalla x Geta

Word Count: ~ 2.4k

Content Warnings: The Finest Smut In The Roman Empire 18!+, Incest :), Syphilis :), Jealousy, Emotional Constipation, Angst…Lots Of It!, Drinking, Oral, Petplay-ish

A/N: If antis try and harass me into stopping I actually just double down on the nasty 🤝🏻

Tagging: @blueberrypancakesworld @queer-crusader @crimsonkingart @somepallings

I'm unclean, a libertine

And every time you vent your spleen

I seem to lose the power of speech

You′re slipping slowly from my reach

You grow me like an evergreen

You′ve never seen the lonely me at all

- Without You, I’m Nothing By Placebo

Saturnalia - the final lavish and pompous feast before the cold winds of a swiftly approaching winter would carry a sense of quiet with them. The entire city was bursting at its very seams with the hedonistic ecstasy of the holy Roman trinity: gambling, drinking and fucking. All of it highly endorsed by the twin emperors Publius Septimius Geta and Marcus Aurelius Severus Antoninus Augustus, more commonly known as Caracalla.

The latter one, however, wasn't really in much of a festive spirit…

“What is it with the long face, brother?”, Geta came walking up to Caracalla, the rhythm of his steps a joyful sway; hips swinging in somewhat inebriated glee, “Don't you enjoy the feast?”

Right as he stopped in his tracks, elbows leaning against the solid stone railing of the balcony, Caracalla turned his pale face to his brother, the expression washing over his features clearly none of pleasure and happiness.

“You don't even like me anymore.” The verbal outburst was sudden and harsh, unbridled anger oozing from between reddish flushed lips underneath smeared and smudged white paint.

“Now why would you say that?” Geta raised his heavy golden chalice to free it from the last little puddle of wine whilst he exchanged glances with Caracalla.

“You talk to them all the time, never me.”, The juvenile accusations rolled over Caracalla's tongue rapidly, “You don't come to me anymore, you don't play with me anymore, you don't even celebrate with me. It's all them, them them.”

Them meaning everybody but him, the senators, the concubines - hells, the goddamn dogs even.

“I've been busy.”, Geta's reply was a calculated attempt at calming his brother, this wasn't the first childish tantrum and it surely wouldn't be the last, “You know that as well as I do, brother.”

Geta splayed his palm on his brother's toga-clad shoulder, trying to soothe the bubbling anger whilst not directly touching him; as of late he just couldn't get himself to do it anymore, the hammering disgust too heavy in his guts and thoughts plagued by what he had seen in the baths.

However, he was well aware that it had blatantly slipped how he'd been avoiding his brother. Every day, Geta fought with the guilt of slowly stepping away from his brother, yet, he couldn’t help or stop himself from doing so.

“Do you not love me anymore?” I do, I promise I do but you disgust me - the words prodded at the very tip of Geta's tongue but remained unspoken, in no world could he do that to his dearly beloved.

“Don't say such things. Don't even dare think them.” Everything within pulled at him to cave and welcome Caracalla into a much overdue embrace but he couldn’t do it, he wasn't drunk enough for his mind to be able to banish the memories of ulcers and flushed rashes all across his brother's body.

He wished to be able to somehow help him but there was no help for this demonic disease slowly eating away at the only person he truly cared for and for what it mattered, in this moment, the thrashing guilt constricting Geta's chest swallowed him whole, tore him down into the abyss of failing his brother like that. He had to do something - anything about it.

“Can you do me a favour?”, Caracalla's attention was on Geta immediately, “Find me when it's quiet, will you?”

A feeble gleam of curious excitement flickered behind Caracalla's eyes as he agreed with a swift nod.

Geta exhaled, crisis averted long enough for him to numb himself down with obscene amounts of alcohol to be ready to do what needed to be done to appease his brother.

The emperor slumped down onto his throne in a movement devoid of any decorum, the weight of exhaustion and alcohol pulling at him simultaneously. It wouldn’t be long until the sun would start to rise again but for now the celebrations had slowed down as the entire city eventually capitulated to a heavily intoxicated stupor.

Geta's moment of shallow peace wasn't granted long - his brother followed suit almost as if he could sniff him out just about anywhere in the palace.

A little less influenced Caracalla slipped past the doorway, ever the little weasel to sneak amongst the shadows, unseen when he wanted to.

“Brother!” He quipped, the excitement in his voice echoing from dimly illuminated stone walls right at Geta who cradled his heavy head in the curve of his palm.

“Quiet!” Geta shushed, not in true admonishment but to tease, the wine easily loosening his tongue.

His twin broke into a giggle, eyes bloodshot and glazed over with a watery sheen and Geta couldn’t quite tell if his brother had been crying or if it was the wine working his face like that whilst he watched Caracalla stop right before the few flat steps leading to the twin thrones overlooking the Empire.

A dull pang of pain shot through Geta's chest seeing how his brother practically beamed and vibrated right in front of him. However, the emotion got swallowed deliciously quick by the numbness graced upon him by the crude amounts of tasty red flowing through his bloodstream.

“Can I come and play?” Caracalla asked, voice lowered but heavy with need regardless.

“You may.” The two words hadn't even left Geta's lips properly as his brother dropped to his knees with a devilish grin adorning his whitened features, ready to crawl up the steps on all fours.

The picture playing out before him on the stairs tugged at Geta's lips just as well, a smirk growing with each step Caracalla climbed until he'd nearly reached him, until - Geta raised his foot, the thin sole of his sandals firmly against his brother's shoulder to halt his movements.

“You jealous thing.” It slipped right past his lips, thick like molasses and with nothing but adoration in his voice.

If Geta was honest with himself he had to admit that he loved his brother being riddled with burning jealousy at the slightest turn of heads that wasn’t directed towards him. He thrived on it unlike anything else because he never, not one single day, had to doubt his brother's undying love and loyalty.

They needed each other the way fire needs oxygen to burn and without just withered away, pathetically flickering in a dance of death until the flame died out.

“Rabid little mutt.” The snide comment was angled with perfect precision and cut right through the cowering Caracalla, imminently triggered arousal fighting against infested flesh as he throbbed underneath his red and gold embroidered toga.

“Just for you.” Caracalla wrapped his fingers around Geta's ankle, shifting his feet from collarbone over his shoulder, the worn leather of his nearly knee-high sandals gliding along right next to his face as he set forth, working himself up the stairs until he kneeled between Geta’s legs, paint-smeared cheek pressed against the inside of his thigh; the faint scents of gentle chamomile and fiery cinnamon wafting off his brother’s robe.

As of late, this little play had turned a bit one-sided but Caracalla didn't mind for as long as he could still touch and feel Geta beneath his fingers and against his lips. He could take care of himself later and for now, he was happy enough to be allowed to paw and nip at his brother, coaxing little noises out of him as he grazed his teeth along the receptive skin of his thigh, teasing but never biting. His mouth inching ever further, bouts of accumulated body heat warm against his face as soft fabric bunched against his forehead and tousled his ginger hair.

He knew Geta wouldn’t try to stand up and get away just now, however, Caracalla still wrapped his entire arm around his twin’s upper thigh, smooth skin over taught and thick muscle against his chest as he pulled Geta closer, dragging him to slip deeper into the curve of the throne until Caracalla’s nose dipped right into tufts of coppery, curly pubes. Above, Geta groaned out, his voice coarse with the pleasure he finally allowed to break free whilst there was no one else around, no prying eyes and no malevolent mouths to feed the ever-hungry mills of gossip. Not that both of them genuinely cared; in doubt, heads would roll until the rumours on the streets had died down to hushed whispers behind shielding palms again.

Geta let his head loll back, the golden sickle of intricately welded laurel leaves gliding off the crown of his head and reaching the marble floor with a metallic clink, yet, neither of them bothered; Geta already too far gone in the throes of intimacy he’d denied himself for far too long whilst his brother wouldn’t dare to inch away just the slightest, lips grazing over unharmed skin as he inhaled deeply through his nose.

He was getting dizzier with every next nip and kiss he pressed to his brother's pale complexion, his lips following the dip of his groin until the full pulsing girth of Geta’s cock leaned against the side of his face, the soft and swollen tip dripping precum onto Caracalla’s cheek.

Both of them enjoyed an entire harem full of concubines and prostitutes, men and women, alike, multiple times a day if either demanded so and yet no amount of offered body parts could replace the wretched bond the twins shared with one another; once nourished in the same womb they now stilled their never ceasing hunger on each other.

“Please.”, Geta fought not to flinch and quiver as Caracalla ran his tongue along the undersides of his aching cock, the prodding tip of it teasing along the prominently protruding vein until his mouth just hovered above, not yet sinking down, thick ropes of pinkish, wine-tinted saliva slopping onto it, “Please, brother!”

Geta felt his eyes awash with a thin veil of tears, the wetness pooling at his lower lashline and pricking at his tear ducts harshly. He fought to keep it in, to swallow his shallow pride and simply not care, to much rather grab his brother by the scruff of his delicate neck and shove his hot mouth down onto his aching cock.

Geta the emperor - Geta the coward, not even able to get over himself, inebriated to a point like Bacchus would approve of. Too cowardly and too afraid to contract whatever had befallen his brother. Too spineless to go down the same dark path and follow Caracalla the way he'd sworn to him countless times.

The choked back breath hitched in the back of his throat before it burst free from his mouth as Caracalla acknowledged his brother’s quiet begging and lowered his head agonizingly slow, letting Geta’s heavy cock slide past his open lips and over his tongue until it nearly made him gag, the sensation of sensitive muscles contracting sent a wash of goosebumps all across Geta’s lower abdomen. It eventually coaxed him enough for his hand to shoot down and let his fingers take a fistful of Caracalla’s vibrant hair, pulling and shoving at his face with force but not violent enough to tear at his scalp or hurt him.

Caracalla let out a slightly gargled groan of pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut as his brother took the lead, guiding his head up and down his length in swift movements. He liked being of use. Even more so as of late as the people around him had started staying away; servants, the senate but most of all his brother and even though Caracalla was a man of almost child-like emotional outbursts at times - he sure wasn’t stupid. He knew from the way they looked at him, stared him down whenever he entered the room, that he had become nothing more to them than the ulcers spreading across his body. Whatever malady this was that had beset him, they were more afraid of it than his notoriously unsteady hand on the reigns of this empire and it compromised him, to say the least. Reduced him enough for him to whine and pout for his brother's attention, something that once used to come flowing in rivers all by itself.

Caracalla dug his nails into the supple flesh of Geta’s thigh, hard enough to leave red dents, as his twin increased the pace whilst rhythmically rutting his lap against hollowed cheeks; lewd and wet squelching sounds filling the night air as Geta fucked his face with an increasing sense of reckless abandon. He felt him getting closer with each heavy thrust, Geta’s cock twitching against the back of his throat until he shoved Caracalla’s head further down until his chin pressed against spasming balls. He inhaled sharply through flaring nostrils as thick, white ribbons of cum pooled down his throat. Caracalla had no other choice than to swallow all of it, feeling the sticky warmth gushing into his stomach before his brother freed him from the tight clasp and he pulled back.

With a head full of dishevelled hair, Caracalla looked up, chest heaving and falling in deep breaths, meeting his brother's gaze that oozed a sense of uneasy bewilderment. Something had shifted between the two men, something of great substance, and Caracalla didn’t dare to even utter the question, for he knew he couldn’t handle the answer.

[brazilianwhovian]

Oh god, this will be so fun, so, let's go!

1. Yes, i watch DW since I'm (+ or -) 8 years old

2. Well, i wasn't born in 2005

3. Smith and Jones

4. I haven't any of the officials, but i had a paper Dalek in the past

5. The Doctor and a Cyberman

6. Wheeping Angels (Childhood trauma)

7. All of the double entendre jokes

8. The 12th Doctor seasons (i didn't like when i had watched for the first time)

9. Local television channel, lol

10. I never watched SJA when i was a child, :(

11. My first Doctor is the 10th

12. My two favorites are the 2nd and the 11th

13. I like all of them :)

14. The Old 11th Doctor receiving the new regeneration cycle scene

15. I like the well-written Doctor-Lite episodes (I hate Love & Monsters)

16. Oh, great question! Um, maybe the 14th(?)

17. Oh boy, i can't choose between Day of the Doctor and The Five Doctors

18. 12th's Regeneration speech

19. Workin at Pete's World Torchwood or UNIT, i think?

20. Wait, platonic or romantic? If it is romantic, 9th and Rose. If it is platonic, Donna and 10th/14th or 2nd and Jamie

21. I can't choose between Jamie, Donna, Romana (both), Jo, Sarah Jane, Steven, Ian and Barbara (someone help me)

22. Secondary companion? Like, Jack, Mickey and Adam? Of course is Lee from The TV Movie!

23. Tourlough. No doubts

24. 2nd, Jamie & Zoe or 1st, Ian, Barbara & Susan/Vicki or 11th, Amy, Rory & River

25. Martha Jones

26. Clara Oswald

27. Donna's family

28. That boy from The Awakening or Linda from Bad Wolf/The Parting of the Ways

29. Romana and the 4th Doctor (They really traveled with a son and a dog, the 1981 nuclear family lol)

30. Harry Sullivan

31. How can i choose one?

32. Sleep No More (ugh)

33. Love & Monsters, half of the Series 7, Sleep no More, half of the Series 11 and Orphan 55

34. I can't choose one

35. Historical

36. Partners in Crime

37. The Angels Take Manhattan

38. The entire Series 4

39. The 10th Doctor starting to regenerate in The Stolen Earth

40. A Christmas Carol

41. Both

42. Series 4

43. Series 11

44. Entire series? No one.

45. The Eleventh Hour, The Impossible Astronaut/Day of the Moon or The Halloween Apocalypse

46. The Stolen Earth/Journey's End

47. Series 1, Series 4 or Series 5

48. Jodie deserves better episodes.

49. All of it :)

50. In New Who, Christopher Eccleston, in Classic Who, Colin Baker (also Paul McGann)

51. Delgado's Master

52. I can't choose

53. The rocks from The Stones of Blood, the water from Waters of Mars and what the hell are that thing in Midnight

54. Sontarans, ironically

55. The main villain of Rosa, that little piece of trash

56. The Ogrons and the Dominators

57. If they were threatening or charismatic

58. Cybermen

59. The Daleks' Master Plan or Genesis of the Daleks

60. Maestro

61. SJA

62. Gwen

63. Ianto

64. None of them (yet)

65. Luke or Maria

66. I me refuse to choose one of them

67. Sorry Rani, but i prefer Maria

68. Sometimes, when i find one of them and i have time

69. At this moment, Engines of War

70. Yes

71. I don't have a favorite

72. I am the Doctor or The Shepherd's Boy

73. 11th's Series 5-7A

74. It didn't, but has a charm.

75. The 3rd Doctor. Do i need to say more?

76. I really like the Classic Cybermen design

77. RTD, Phillip Hinchcliffe and Verity Lambert (does they count?)

78. Moffat, Robert Holmes, Terrance Dicks and Douglas Adams

79. The '80s (Tom Baker 2nd/Peter Davison/Colin Baker First opening) and Series 4 opening

80. Of course yes!

81. Somewhere in the past

82. I can't choose one single planet

83. 1st, 2nd, 5th, 11th or 14th

84. Ian and Barbara, Steven, Jamie and Zoe or Donna

85. Well, they are not "monsters", but the Peladonians

86. Why I will travel to my past, if i can see the whole universe?

87. Literally all. I will ask him so much until he orders me to shut up

88. Arthur Conan Doyle

89. If is the 1st, he accidentally kidnapps me, if is the 5th, he adopts me.

90. For my first travel, i would like to go to the recent past (maybe the '50s?)

91. My country colonization period

92. Something in the humans are the villains, not the victims

93. Sil.

94. Um... Susan's parents.

95. Wow, this is a question that i don't have a answer

96. Same as the above

97. Depends of the writer

98. Bill Potts

99. The whole Timeless Child plot

100. My dear, i have ideias for seasons! One day i will write a fanfic with original Doctor and companions (I don't promise when)

DOCTOR WHO UNIVERSE QUESTION GAME

I spent way too long on this for it to flop but here we go!! Send me question numbers and I’ll try to answer!! (If this flops then I’m just going to answer all the questions instead)

CHILDHOOD

1. Did you like DW as a child?

2. Your age at the time of the revival?

3. First DW episode you ever saw?

4. Did you have any of the toys?

5. Which DW character did you play on the playground?

6. Monster(s) that scared you most as a child?

7. Joke/story you didn’t get as a kid?

8. DW opinion that has changed since you were a kid?

9. Who introduced you to DW?

10. Did you like Sarah Jane Adventures as a child?

DOCTOR

11. Who is your Doctor?

12. Your favourite Doctor?

13. Least favourite Doctor?

14. Best regeneration?

15. Do you like “Doctor-Lite” episodes?

16. Who is the most human Doctor?

17. Best multi-Doctor story?

18. Best Doctor monologue?

19, What do you think TenToo/MetaCrisis Doctor is doing now?

20. Best Doctor/companion pairing?

COMPANIONS

21. Favourite companion?

22. Favourite secondary companion?

23. Least favourite companion?

24. Best TARDIS Team?

25. Most underrated companion?

26. Most overrated companion?

27. Favourite companion’s family?

28. Who should have been a companion but wasn’t?

29. Favourite (canon or non-canon) DW universe relationship?

30. Who did you not used to like, but really like now?

EPISODES

31. Favourite episode ever?

32. Least favourite episode?

33. Which episodes do you skip?

34. Best two-parter?

35. Historical, present day or futuristic episodes?

36. Episode that will always make you smile?

37. Episode that will always make you cry?

38. Best run of episodes?

39. Best cliffhanger?

40. Favourite Christmas special?

SERIES

41. Classic Who or New Who?

42. Favourite series?

43. Least favourite series?

44. Which series do you skip?

45. Favourite series opening?

46. Favourite series finale?

47. Best series arc?

48. Thoughts on series 11/12?

49. How much of Classic Who have you seen?

50. Who should have had another series?

MONSTERS

51. Favourite monster/villain?

52. Most creative monster?

53. Monster(s) that scares you most?

54. Monster you think is too easy to defeat?

55. Least favourite monster/villain?

56. Monster you want to return?

57. In your opinion, what makes a monster good?

58. Daleks, Cybermen or Weeping Angels?

59. Best Dalek story?

60. Best one time villain/monster?

ADDITIONAL MATERIAL

61. Torchwood or Sarah Jane Adventures?

62. Favourite Torchwood Team member?

63. Which Torchwood death made you saddest?

64. Do you rewatch COE or MD?

65. Favourite SJA Team member?

66. Mr Smith or K-9?

67. Maria or Rani?

68. Do you read the comics/novels or listen to Big Finish?

69. If you do, your favourite additional stories?

70. Do you like DW analysis (video essays, fan theories, etc)?

DESIGN/PRODUCTION

71. Favourite piece of alien tech?

72. Favourite piece of Murray Gold music?

73. Favourite TARDIS design?

74. Has the 2005 era CGI aged well?

75. Favourite Doctor outfit?

76. Monster with the best design?

77. Best show runner?

78. Best writer?

79. Best opening titles?

80. Will DW age well/stay popular in the future?

IF YOU WERE IN THE SHOW

81. Time period you’d want to go with the Doctor?

82. Planet/place you’d want to go with the Doctor?

83. Doctor you’d most like to travel with?

84. Companion you’d most like to travel with?

85. Monster you’d like to defeat/fight?

86. If you could go back on your own history (like Father’s Day), where would you go?

87. If you could ask the Doctor anything, what would you ask?

88. Historical figure you’d like to meet?

89. How do you think you’d meet the Doctor?

90. Would you travel forwards or backwards in time first?

IF YOU MADE THE SHOW

91. Historical event would you like to see in DW?

92. Issue you’d like to see addressed in DW?

93. Who would you completely erase from the DW universe?

94. One unanswered DW question you’d love to know the answer to?

95. Actor/actress you’d like to see play the Doctor?

96. Actor/actress you’d like to see play a companion?

97. Is DW “too political”?

98. Which characters fate would you changed?

99. What about DW could be improved?

100. If you could write an episode of DW, any ideas for what you’d do?

So yeh, please ask question!!!

[lilacc-the-cat]

Gonta Headcanons because I love him

He's autistic and stims by rocking, shaking his hands, and making animal noise (yes I'm projecting).

When overwhelmed, he becomes nonverbal and uses a weighted blanket for comfort.

He's hypersensitive to textures and undresses when overstimulated (this was inspired by rorberryz on insta, don't think they have a tumblr).

Pansexual king

Since he was raised in the forest and can talk to animals I imagine he can of make animal sound like purring, growls, hisses, etc.

He has a sensitive sense of smell.

I know in canon he was raised by reptile people not wolves but I think it's funny if he was raised by both.

Since he's gets stung by bugs a lot and probably use to eat raw meat and wild plants, he has a strong immune system.

Hates bananas because he doesn't like being compared to Tarzan.

Likes to chew on things and has a chewing fidget.

His human parents constantly berate him for not being "normal" they only keep him for thier imagine.

His has two older brothers and a little sister. His brothers either mock him or pretend he doesn't exist and while he's not close with his sister they get along well enough.

He's half British and as a slight accent but it's hard to notice (don't ask why I made this one I guess I just like British Gonta).

While he normally speaks in third person, at etymology meetings or rich people parties his human family forces him to go to he speaks in first. He hates it.

His speech pattern a mix between his Japanese and English versions, where aside from talking in third person he talks pretty normally, but when having trouble finding right phases or words (which happens a lot) he sounds more like his english version. And then when talking about bugs he sounds like Shakespeare.

Has a high tolerance for spicy food, like if he ate a ghost pepper he'd be like,"Hm, kinda spicy".

Also has a high tolerance for pain (you'd need to if you're dealing with wasp and mosquitoes all the time).

Has fangs but you won't notice unless he's smiling or baring his teeth.

Has a really good singing voice.

Self conscious about it but he likes to walk on all fours (look up quadrobics it's like that).

Has scars on his body from living in the forest.

Can make really detailed drawings of bugs and plants but can't draw anything else.

Nicknames all of his friends after bugs. Like he'll call Kaito Lunar (like lunar moths) or Kaede Cricket.

He doesn't have a favorite bug but really likes beetles.

And that's my yap session for today :3

[tracklessreason]

do you have any specific hive prime scenes/ideas you think about over and over or like a personal favorite aspect of his design?? i love everything about him he makes me want to lose it /pos

Omg, yes!!

I love his height and his wings and his little antenna, I just love him overall, but those are my favorites!

His height because I'm constantly imagining him running into door frames, accidentally stepping on bots, having trouble controlling his new strength. Poor baby is almost ten times his original size, he has no clue how to exist while being this big.

His wings because they're the only way anyone can really tell how he's feeling at first, and they're also just cute!! Some bot makes a funny joke, and the whole room vibrates with his wings buzzing. He's got three pairs, the sound is loud. When he's upset they just sort of lay flat and twitch. They're long too, so sometimes he trips on them. He's damn near given some of the smaller mechs a spark attack by almost falling on them.

His antenna because they're cute!!! With his battle mask always on, you can only tell he's paying attention to you because his antenna will sort of angle towards you when you talk. When he's surprised, they stick straight up, and sometimes he just wiggles them when he's bored. I love him so much dude....

Specific scenes is a different story though. I imagine the first time he meets Megatron in person is very intense. Megatron was the one who ripped out Bumblebee's voice box in this au, as a ploy against Optimus, and Hive still hasn't forgotten that. Megatron meanwhile is half crazed knowing that Optimus is dead, and he's determined to speak with him through this new Mouthpiece of the Primes. And when Megs finds out it was Starscream who killed him??Oh how his optics burn blood red...

On a happier note, once Hive cobbles together his audio database and crafts a new voice for himself, he's much happier. A lot of mechs are getting a feel for his personality for the first time. It's rather uplifting to hear him able to express genuine emotion in his own words, although his voice, this thundering hum layered together from the speech of every autobot, takes some getting used to!

[uhhhitsme]

24, 29 and 32 Curt?

-24- best memory

i think he would tell himself its the berlin mission in 1956. i haven't nailed down any of the details for what went on DURING the mission exactly, but it would entail owen doing something crazy stupid for curt, and the two of them emerging victorious and covered in blood and more in love than ever. it solidified to him the idea that together, they're unstoppable, and eased some of curt's anxiety about whether or not the ocean of feelings curt has for owen is matched.

but really, it was something from earlier in their relationship---june of 1954. owen had gotten himself decently hurt on a mission---not serious enough that curt was afraid for him, but serious enough that it couldn't be ignored. curt insisted on patching owen up, and unlike every other time curt has had to take care of him, owen let him do it without a fight. and there was this moment where curt looked up from his work, halfway through a passionate speech about why it was essential that he keep a bottle of whiskey and a bag of chips in his medkit, and caught owen looking at him with eyes full of light. and for a moment, he was overwhelmed with the knowledge that owen had trusted him with this. trusted curt to take care of him. let curt see him at his most vulnerable.

after, when they went to bed. owen kissed him in the gentle, comforting way that he typically reserved for when curt was hurt, or when thought curt was too out of it to notice. curt read him to sleep, and then stayed up for hours---heart bursting with an emotion so indescribable, so impossible it made his head spin. the kind of feeling you get falling.

-29- quirks and personal habits

curt paces a LOT. not just when he's stressed---literally whenever he feels too much about anything, happy or frustrated or thinking about owen. when he can't pace, he bounces his leg or clasps his hands together so tight you can see the tension running through his arms.

during the winter, he gets dry lips, and he never can stop himself from picking them. he refuses to use lip balm (partially because of toxic masculinity and partially because he hates how it feels).

he has really poor volume control and often doesn't realise when he's being too loud (which made stealth training hell for him when he first started out.) he also gets really really loud when he's excited/afraid.

he sings to himself to get earworms out of his head. depending on the song, it either drives owen bananas or is ridiculously endearing

he listens to a lot of radio, even if he doesn't particularly enjoy it.

he hates quiet, and avoids his apartment like the plague

he hasnt changed the hair product he uses since he was recommended it by a girlfriend in high school

-32- toxic traits

massive inferiority complex that results in him doing very inadvisable things for the sake of trying to prove his own worth

very easily jealous---falls under the whole inferiority complex thing a little, but he can get really bitter when he sees others praised, especially in areas he takes pride in (like spying)

he's constantly trying to present this sort of hypermasculine effortless suave persona, and as a result, can be a dismissive asshole when he thinks he's letting too much of his emotion show

on that note, he doesn't handle vulnerability well. like At All. which, tbf, neither does owen

oftentimes abrasive and just a little bit self-centered, sometimes gets way too caught up in his own shit to pay attention to others needs (although he tries really, really hard with owen)

i feel like theres a word for this, but that thing where you do things without fully conceptualizing the potential consequences of an action until they're staring you in the face. its gotten him into way too much trouble

has a very black and white worldview and........doesn't fully see a lot of his enemies as human, or feel empathy for them. he's very stubborn about what's right and wrong

HE'S LITERALLY A SPY FOR THE US GOVERNMENT WHAT ELSE DO I NEED TO SAY

mind you these are the biggest things off the top of my head. there's probably more. love this terrible freak <3

[waynes-multiverse]

I was soooooooo excited for this! *breathes in sharply* Okay let's get started 🍿😎👏

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.”

I love their friendship so much 😂 And kudos to Dory. It takes a lot to agree to this. It could potentially get very awkward 😝

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

God, I know. This is honestly what I think about the most when I watch Tracker. The whole story line is insane and intriguing and... 😅 I have a thousand questions, and there's so much you could do with it in fics. I love it (clearly) 😂🤍

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

I do think Russell knows a lot more about their past than he lets on. Also, he was way too chipper for someone who was accused of patricide by his own brother for twenty years. The dynamic between the brothers is just... interesting 👀

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

Right... 😆

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said. 

Oh, she's going full Reagan! 😂 I sense some trouble coming from the brother, though...

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Well, I hope he already picked out his casket... 🙈💀

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

I'd be a puddle before I even made it to the damn seat 🫠

And they are literally so cute together! I'm full on swooning over here 😍

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

Ah, yes, the family business. Love that sublte hint 😆 Would be a good name for a brewery, tho 👍

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

I like that you emphasized the darker parts of his life. Like I said, I don't buy his whole "I'm happy and funny and quirky" act. There's a lot more stirring beneath the charming surface 😅 (Another thing he has in common with Dean lol)

And oh, don't we love a good cry on the first date? Poor thing 😂🤍

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said. “Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.” He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

Indeed 😂 I would've loved to be a fly on the wall when Dory had this conversation with her lol

How he very eloquently avoided talking about Colter accusing him of murdering their father. I wanna be a fly on the wall for that future convo too 🤣

And he slapped you right on the ass.

Loved that she got a punch in before even Russell got there. He might have actually killed that pig lmao

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

I'm having vivid flashbacks to Smoke Eater 🥵🔥

But his hands were gentle for you.

This line just about killed me... 🫠🫠🫠

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

I appreciate that kind of humor 😂😂

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

I absolutely can see him saying that 💯😂

He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car.

Probably one of my favorite scenes is when characters are so hot for each other they lean against a car. There's just something so incredibly passionate about it 🔥🫠

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

Oh, Russell, this is not what the lady wants to hear. Bless him tho 😂

And I figured she wanted more than a one-night-stand or fling. His job and lifestyle truly is a bit of a problem. But he wanted out anyways, so... 🤞

I loved their first date! 😍🤍 Hopefully, they'll see each other again soon and might give this another shot. I have a feeling it's gonna involve her brother's bullshit somehow 😅

Every Second Counts - Part 1

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the first one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: Finally, here we are at Part 1! Remember that A Line and a Half functions as our prologue here.

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some mature thoughts. Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, drug use, mentions of drug addiction and alcoholism, skeevy men, and a tinge of spice.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: "Permission Granted"

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still at the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

After brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she went to you and set her hands on your shoulders.

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.” 

Your face began to heat up in a blush. You crossed your arms.

“All right, no one said there was going to be any of that,” you replied. “It’s just a date. Barely a date, mind you.”

“A-huh,” Dory said with a sneaking smile. “Out of curiosity, what was it about him that hooked you? You’ve been dodging Chris’s valiant attempts for like a month now.”

Chris was a French and Spanish professor. His office was on the same floor as yours, so you two occasionally crossed paths whenever you ventured into the teacher’s lounge.

He usually caught you in the morning while you were grabbing your free coffee fix at the Keurig. He’d chat you up about his classes and his dog and his new boat, and all the while you’d struggle to get a word in edgewise. Despite that, he was good-looking and pleasant, for the most part. It was just…

“I don’t know. He’s not my type, I guess,” you shrugged. You kind of liked conversations where both people got to speak.

“And Russell is?” Dory said, in a teasing tone. You chewed the inside of your lip, fighting a smile.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Kind of want to find out though.”

“Okay, well, let me know what you find,” Dory said, more wryly. You caught a bit of melancholy when her gaze drifted off. Your brows furrowed in concern as you drew closer, setting a hand on her arm.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

She was hesitant, but she eventually answered you with a confession.

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

You could understand that. You squeezed her arm in sympathy.

“Well, he really seems to want to know you now,” you said. You remembered all the questions he asked you when he helped you carry your files back to your office after lunch today—most of them about Dory, about her career, your friendship, and ultimately, if she was happy.

“What happened to you guys?” you asked. “Why are you all so distant? Colter included.”

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

You dimmed at that. You knew their mother still lived in the cabin they grew up in, but Dory had never quite been able to tell you what happened to their dad. You’d never pushed the subject. You knew better than anyone what kind of pain that was. 

“I just wish we’d been able to stay with each other. Me and my brothers, at least,” Dory said. But she adopted a smile for you, before she returned to her desk.

“Okay. Go on your non-date at your favorite bar with Russell. I’ll be here, grading papers until Judgment Day,” she said, with a small laugh that felt like a coverup for thoughts she no longer wanted to think about.

You let her do it. You grabbed your purse and work bag off the spare chair in front of her desk.

“So you’re sure,” you wanted to confirm. “One last chance for me to tell him I came down with food poisoning.”

Dory collected her stack of midterm papers and gave you a cheeky look that said, class dismissed. Then she clicked her red pen and pointedly looked down at the first batch of papers to read through.

You smiled. Okay, you thought, giving her a little wave goodbye when you turned to leave. You had just a couple of hours to drive home and get ready to meet Russell.

“Goodnight,” you called.

“Goodniiight,” Dory replied.

You heard the smirk in her voice without even having to look back.

After fighting through rush hour traffic, you were exhausted when you got home from work. Your tentative excitement and nerves about tonight gave you some new energy though, even if you thought those nerves were silly to have.

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

The Ring Camera beside the door chimed when you entered the house, signaling your arrival. You had to wrinkle your nose at the dank-ass smell that greeted you.

Frowning in annoyance, you dropped your stuff on the kitchen table for now and shucked off your heels. You made a beeline down the hall, to the bedroom that lied across from yours. You pushed it open without knocking. There you caught your older brother, Charlie, snoozing in his bed with the covers half pooling on the floor.

His room was a mess, as usual. Your gaze locked on the evidence of half a blunt on his nightstand and two smoked roaches beside it. You were glad it wasn’t remnants of white lines of powder, like times before, but there was also a large bottle of whiskey. It was almost empty, and hanging loosely from his hand.

He managed to raise his head a bit when you came in.

“Hey,” he said, blinking bleary eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to sit up.

You shook your head and picked around piles of dirty clothes and a couple of used paper plates on the floor. You swiftly grabbed the bottle from his hand and slammed it on the nightstand.

“You promised me, Charlie,” you snapped. “You promised me for the hundredth time that you’d quit all this shit. Where even were you last night? You weren’t home when I left for work this morning.”

He sighed, frowning at how loud you were, and sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side and held his swimming head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand through his hair. It was nearly black, like Dad’s had been, but he’d inherited Mom’s lighter eyes.

“I got invited to a party,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know. This is the last time.”

You expelled a frustrated breath and shook your head.

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say it,” he said. He shut his eyes tight, probably trying to fend off a headache. 

Good, you thought. Let that be a reminder of how bad he’d screwed up again. 

“And while we’re at it, what about your half of the bills? You’re a week late,” you said, testily crossing your arms.

“Yeah, I’m a little behind,” he said. Once again, he cleared his throat past a wad of phlegm. He was still a bit crossfaded too, you could tell. “You know they cut my hours to part-time at the museum. I’ve, uh, I’ve been looking into getting another job—”

“I already paid the phone bill. And the internet, the water bill, the electricity,” you said. “The house may be paid off, but the least you can do is pay your half of living here.”

The longer you stared at him, seeing the guilt hidden behind drunken eyes, you realized he wasn’t just late on his half of the bills.

“How much?” you asked.

He frowned up at you. “What?”

“How much do you owe?” you said. Your voice was as cutting as your gaze. Charlie lowered his.  

“It’s okay, don’t worry—”

“How much,” you pressed.

He looked up at you again, this time with pursed lips. After a beat, he sighed and gave in.

“About two grand,” he admitted.

You raised your eyes heavenward, muttering a curse. Your hands went to your temples as you had to pace the room. You were angry and exasperated in equal measure.

“Who the fuck do you owe two grand?!” you asked.

Charlie shook his head. “It’s better that I don’t tell you that.”

You paused. As you looked down at him, your anger dissolved into sadness, like it always did.

“If Mom and Dad could see you now, they wouldn’t recognize you,” you said.

Charlie fought not to react to that, his brows furrowing. Instead, he just looked down, unable to answer you.

“Charlie, you need help. I can’t keep doing this with you,” you said. Your shaky breath gave way to the burn of tears.  

His red-rimmed eyes became glassy as well.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.

He was always sorry. And you always had to be the one to nurse him back to health, pick up the pieces, pay the bills. You were exhausted. The bone-deep kind of tired that felt like gravity wasn't so much keeping you down, but pushing you.

“I’m going to ask for two things: do what you need to do to get paid, and clean up your shit. If you can’t accomplish that, then I’m taking you to rehab,” you said.

“You know I’ve tried that,” Charlie said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really work for me.”

“You left the program after two weeks!” you retorted.

“I did it on my own! I’ve been clean for months,” he argued.

“And what happened? You go to one party and all your good sense, all your training, mentally and physically—that all goes out the window?” you said. You had half a mind not to believe him.

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Your mouth fell open incredulously.  

“I’m on your back?” you said. “Okay. I’ll get off. Do whatever the hell you want, Charlie. I’m done.”

You left his room in an angry huff. You headed over to your room so you could take a shower and start getting ready to meet Russell at Howley’s. 

By the time you got to your bedroom, you heard the front door slam closed.

The truth was, you were no longer in a mood to have fun when you pulled up to Howley’s, but you needed to escape your house. Also, you weren’t someone who canceled on people last-minute, especially not on Dory’s own brother.

You found Russell waiting for you at the bar. He waved to you with a fifth of whiskey in hand and an easy grin. He’d saved you a seat beside him.

You found yourself smiling. Your mood began to lighten as you went over to him. He looked more or less the same, but this time the jacket and jeans combo was navy blue and dark wash, respectively. His hair was swept back, lightly gelled. You smelled the familiar, rich woodiness of his cologne when you drew near, along with a hint of spicy soap.

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, and thanked him for the assist onto the tall stool. You’d opted for jeans and a blouse, paired with your favorite leather boots. It was less dressy than he’d seen you before, but that was “work mode.” This was a more casual affair, even if you’d spent at least twenty extra minutes on your makeup.

You were glad he picked a spot at the end of the bar though. It put some distance from the group of guys getting rowdy as they cheered at the football game playing on the TV.

“How was the rest of your day, Professor?” he asked. “And what’re you wanting to drink?”

You let out a long sigh and turned toward him, resting your elbow on the counter.

“Awesome. I’m going to need two shots of tequila and an order of something fried, and preferably covered with cheese, please,” you replied.

Russell’s grin deepened. “Okay, I’m thinking ‘awesome’ is code for something. But we can get started on that order of Forget Today’s Unfortunate Events.”

He flagged down the bartender with a raise of his hand, but he shot you a glance.

“Though I’m hoping it’s not all of today that you wanna forget,” he said.

Your lips threatened another smile, as the memory of your hand being swept up into his, and soft lips meeting the back of your hand filtered through your mind.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible,” you said.

After about ten minutes of playfully debating the appetizer menu (you swore by the pretzel and beer cheese, but Russell had his eye on those spicy wings), he finally settled on ordering both.

“When in doubt, don’t go without,” he’d remarked.

You swept a pretty coil of hair over your shoulder and downed your tequila shots with a lime wedge. Meanwhile, Russell tried not to linger his eyes on the way your tongue swept over your finger to catch a drop of lime juice. Your nails were manicured, and the shade of the polish matched your lipstick.

Russell didn’t pretend to know the art and science of a woman’s wardrobe, but everything about you was thought out, it seemed, falling in line with what he’d expect from a (sexy as all hell) college professor. You’d also told him at lunch today that as of last year, you now had two doctorates: History and Ancient Studies.

Even with all that under your belt, you also seemed refreshingly down-to-earth, a lot like Dory in that sense. He could see why you two were friends.

“So, are you from here, or are you a transplant, like my sister?” he asked.

Dory hadn’t come to live in Wyoming until their aunt and uncle took her in, when she was about eight years old. Before last month, Russell hadn’t seen her since. It hurt his heart to think about, but he tried to focus on you.

You now seemed to be staring a bit listlessly at the glass of whiskey in his hands. He laid a hand on your arm and called your name.

“Hmm?” Your brows rose as you blinked to attention. “Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, I’ve lived here pretty much forever.”

“You okay?” Russell asked. “Tequila hit ya a little hard?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry…”

You raised your hands up to your temples. You debated whether you wanted to open up about this, but…considering who Russell was, you thought he might just understand.

“Dory told me you’ve been trying to reconnect with your brother, right? Colter?” you said.

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

“Well, you could say I’ve got a brother issue of my own,” you said, laughing humorlessly. “You don’t have to talk about yours, but maybe you’ll understand… My brother is a veteran too. He was a Captain, air force pilot. He fought in Afghanistan, mainly.”

Russell processed that with a nod. “Yeah, I was there too. Special Ops.”

“Wow, okay. Then you know what it was like for him, coming back home,” you said. Your gaze fell to your empty shot glasses. “It was hard, after…”

“After?” he prompted.

You sighed. “Near the end, he lost half his unit in a raid, off of some flawed intel.”

Russell’s brows knitted together. Hmm. Grief, survivor’s guilt, feeling like you don’t belong.

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

You didn’t notice, but you did push the shot glasses away from you.

“I helped him the best I could,” you said. “I got him a job at the museum I interned at when I was in undergrad. He’s there as a security guard, but it’s not really enough, you know? It’s like, nothing satisfies him. I just…I don’t think I know how to help him anymore.”

You couldn’t help it. Emotion bubbled in your throat, making it close up on you as tears stung in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbled, and you tried to turn your face away. Embarrassment coiled up in your chest and made your face hot.

You felt a hand cover yours on your thigh, squeezing warmly. You looked up and met Russell’s gaze, both sympathetic and understanding.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to calm your shuddering breath. “This isn’t exactly first date material. I can’t believe I unloaded on you like that.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Believe me, I get what your brother’s going through.”

He pushed the plate with the last piece of soft-baked pretzel over to you.

“You finish that if you want, then you go ahead and pick something else off the menu. I won’t even argue with you this time,” he promised with a grin.

It got you to laugh, at least, and he gave you a napkin for your tears.

God, get it together, you told yourself. You’re a damn mess.

“Thanks,” you said. You managed to smile as you blotted at one corner of your eye. You hoped you hadn’t just irreversibly smudged your mascara.

Russell surprised you by brushing his thumb against your other cheek, wiping a stray tear away. Your face began to warm with a blush.

“Again, I’m sorry for dumping on you. We had a fight right when I got home,” you admitted.

“What’s his name?” Russell asked.

“Charlie.”

“Older or younger than you?”

“Four years older,” you replied. “He enlisted a few years after he graduated high school.”

Russell flickered at a smile. Enlisted, huh?

Yet another thing he and Charlie had in common, except Russell hadn’t made it through high school in the classic sense.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“I think your brother sounds lost right now. I’ve known a lotta guys like him, unfortunately,” Russell admitted. “Walking back into civilian life, it ain’t easy. That I know my damn self. Just like I know a thing or two about being an older brother. He’s probably doing his best to keep it off your shoulders.”

You shook your head at that. Trying, maybe.

You weren’t even sure of that anymore. Still, it made you all the more curious about Russell and his family.

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask this, and you don’t have to answer. But did you and Colter have a falling out or something?” you asked.

Russell expelled a deep breath and took a sip from his glass. How was he supposed to navigate this minefield with you?

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.”

He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

He shook his head and drained the rest of his glass. 

“Well, my brother’s got an idea about me that isn’t true,” he said.

Your head tilted in curiosity. “Which is?”

His lips briefly raised in a wan smile. 

“We don’t gotta get into that one tonight. But uh, the truth is, I’ve tried reaching out to him several times now. He just doesn’t wanna hear from me,” said Russell.

You considered him for a moment. You laid a hand on his arm, covered by his jacket. 

“Don’t give up,” you said, with a sigh of your own. “Despite some things I said to him today, I know I can’t. My brother’s the only real family I have.”

Russell grew curious then. “What about your parents?”

You gave a weak smile.

“They passed away when we were young, but…we don’t have to get into that one tonight,” you said, borrowing his words. 

His expression fell. “Jesus. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” you accepted, twisting the napkin around your fingers.

An awkward lull of silence fell between you, until Russell nodded and blew out a breath.

“Well. Heavy, huh?”

You chuckled and rested your head against your hand.

“I know. Again, my fault,” you replied. 

“It’s okay, swee—. Mmm,” he cut himself off, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Were you about to sweetheart me?” you asked playfully, nudging his hand. “You know how I feel about that.”

“No, ma’am. Not at all,” Russell shook his head. His smile gave him away though. You laughed and grabbed his arm.

“Come on,” you said.

He allowed you to lead him out of his seat. He already had a tab open, so he’d settle up with the bar later. “Where we going?”

“You’re gonna lose to me at pool,” you said with a smirk.

Russell laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist instead.

“Oh, okay. I’m gonna give you a run for your money, though,” he promised.

And he was true to his word.

Russell Shaw turned out to be a more than worthy opponent. You studied the board as you changed the angle on your cue stick no less than five times.

“You gonna make a move, or we going to be here all night?” he said.

He was smiling as he leaned against his own cue on the other side of the board. His clever moves had left you in a difficult position to get your three remaining solid-colored balls into the pocket.

“You hush. I’m thinking,” you said, fighting your own smile.

“Careful, you’ve got steam coming out of your ears,” he teased.

You shot him a narrowed look for that. But then you smiled, as the answer came to you. You walked around to his side of the board and nudged him with your hip.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said to him over your shoulder.

Russell made way for you, but his eyes followed the way you bent over to line up your shot. Namely the curve of your ass in those tight jeans. He could see you knew exactly what you were doing, in more ways than one.

You shot your shot. The solid green ball leapt over his white-striped blue one and managed to sink into the pocket. You straightened up and gave him a triumphant little smirk.

He tried to temper his smile (and ignore the way his cock twitched).

“All right, go on, do your little victory lap," he said. "But remember, I let you go first.”

“Like that matters,” you quipped back.

You went back to the other side of the board to line up your next shot. Russell noticed a pair of drunk men ambling your way from the bar, but before he could make a subtle move to put himself in between, one of the men’s gazes slid down your form and gave into the base urge to let out a low whistle.

And he slapped you right on the ass.

You gasped, grabbing hold of the pool table. Then your shock melted into ire.

Russell was already heading toward you with an angry frown of his own, but even he had to stop short, when he watched you throw a punch that cracked the drunken man across the bridge of his nose.

Good form, Russell thought, when the guy reared back with a howl. His nose dripped blood when his hands came away from his face.

His buddy started to raise his hackles, but that was when Russell stepped to your side. He angled himself toward you and loosely gripped his pool cue by his hip, like it was an extension of his arm. He was fully prepared to use it like one.

“Fucking bitch!” said the one who was still dabbing his nose in vain. He glared at you, his eyes watering involuntarily, while his friend tried to keep him upright. You rolled your eyes.

"You're the one who's crying, bitch," you returned. Russell held in a snort. He cleared his throat and looked on at the pair of idiots.

“I’d have a little sit down if I were you,” Russell told them, with a smirk. “Let that be a lesson to ya. And if it don’t stick? Well. Whatever you start, I can damn well finish.”

His steely gaze reinforced the promise of his words. The other men were still angry, but even drunks had some sense of self-preservation. They ambled toward the back of the bar to find another pool table.

Russell focused his attention back on you, finding you looking down at your hand, rotating your wrist and flexing your fingers.

“Well, look at you, slugger,” he said. You met his smile with one of amusement.

“That’s just what I needed tonight. A broken hand,” you quipped.

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

Damn, she really gave it to him, Russell thought.

“Sorry,” he said, but your hand felt fine, at least. More than fine. His gaze flicked up to yours as his amused grin deepened. “Good hit though.”

If he liked you before, he might’ve fallen half in love with you right there.

You laughed through the pain. “Yeah, my brother did teach me something. Shit.”

Russell led you back to the bar after you grabbed your purse. There he called to the bartender for some ice. The guy nodded; he’d seen the entire exchange and was sympathetic.

You knew this sort of thing was just par for the course at this kind of bar, but they had the best drinks. Charlie had to carry you out of here on your twenty-first birthday, drunk off your ass. Not to mention, he’d punched out two handsy dicks that night.

You recounted the story to Russell over a couple more drinks. Your conversation was lighter then, filled with laughter and a warm, companiable feeling. He was still rather evasive about his job, but you supposed he had to be, since it was government contract work.

Private security, mainly. Or so he'd said. This man made you infinitely curious, and a bit apprehensive, if you were honest.

And yet, at some point while you two shared and laughed and split a hot sandwich with another round of beers, you realized it.

I like this, you thought. And I like him.

However, the night had to come to an end sometime. Your third involuntary yawn told Russell it was time to call it.

"I'm okay," you tried.

"Nah, you've gotta work tomorrow," he said. He signaled to the bartender. "Let me go ahead and close out my tab."

“Oh, I can pay for half,” you said, reaching for your purse now hanging from your hip.

“You kidding me? Put that away,” he said, guiding your hand with your wallet aside.

Smiling, you accepted his generosity with a small thank you. Then, you let him take up your sore hand again, just to carefully press the half-melted bag of ice over it.

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

Your smile became softer. “Yeah.”

You had no doubt that this man, tall as he was, with his broad shoulders and the controlled way he carried himself, could’ve laid both of those drunken assholes onto their asses. His intimidating gaze had promised as much.

But his hands were gentle for you.

“I was about to win that game, no contest!” you said, laughing as you and Russell headed out of the bar and into the parking lot.

“Hey, hey, I still had time to win it back,” he argued. “I only had three more balls to go. I could’ve sunk that with my eyes closed.”

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

Russell snorted. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“Hey, you laughed!” you said, pointing at him.

He shook his head, despite his amusement. He slowed to a stop in front of his car.

“Where’d you park, huh?” he asked.

“Over there,” you said, pointing several parking spaces down. Your eyes were drawn to his car, however. “Wow. This is your car?”

Russell grinned and patted the top of his black Chevy.

“Aw, yeah. That’s my baby,” he said. “She’s a Chevelle, 1967.”

You didn’t know much about cars, but you could see this was a classic beauty. You passed a hand over its sleek paint job without touching, so you didn't get any fingerprints on it. Though you quirked a smile over your shoulder at him.

“She?” you intoned.

“That’s right. She,” he confirmed.

You smirked and crossed your arms. You paused in front of the passenger door, and when Russell drew in closer, you had to crane your neck up to meet his warm gaze.

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You tilted your head, your own eyes dancing.

“I’m sure you’re brave enough to find out,” you said.

Russell decided he’d take that bet.

He leaned in slowly. He made a show of hesitating, raising a brow, as if waiting for a blow. You were tempted to laugh.

But then he let loose a true smile, and he bowed his head to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fell shut, and your hands moved to flatten against his chest. A firm fucking wall. Jesus.

He circled his arms around your waist, bringing you in closer. Your fingers wound up in his hair, while he tilted his head to kiss you again. You met him with the same fervor with each new kiss, and the feel of your body, soft and pliant under his hands, each little sweet sound that you made, it all drove him to delve in deeper.

You moaned into his mouth at the first warm swipe of his tongue against yours. He tasted like the burn of good whiskey.

You pressed yourself flush against him on instinct. He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car. His hand tangled into your hair, gripping, then easing through the soft strands.

Russell veered away from your soft mouth after a while, just to burn a line of warm, wet kisses along your jaw, and down your neck with the added rasp of his beard.

His lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. He kissed and sucked at your skin, even grazing with his teeth. You gasped softly in his ear, shuddering against him. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his strong back out of a need to feel him.

His hands were heavy along the curve of your waist then, squeezing your hips. It all felt incredibly right. And by right, you meant body tingling, warmth churning in your lower belly, and wetness growing between your legs, for sure dampening your panties.

You tugged him back by his hair, so you could reach him for another steamy kiss.

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

You paused against his lips, parting from him softly.

“Or not," he added. "Just thought I’d mention.” 

You giggled, catching your breath, and then smoothing your hands down his chest. The faint throb of your core was telling you one thing, but the warning signals of your more cautious mind were telling you another. You thought for a moment…but then you sighed. 

“How long are you really in town?” you asked.

His wet lips tugged to one corner, ruefully. “A few more days, probably.”

“Right,” you said with a frown. “Russell, I like you. I actually, I really do. If you were sticking around for a while, it’d be one thing. But you’re my best friend’s brother, and I—”

“No, I get it. I can’t predict when I’m gonna be able to swing back into town, and you’ve gotta live your life,” he said, but not without care. He curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear. 

Your heart tugged, almost painfully.

“You’re a good guy, Russell Shaw,” you breathed. “Why can’t you be a good guy who’s staying?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. Then he cringed, knowing how you felt about sweethearting men. “Ah, sorry—” 

You smiled and covered his mouth with your fingers. 

“It’s okay. You have permission to sweetheart me.” 

After blinking his surprise away, his face eased into a grin.

“Then I’ll wear that badge with honor,” he said. 

Your shoulders shook with laughter when you let your forehead fall against his chest.

Russell remained what he had been throughout the entire night: a gentleman, who accompanied you over to your car.

After another stolen kiss or two in front of your sedan, you parted ways from him with a bit of a heavy heart. You wondered if you made the right decision, or if you should’ve just gone for it for once, instead of second-guessing yourself like usual.

You did know this. The rumble of his Chevelle driving down the opposite road would be imprinted on your memory.

When you returned home, you realized that the house was empty, and in complete darkness.

Charlie still wasn’t home.

Worried, you flicked on the lights and began to text his cell, only to find a note for you on the kitchen counter.

And it worried you even more.

I’m sorry. I’m going to make it right. 

— C.

AN: 😬 Well then! lol We're diving straight into the drama and feels on this one. What did you think of her "barely a date" with Russell? 😂

And where do you think we're going next with Charlie?

Next Time:

Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.

“You should call the police,” she advised.

You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.

You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.

“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:

“Colter, the tracker.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

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@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[a-hughes22]

Eras Tour (Nico's Version)

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Swiftie!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Some sweet little headcanons of what it would be like to go to the Eras Tour with Nico! I can’t believe it’s almost over :(

Word count: 448 words (unedited)

Since you began dating, Nico has gotten to know your love for Taylor Swift.

He’s heard a few of her hit songs before, but he wouldn’t consider himself a fan. But he doesn’t complain when you play her music for him and might just secretly enjoy it! He ends up adding a few songs to his many different playlists.

You also show him clips of the Eras Tour, telling him how much you wish you guys could go. But the tickets are expensive, and almost always sold out.

Nico understands how much it would mean to you if you guys went, so he works really hard to find tickets for one of her last shows. Thankfully, he manages to snatch up a pair for Taylor’s final show in Vancouver!

To prepare for the show, the two of you create friendship bracelets to hand out. He also listens to the official set list to familiarize himself more with the songs.

By December 8th he’s memorized most of the songs!

The two of you wear a matching outfit: you’re wearing a sparkly pink set to represent Lover, and he’s wearing a T-shirt that says “KARMA”.

You guys take lots of pictures, trade friendship bracelets, and talk with the people around you. Before the show’s even started both of your arms are stacked with colorful bracelets!

When the countdown ends and Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince begins to play, he feels just as excited as you.

He proudly screams the Cruel Summer bridge and the two of you share a dance during Lover.

He manages to sing pretty much every word in the All Too Well 10-minute version.

Like you, he cries during Marjorie.

The surprise songs that Taylor has chosen tonight are Daylight/Today Was A Fairytale and Timeless/ New Year’s Day.

When the Midnights era begins, he feels sad that it’s almost over.

He turns so red during the choreography of Vigilante Shit, and you tease him about it for the rest of the night.

Once Karma finishes, Taylor disappears from the stage. The stage turns black, and she doesn’t reappear. On the screen, a snake and a date appear. It’s the announcement of Reputation (Taylor’s Version)!

She finally returns on the stage wearing a brand-new outfit: a dress that displays all of her eras. She begins a speech thanking everyone for this journey and performs Long Live as the closing song of the entire tour.

Nico tells you that this was one of the most magical nights of his life, and that maybe, just maybe, he’s a certified Swiftie now.

[ambalambs]

"Ah, but there's an idea! I have a matter to attend to at the Agora. Please go inside - I will join you shortly."

[corvidaedream]

now that my time at the boston tea party is coming to a close, im reflecting on my favorite facts and i think the best one is that one of the guys involved (my nemesis lendall of the john gray gay panic incident) is the distant ancestor of the guy who made the first philosoraptor meme.

history is a funny thing

[triglycercule]

thinking so much about horror and dust,,, gosh these SILLY goobers theyre so EYDAGHGGG!!!!! compliments to eachother,,,,,

i need them to make puns about topics that absolutely nobody should be laughing about and then DIE cackling because no waaay the punchline was a human's execution :333 (phantom papyrus is shaking his head in dismay)

need them to share stories about shitty experiences with humans and for horror to be impressed by dust's ability to keep coming up with new ways to kill his human and then for dust to also be impressed by horror's ability to handle with all different types of humans!!!

they make eachother food but dust poisoned horror's food and horror added rusted nails to his so theyre just like no you first you really should eat first i wouldn't wanna be rude no but i INSIST! they both know. it's a fun little game isnt it??? horror gets a bit scared of having to eat the food when dust's eyes turn red and cyan but it's okay because then he can just shove the shitty eggs he made into those eyes because theres literal NAILS cooked into it

sometimes they fight because thats normal and dust is annoyed at horror for hating undyne because she's a good person who just wanted to help others and horror's getting pissed because DIDN'T YOU LITERALLY KILL HER DONT YOU JUST VIEW HER AS EXP WHY ARE YOU DEFENDING HER!!! and they bicker back and forth and dust is really starting to wonder why he even empathizes with horror atp.... but its ok after a little quarrel they simmer down and move on. they dont change opinions at all the fight was for nothing

but then there's also times when they just wanna confide in each other because likeeeee theyre both shitty people who fucked up their undergrounds by their own accords and miss how peaceful life was back then. dust tells horror stories of life back before the human came because horror doesn't really remember it that well anymore and horror speaks to phantom papyrus through dust so he can pretend that this is just a conversation between sans and papyrus and everything's okay for just a moment. they both linger onto their memories of how things were before everything went to shit even though horror can barely remember and dust hates his previous self back then,,,,,

dust thinks horror's sooo much better than him for not literally mass murdering everyone but then goes around and stink eyes him for forcing his snowdin to eat humans and then leave the rest of the underground to starve. WHY DIDN'T YOU DO BETTER HORROR WHY DIDN'T HELP EVERYONE ELSE. horror scoffs because even though he kinda lowkey gets dust's philosophy of saving everyone and stopping the human through gaining LV he still killed everyone??? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO THEM YOU IDIOT SHOULD'VE JUST FOUND ANOTHER WAY OR LET IT HAPPEN!!! the way they understand eachother on paper but then in reality despise what the other did,,,,,

ok SO WHAT if they encourage eachother's delusions. SO WHAT if they pretend the past never went away so WHAAAAT!!! it doesn't matter at least they found someone who can match their freak,,,,,, dust and horror peak duo PEAK DUO DARE I SAY OK

[lucreziaces]

thinking about the dark side of cesare fanning the flames-- or at the very least just not doing anything to stop them-- of the unholy love/desire he and lucrezia felt for each other when he just playfully chased her around the garden after discovering she was watching him fuck another woman, or when he planted the idea that he'd be the only one to care for her heart, or when he implied the love between them was comparable to the love of God, calling it "as all-consuming and pure as the love of God"....an idea she later reflects in season 3 when she says "one touch of your hand and God comes rushing back" (also in the same scene "whatever it is, it overwhelms".) like, yes, okay I do believe lucrezia is probably the one that shifted their relationship into sexual terrority (not on purpose though!!), but cesare is older by a few years. he would've understood it to be wrong before she did, and he could've sat her down at any point in season 1 or 2 and told her "hey, this isn't how brothers and sisters are supposed to feel about each other. we can't lean into whatever this is, okay?" and then made an actual effort to let her go instead of just half-assing it before then immediately beginning the build up of the already thick sexual tension between them until it was unbearable and she was left thinking her husband didn't care about her because he wouldn't sleep with her, so she climbed into cesare's bed and convinced him they should just get it on because no one else could understand them and people already it whisper about them anyway, so "why deny ourselves the pleasure?" very sick and twisted of him. I kinda hate him for it actually. because if he hadn't gone and created this "ideal lover" in lucrezia's head that only he could fit the mold of, she might've found actual happiness with someone else!! 😡 😡

[j-esbian]

so… still no tary huh. at this point my two theories are:

1) he will be in one episode as a fun side character

2) when shit hits the fan, scanlan will decline to rejoin them and taryon will help defeat vecna