#your honor I love this man

[theartisttoyourmuse]

I love that Patrick Jane is so close to finding Red John and the first thing he does is invite five men to his abandoned estate and ask them to (partially) strip

[conretewings]

Vander for the character bingo!

Oh man oh boi

Listen this man has my whole heart...okay he shares it but he still has it. What can I say he is a DAD adopting four chaos children? Doing what he can for everyone in the Undercity? Being able to switch gears from playful to intimidating in a blink? THEN going to stern loving protective dad the next? Absolute bamf. Sexy as hell? Hell yes. Gimme that dilf. I'll make sure he gets some goddamn rest and a massage and the best blowjob of his life- ooops

[lvrsfilm]

contrary to popular belief, Simon Riley does not do casual.

Nothing about him is casual. Nothing about his dedication to his work and his team, the bullets he would disperse and receive for them. Nothing about his routine, the way he shines his boots or folds his uniforms every week like clockwork. He is a cut and dry man, or at least he tries to be.

You, on the other hand, are the opposite of him in so many ways that at a glance people would assume you're the kind of person he hates. (He wishes that was the case, it'd make his life simpler). You bounce around base like a lit firecracker, your fuse sizzling quietly even during missions, never burning out. You never seem to tire, even after the particularly hard ones that leave him mute and holed up in his quarters for hours every day after.

You are casual. Coming to his room whenever you feel like it, knocking in a way that lets him know it's you and no one else. Bringing him tea, or bourbon, the occasional meal if you can convince him. He doesn't see how you can think it's casual. Slipping off your boots, leaving them half laced at his door.

Slipping into his bed. Laying next to him in silence, just so he isn't alone. Bandaging any cuts that aren't severe enough to warrant him going to medical. The soft skin of your hands making practiced movements over his scarred skin that only you've seen. He is not a casual man. And you don't seem to have figured that out yet.

No other man on base interested in you would even entertain the thought of pursuing you, for fear of Simon somehow hearing their thoughts and stringing them up by their necks to show the others what happens if they touch what's his. Everyone else can see the way he looks at you, the way he lets you in.

Everyone except you, apparently.

You don't ask why he lets you in, and he doesn't ask why you keep coming back.

He doesn’t know how to tell you that you’re the first person to make him feel human in a long time. That every soft knock on his door chips away at the walls he’s built, cement crumbling under your touch, a feeling akin to warm liquid gold seeping through the cracks, running over his scar tissue. Like he's a victim of Midas. Exposing him to something he thought he’d buried years ago. You remind him what it’s like to be vulnerable, to crave something more than routine and mission reports.

And it terrifies him.

Because Simon Riley does not do messy, either.

But you? You’re a storm. Chaotic and unpredictable, rushing into his life like you’ve always belonged there. He doesn’t know what to do with you, how to keep you at arm’s length without losing the warmth you bring into his otherwise cold existence. So he lets you in, over and over, even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.

Tonight is no different.

The knock comes—a rhythm so familiar now that it’s practically a lullaby. He already knows it’s you before he opens the door. You’re standing there, as casual as ever in civvies, with that cheeky grin that makes his chest tighten in ways he refuses to name.

“Thought you could use some company,” you say, holding up a thermos of tea like a peace offering.

He steps aside, wordlessly, because what else is he supposed to do? Tell you to leave? Pretend he doesn’t want you here? He’s not that good a liar, not around you.

You slip past him, kicking off your boots, leaving them next to the doorway as always, and make yourself at home like you belong here. Like you belong with him. And maybe you do.

He watches as you set the thermos on his desk and plop onto his bed, laying on your back and stretching like a cat, looking at him expectantly. It’s a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes. An invitation. A promise.

He lays down, careful to leave just enough space between you to keep the illusion of distance. But then you lean into him, shoulder brushing his arm, and the illusion shatters. His resolve crumbles.

“You came straight here when we got back,” you say softly, tilting your head to look at him. “skipped dinner, I saved a plate for you from the mess.”

It’s such a simple statement, but it cuts through him like a blade.

He turns his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours. He looks at you like you're a puzzle he can't solve. Like he needs to figure put your angle, figure out why you're treating him so softly. For a second, the air between you feels impossibly fragile, as if even breathing too hard might shatter it.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, his voice low, almost gruff, like the admission costs him something.

You tilt your head at him, your lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. “Do what?”

He exhales sharply, as though frustrated, though it’s unclear if it’s with you or himself. “This… whatever it is you’re doing. Looking out for me. Bringing me tea. Sitting here. I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know,” you reply simply, your tone disarming in its honesty. “I do it because I want to.”

The words hang in the air between you, unassuming yet weighty, like they’re daring him to refute them. He doesn’t, because he can’t. You've made up your mind. There’s a stubbornness in your voice that he knows too well—one that he’s realized he has no defense against.

“You shouldn’t,” he mutters after a moment, turning his gaze toward the ceiling. “It’s a waste.”

Your smile falters, just slightly, but it doesn’t vanish. “You’re not a waste.”

He flinches at that, so subtly you might have missed it if you weren’t so attuned to him. His fingers twitch on the mattress, his eyebrows furrowing beneath the mask. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t argue, but his silence says enough. You press your lips together, chewing the bottom corner slightly as you debate whether to push further. You decide to anyway, because that’s what you do.

You grin, a mischievous glint in your eyes, and he knows you’re about to say something cheeky. But instead, you surprise him again by reaching over to touch his hand—just a fleeting brush of your fingers, so brief he almost convinces himself it didn’t happen.

He closes his eyes, his jaw tightening, but he doesn’t pull away. That’s something, you think.

You turn onto your side, facing him fully now, your fingers brushing against the back of his hand. He doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch this time, so you let your touch linger—gentle, steady, unassuming.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you add quietly, almost as if it’s a promise.

When he finally opens his eyes again, there’s something raw and unguarded in his gaze, something that makes your chest ache. He doesn’t say anything—doesn’t thank you, doesn’t argue—but the way his fingers curl ever so slightly against yours feels like an answer.

[yeetmyboi]

My lil brain cell just had a little thought about freshly being Simon’s wife and you get invited to your first outing with the bois and their birds and Simon gets to see a side of you he absolutely loves.

Like maybe it’s a small outing just for everyone to meet and get to know each other. You get nervous about meeting so many people at the same time, let alone some of Simon’s close friends and coworkers.

Perhaps you’re a bit self conscious about being a bigger gal, but it all deflates when you see you’re not the only one. Price’s wife, just as plush, is very welcoming and friendly. She pulls you into a tight hug, ‘welcoming’ you into their little ‘wives’ club and immediately introduces you to Johnny’s and Kyle’s significant others.

After the first hour, you find yourself feeling a bit silly about being so nervous and start loosening up. It all reaches a head when Johnny suggests a cheeky game of softball or kickball. (And of course it’s these trained special forces men vs their cute wives, duhh).

You’ve played sports in the past, finding you had a bit of a competitive streak. So, you’re not surprised that it resurfaces during what should be a relaxed game. Even the other wives get into it, playful trash talk and teasing ensues.

At one point, you hit the ball and manage to steal not just one base but two.

Simon can’t help but grin. He likes seeing the determination on your face. The look that he swears could move mountains.

Absolutely goes feral seeing you dive to avoid Johnny’s attempt to tag you out and touch base. Gray dust and gravel covers your outfit as you pluck yourself back up.

The whole thing turns him on. Seeing his soft bird have a sharp edge to her, a bit of grit to her softness. The duality of it all is enough to give this man something else to distract him for the rest of the get together

Definitely something he’s gonna have to show you the second you two are alone in the parking lot as the others leave.

Just a thought lol 🤭🤭

[vampdcon]

The toxic gossip train

[fuckoffwade]

"Say that again, bub?"

Muscle anatomy is my downfall! I have to relearn everything all over again if I want to draw my baby boy.

[unspecifiedfigure]

watching the sunset together alive and well after early retirement <3

[lifemod17]

Someone from the crowd yelled "go Andrew!" during Cherry Wine at his last show in Forest Hills, NY and Andrew got flustered 🥹💛

I AM SO NOT FARING WELL BESTIES

🎥: missykitty | instagram

Forest Hills, night 4 || 06/08/2024

[cassiopeia141]

*INSERT GROSS HAPPY NOISES*

Guuuuyyysssss they're so cute I could just trip on their existence and fall flat on my face and say thank you.

Anyway. I love Jayvik. Here's some soft Jayvik. I tried a different rendering method. I didn't cry. It was successful I think. Be proud of me.

[valiantvillain]

You can't convince me Gale wasn't totally advertising himself as marriage material throughout the entirety of his romance. He's got a tower. It's got a great kitchen and a wine cellar. He can cook. He'll formally introduce you to Tara over a nice dinner. His mother will love you. And after so many years of the bar being in the pits of hell for irl men I fell for that shit hook, line, and sinker. Feel his shirt that smells like a library. It's husband material.

[ilikeicecoffee-blog]

Peach "You just don't know when to quit!"

Mario "Huh, I never thought of that as a good thing."

Peach "It's a GREAT thing!"♡

It's such a short moment, but I'll always love this scene in the movie❤️🩷 GRRRAHHHH

[bisexualchaosdemon]

Please tell me I'm not the only one still giggling about Jeremy hearing Jean say his name for the first time and "damn I'm gay"ing so hard he had to make sure he wasn't making Jean uncomfortable

[kenneth-black]

Nothing to see here folks, just two husbands being proud and supportive of each other 🥹🥹🥹

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

[hannahelatham]

'When I recall how beautiful you were'

prints available: duo, fool only, fitz only (patrons get an extra 10% off, including sale, early access and HD versions: https://www.patreon.com/oexas)

[savvy-devine666]

*No one speaks to Zestial that Way!*

Yes queen!