#cute things Oliver does

[olliesneweyes]

Images stolen from my friend from @vocatoneofficial 's twitter and uh. I am insane hello?????

There is. So much here

[sammygender]

YALL ARE NOT SERIOUS PEOPLE no way i’m looking at the tumblr tag for spn 7x03 aka the sam centric flashback episode dealing with his childhood trauma and how he feels like he’s a freak and everyone is just posting about DEAN. dean and his stupid fucking pie. dean winchester used to be my guy! genuinely! s2-3 i truly thought i was a deangirl! But you people (plus this show atp lmfao) are making me hate him😭

[clqoo]

the very talented typicalaveragefangirl's Girl Dad Adam J. Carlsen, PhD series has me thinking about how ayala could 100% get adam to sing you're welcome from moana word for word like hear me out adam: *in the middle of literally CRUSHING the rapping part of you're welcome from moana for his 3 kids* look where i've been i make everything happen look at that mean mini-Maui just tickety-tap- olive: * walks in * olive: 🧍 adam: 🧍 olive: oh my god i love you so much

[mrfoox]

Talking with Oliver really is the best tbh

[amandacanwrite]

I would like to share a few head canons for Gale Dekarios being in love with tav/you. If you liked this one and have a request for another character let me know. These ones have just been percolating for a bit.

In Battle

He tries very hard to stay near you. He doesn’t like it when you go off on your own. He knows he doesn’t quite have the strength of Karlach or the sure footedness of Astarion, but he’s not just going to let you fight everyone on your own.

Sometimes he gets a little hurt that you always put yourself in harms way/take so much of the damage on the battlefield. Don’t you know that losing you would destroy him?

You have never witnessed it, but according to the other party members he goes feral if you’re knocked unconscious.

When you wake up it’s always with your head cradled in his lap as shadowheart works on the worst of the wounds.

He does this thing with his magic where he makes his hands really cold. It feels nice on your feverish skin as he gently smooths your hair away from your face, you don’t know why you feel so nauseous and sweaty after you black out but this little gesture helps you come back smoothly.

He has a hard time sleeping after a rough encounter. He keeps waking up and making sure you’re still breathing. In the end he gives up on sleeping and just reads by the fire, calming his nerves to the sound of your steady, stable breathing.

In Camp

He is hilariously fussy about what you eat.

“No, you ABSOLUTELY CANNOT subsist off of a loaf of bread, three olives and a bottle of wine. We are no longer young scholars barely SCRAPING by—“

Very resourceful when it comes to what you can scrape together out of barrels around camp. You were very skeptical when you watched him putting a variety of different bones into a cauldron as you left him back in camp one day. But you came back to a rich stew full of potatoes, some wild rice and even some cut up apple in the mix.

He likes it when you play with his hair. But he has to very pointedly avoid it if he’s in the middle of reading up on something.

“Darling, are you certain you’re not practiced in the arcane arts? I do think you’ve got some magic in those fingertips of yours, at the very least, with how quickly they can put me to sleep.”

When You’re Alone

It’s simple. He worships you. Perhaps it’s because his last lover was a goddess but it seems to come easy for him; the reverent words, the gentle touches, the utter devotion. Sometimes you catch him just… looking at you. His eyes softly hooded, a relaxed curve to his lips. It’s your favorite to ask what’s on his mind when he looks at you like that.

“Hm? Oh, nothing much. I’ve just been observing. Did you know you purse your lips when you’re reading something that you disagree with? Yes—hah—just like that.”

He loves to read WITH you. Especially loves to show you some of his favorite tomes. He’ll get you all nestled up against him and hold the book down in front of you. He reads much faster than you, so he busies himself kissing behind your ear or playing with your hair until you turn the page.

Gods does he love it when you ask him questions about something to do with magic. He loves watching the glint in your eye when he’s helped you understand something.

You love it when you get him rolling on a topic of theory that you know he doesn’t get to talk about much. Sometimes he loses you when he gets into the minutiae, but he’s so damn cute when he’s ranting about the wonder in the world.

In Intimate Moments

(Potential NSFW below.)

Of course it is not a surprise that he’s a generous lover. What is a surprise is how demanding he can be when he feels like it. He knows you are no stranger to a challenge and he loves to make things more exciting by presenting you with one.

“Of course I’m aware of our companions in camp. But it’s not as if we can afford ourselves more privacy. You’re just going to have to quiet those lovely little sounds you make while I touch you… let’s see… it was here wasn’t it? Ah, ah… shhhh, my love. Those pointy ears of Astarion’s might pick even that tiny sound.”

Gods does he know how to string words together to leave you completely undone.

Sometimes foreplay is mostly talk. He can get you going without even touching you.

“My love, I’ve not been able to stop thinking of the ways I want to touch you all day. Shall I tell you what’s been on my mind?”

His breath tickles against your ear as his hands smooth over your clothed body, telling you how he wants to take you. It’s all the more flustering when you know he always keeps his word.

Love making always starts with a kiss, deep and slow.

You feel him smile into the kiss when he slips his fingers into the front of your trousers and he feels just how aroused he’s made you.

“You are exquisite. A delicacy of the highest quality. Do you know that?”

He’s not one to bang it out for a quickie. He doesn’t like to feel like he’s stealing his time with you, or like he’s a young man again and hastily getting whatever he can before heading back to the dormitories. Every touch, every word, every thrust is slow and deliberate. He wants to relish the feeling of it all. He wants to soak you in.

Somehow, he always smells good. Like cinnamon and tea and… some earthen, herbaceous scent you cant place.

So many cuddles after you’re done.

[kakujis]

do you love me?;

tokrev ver.

synopsis: you/they wake them/you up at 3am.

ft + wc: isagi yoichi, michael kaiser, oliver aiku. around 2k

warnings: gn!reader, no set timelines, pet names, situationship (oliver) extremely! soft! oliver!!, slightly angsty (oliver), slight jealousy (kaiser), kaiser's is suggestive, none really for isagi! aaand that should be it!

a/n: i finally finished something!! i've been in such a rut not only with writing but with reading. TnT. hopefully i can write more once my semester is finished! anyways, i wrote oliver's in basically one sitting kicking my feet n screaming. also ily to zen cus i dropped like the entire fic in their dms LMFAOO. and ily to su for proofreading for me!! hope u enjoy ♡.

isagi:

you always saw the twinkle in isagi yoichi’s eyes when he talked about soccer. it was cute, charming, and part of what attracted you to him. when the two of you finally started dating, soccer was very much a part of your lives. you’d pop in at practice whenever you could and much to his delight, you’d even try to learn about his idols and the game. 

when you studied it on your own, it was fine, you could go at your own pace. but when isagi was there, it was a little different. he always had so much to say, so many techniques and teams to go over. he was like a walking soccer encyclopedia and you appreciated it, even when it got a little overwhelming. 

but tonight, as he talked your ear off about noel noa for the nth time, you found yourself dozing off. the black haired striker’s eyes were glued to the match he was playing on the tv, every so often rewinding or slowing down a play to explain it. you tried your best, really, to stay awake but it was nearing 3am and soon enough yoichi was speaking to himself. 

“man, that was sick!” he exclaims. he’s about to ask your opinion when he finally looks back to see your head in your arms, asleep. “…oh.” 

he rouses you out of sleep, shaking your shoulder gently. when you awaken you’re met with his pouting face. you blink off the drowsiness, rubbing your eyes. “sorry i dozed off…” you reach for the remote, but he stops you. “yoichi?” 

“do you love me?” you’re caught off guard by the seriousness in his voice and the intensity of his gaze. 

you nod, “of course i do.” 

“say it.” it’s not uncharacteristic for him to be intense at times, but the glint in his eye is something you usually only see when he’s playing. you didn’t think you’d see it now and it’s a bit amusing. 

“i love you, yoichi.” you say, a smug grin on your face as you poke at his pouty cheeks. “aww, are you upset?” 

snapping out of it, he waves your hand away, slightly turning while his cheeks blush bright red. “…no.” 

“my baby,” you coo, continuing to reach over and squish his cheeks, “i’m sorry for falling asleep, yoi.”

“it’s okay…” he mumbles, enjoying the attention, “i didn’t realize you were so sleepy.” 

“well, it is 3am…” you giggle, pointing to his alarm clock. 

it’s cute how fast his head whips around to look. “oh… my bad.” he apologizes, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. 

“don’t worry about it,” you shrug, before getting up and pulling at his hands. “let’s go to sleep, yeah?” 

but isagi pauses, conflicted, before glancing back at the tv. “… just one more play?” 

“yoichi!” you whine, the idea of cuddling with your boyfriend in bed being extremely appealing. 

“please?” he pleads, hands clasped, and you sigh, giving in to his doe eyes. 

“fine. one more. that’s it and then we’re going to bed.” you say, settling down next to him. but if you’re being honest, you’re never immune to isagi yoichi.

the light in his eyes as he rambles and talks to you about his favorite thing always overwhelms anything else. you love him, wholly and fully. and maybe that’s why you don’t mention anything as one play turns to two, which then turns into the entire match. not a single word escapes you as he loads up the next game, telling you “this next one is insane.” 

it’s isagi’s turn to fall asleep and as the sun peeks over the horizon, you press a peck to his cheek as you wrap a blanket over his shoulders. 

“good night, yoichi.” 

kaiser:

michael kaiser was many things, first and foremost a soccer player, secondly, a striker with a god complex and most importantly, your boyfriend. well, perhaps most important to you and although you’re mostly able to cast aside that doubt to love him fully, there are still moments when you just have to hear it. 

it’s 3am and kaiser’s in deep sleep, evident by the subtle snores coming from him. in contrast, you’re fully awake and sitting next to him, one finger trailing the expanse of his skin, from the curve of his cheek to the line of his jaw. he stirs slightly, but nonetheless stays asleep and that annoys you. 

“michael,” you whine, prodding at his cheek, “do you love me?” his eyelids flutter, face contorting to the singsong of your voice. 

“huh?” he responds, eyes opening and brows furrowing into a scowl you continue to prod. he grabs your hand, pulling it away from him. “what is it?” 

“do you love me?” you repeat, happily humming at his pretty face. 

he tsks before grumbling out a “nein.” he huffs before turning over. 

you pause, before scowling yourself. “what did you just say?” 

“nein.” he reiterates, closing his eyes. “goodnight.” 

you scoff, before shaking him again. “hey… seriously!” but it’s useless. kaiser’s decided it’s time for bed. truth be told, you should probably get some sleep too. but it’s annoying when you do feel like a side character in his story and not his co-lead. fine, you can be petty too. 

you round up your pillows, sighing and making sure to climb over him as you get off the bed. he catches your wrist as you try to leave, brow arched. 

“where are you going?” he asks, confused.

“the couch.” you deadpan. 

“why?” 

“i don’t wanna sleep next to someone who doesn’t love me.” you pout, hugging your pillow tightly. 

“it was a joke, liebe.” he sighs, pulling you down back into bed. “of course, i love you.” 

“hmm… you’re just pacifying me.” you say, hoping he’ll get the hint and finally give you some of the affection you’ve been craving. 

and he does, rolling his eyes before pressing a deep kiss to your lips. he makes sure to give you a few more afterwards, your giggle floating around his ears. “happy now?” 

“very.” you smile and he smiles back, but you can’t let him think he’s won just yet. “hey, i have a joke too.” 

“yeah? and you think it’s better than mine?” he teases and you grin even wider, nodding excitedly. “i’m all ears.” 

“okay. make sure you listen and like, really listen.” you command and he nods, moving his ear closer to your lips. “you’re a better player than isagi yoichi.” 

his face falls immediately and you burst out laughing, pushing off of him and grabbing your pillow again. you figure after your little stint, you’ll seriously be sleeping on the couch. 

“super funny, right? i should be a comedian.” you muse, before leaning down and giving him a peck on the cheek. “good night, emperor.” 

you turn to leave again, but kaiser’s quick to pull you down and underneath him. you yelp as he straddles you, pinning your wrists above your head. he’s frighteningly close, the tips of his blonde and blue hair hovering over your skin. 

there’s one thing about him that you don't know and it’s that he’ll never admit how soft you make him, how it’s actually he who melts at the sound of your voice. how it’s him who wants to hear nothing but endless praise from you, so maybe he did get a little mad at that joke.

“m-michael?” you squeak, squirming under his hold, “what are you doing?” 

“what do you mean? i’ve gotta remind you who the best striker in the world is.” he states and you recognize that look in his eyes. you didn’t think it’d rile him up this much. 

“babe, it was a joke!” 

he barks a laugh as you squirm harder underneath him. “it’s gonna be a long night, liebe.” 

oliver: 

“hey oliver, do you love me?” 

perhaps not the best time to ask, neon bright 3:00 AM displayed on your alarm clock lets you know that. but still, the beating of oliver aiku’s heart that drums through your ears prompts you to ask anyway. 

he’s asleep, or so you think, and shirtless, with the press of your cheek against his chest, his skin feels warm. shyly, you stay looking at the wall, sometimes trailing down to his limp hand. meanwhile, your fingers ghost over his skin, writing little “i love you”s and infinity signs like an incantation or a spell. 

“dumb question,” you continue, “i know you don’t.” you give a small smile, it’s how the situation between you two works. you can sleep together, hold hands, maybe even call each other ‘partners’, but you never breach that threshold. he’s always just out of reach.

but oliver is awake, eyes stirred open by the figure eights you’ve been writing on him. he’s been listening to you the entire time, eyes blinking up at the ceiling. 

“well… in case you were wondering, i think i love you,” you confess, your heart thumping wildly, “like a lot, actually. do you…  think i’m stupid?” you pause, before opening your mouth to say that he doesn’t have to answer, but oliver cuts you off. 

“not really.” he says, the hand that was resting on your waist, starting to stroke your skin. 

you freeze before pushing yourself up and off of him. “hey! h-how long have you been awake?” 

he smirks and you hate the way your heart flutters, “a while,” he sits up, “hey, i love myself too.” 

you deflate a little, it’s too much of the same, the same jokes and the brushing off of feelings. but you should know this by now, that he doesn’t love you. “yeah, just not me.” you look away, wishing he would lie to you just one time. “i should go-“ 

he reaches over, grabbing your chin between his fingers and leveling your gazes together. “i never said that.” 

you blink, wide-eyed and you’re not sure what to do or even what to say. and while you’re sure your heart is beating so fast you swear he can hear it, you’re also emboldened, mustering up the courage to ask, “never said what?” but your voice comes out small, whispery and featherlight. 

“that i don’t love you.” he says. he doesn’t break eye-contact, pretty two-tone eyes locked on yours. 

you can’t help your emotions, the way they swell up in you overwhelmingly, as if you’re drowning in them. 

“do you love me, oliver?” you’re too happy to be embarrassed by the break in your voice when you say his name, too fixated on the way he touches you so gently. it’s like he can’t hurt you now, no matter what he’s done before. 

he nods, the hand on your chin moving to cup your cheek as he strokes his thumb reassuringly over your skin. he catches the tears that fall, thinking that it’s much better to see you happy cry than when he does something stupid. 

“could you say it? please?” you sniffle, placing a hand over his, keening into his touch. 

he gives a breathy laugh out of nervousness, before he clears his throat and says it, loud and clear. “i love you, y/n.” 

you laugh through your tears, relieved, because all the time you spent wondering was okay and the wait was worth it. the way it rolls off his tongue is so natural and so warm it has your head spinning. 

he brings up his other hand, wiping away at the tears that continue to fall. “c’mon baby, you’re gonna cry all night?” he teases, squishing your cheeks between his hands. 

“‘m not dreaming?” you mumble, shaking your head, “this is real? you really love me?” 

maybe when you wake up in the morning it’ll be different. maybe he’ll be back to the same old oliver, the one who deflects and dodges all your questions. so maybe it is a dream. but, if this is a dream… do they always feel so good? and is it possible to stay asleep? 

he hums, before asking, “does this feel real?” as he leans in to press a kiss to your lips. it’s sincere and authentic, the kind that makes your heart bloom. he pulls away, but only slightly to rest his forehead against yours. you nod and he grins, “good.”

[massiveharmonytiger]

So I was rewatching Saltburn and I had an epiphany!

Farleigh is in love with Oliver.

Like, embarrassingly, stupidly, head over heels.

I mean, I knew he had a thing for Ollie, with the jealously telling Felix about him and Venetia, the Richard III would put in the work line followed by him being completely disarmed when Oliver suggests that he fucks him, and then the actual Oliver seducing him scene, but I only just realized the extent of it and how far back it goes.

First of all, Farleigh notices Oliver before Oliver sees Felix for the first time.

Yes, I got the script because I'm complete Saltburn trash at this point. So when Farleigh is introduced, the script describes him as beautiful and pansexual, walking among a group of alpha hotties. So in the film, he's with two hotties, a guy and a girl. He has his pick. There's no reason for him to point out Oliver or what he's wearing to them, unless he's trying to impress them, but why would Farleigh Start need to impress them? He's already the centre of that group. Sure the script also describes him as an imp with a cruel streak, but after rewatching I feel like that's a blatant misdirection. I mean, he got expelled for sucking off teachers. Nerdy prep is exactly his type.

He says, "Hey cool jacket," to Oliver. If you interpret that line as being delivered by the beautiful and pansexual Farleigh Start, not the impish and cruel Farleigh Start, it's pretty much a come on. I'm mixed race like Farleigh and it kind of reminds me of those back-handed compliments white people give you when they think you're hot or cute 'for a brown person.' It's kind of hilarious to see it subverted like this, but obviously Oliver is less amused. Why would he interpret it as anything other than more bullying? Which it kind of is, so fair enough. But it's the kind of bullying people do when they get a crush they don't know how to handle. A little boy pulling on a girls pigtails. And it's obviously worked for Farleigh before. Why would he need to try any harder than that?

After Farleigh's comment, Oliver sees Felix for the first time. Farleigh is also there, but Oliver's already smitten and doesn't really notice him beyond, "Oh, it's that jerk from earlier and he's next to Felix, where I should be." Then you get a few other bits that wreck me. Oliver ducking from the window when Felix looks up, Oliver trying to sit at Felix (and Farleigh)'s table at the mess hall, but being unable to, Michael causing the disruption, but it doesn't even interrupt Felix and Farleigh's conversation. (Which ties in nicely to my theory of how the original Oliver wouldn't have gotten Felix's attention even if he screamed, he had to mold himself into what Felix wanted just to get noticed, but one theory at a time).

Next up, we have the tutor session that Farleigh is late for. Before Farleigh gets there, Oliver is humiliated and belittled for completing the reading list, which dooms Farleigh even more when he shows up and the tutor starts fawning over him. Oliver doesn't know Farleigh and Felix are cousins yet. He's just the guy that was snide to Oliver when he first got there. The guy at Felix's side that Oliver keeps measuring himself against. So yeah, Oliver is pissed off before Farleigh gets there and that cute little knee touch isn't going to change anything.

Yes, Farleigh, I also count the amount of times my crush uses a word in their essay despite still being hungover from last night's party, just so that I have something to talk to him about… Oh wait, no, that's just you.

The way he looks up at Oliver with those big brown doe eyes when he says, "I counted". The way he keeps looking up to gauge his reaction to all his comments. The way he's looking at him, period.

And Oliver doesn't fall for his cuteness and charm because he's just convinced that the intent behind his words is malicious. Poor Farleigh. He must have been so confused. People usually fold but here's this guy, meeting him blow for blow. He's never had to "put in the work" like this. What the hell.

The tutor sessions with Oliver and Farleigh (where Farleigh is framed lower than Oliver) actually serve as a nice parallel to a lot of the scenes where Oliver and Felix are together (and Oliver is framed lower than Felix). We don't really see that when Farleigh and Felix are together. They're usually at a similar height in those scenes.

Then we have the scene in the bar where Felix calls Oliver over and Farleigh has that panicked, "Oh shit, my crush is here," look on his face before it settles into resignation as he realizes Oliver is, "another one of Felix's toys". Finally the mystery is solved. This is why Oliver didn't fall for his charms at the tutor sessions.

So, Oliver prefers Felix to him, huh. That's just fine. He'll deal with the rejection by giving Oliver a hard time about buying the next round. That should push him away from Felix…oh shit, it brings them closer together. And now he looks like the douchebag.

Then there's this bit where Farleigh is looking at Oliver and Felix (mostly Oliver, the prior shot establishes which side of the room he's on, which happens to be where Farleigh's looking) and his party hat horns mirror the minotaur/how Oliver looked when he confessed his love to Felix later on. Oliver, you need to see how much Farleigh fucking loves you. Look at him, Ollie. Just look at him. (He can't, he's too busy looking at Felix)

Anything to get Oliver to notice him. Anything.

Cut to Oliver's arrival at Saltburn, where Oliver joins the rest of them in the library and Farleigh loudly cuts off Elspeth gossiping about Oliver and his parents because hearing, "We were just talking about you" would be better than hearing whatever was going to come out of Elspeth's mouth next. And I mean, he's already the asshole. This is actually so sweet.

And we all remember this scene. This clearly made his day.

But then we get the encounter with Venetia and Felix and Farleigh both being equally pissed at the breakfast table. And yeah, everything goes downhill from there. It's the reason Oliver seduces him and gets him thrown out for what's literally just another desperate attempt to drive a wedge between Oliver and Felix.

No, Oliver, he's not going to behave. God, yes. Don't stop.

Farleigh was down so bad he literally got honeytrapped and framed. Twice.

Between Felix, Oliver and Farleigh, there are really no winners. They really all got wrecked by love, huh.

[hiorisgf]

↪the different ways the boys don't let you pay.

↪What's on your mind?: Actually I myself don't know where I'm going with this too. Heh.

Boyfriends who, whenever you're about to pay for something using your own card—he's always there to slap your hand away and give the cashier his instead. Where did you get the idea that he'd let you pay for even a single one of your outings? Well either way, you ought to wipe that thought away because he'll make sure you won't even get the chance to hold your wallet since e this man's already paid for everything. Bastard is unecessarily agressive in the way he refuses to let you pay like bae, why does he have to look at you like you just said the most offensive thing to him in his entire career of living when all you just said is 'let me pay'😭😭

Itoshi Rin, Itoshi Sae, Chigiri Hyoma, Barou Shouei, Kurona Ranze

Loverboys that Immediately gets the wrong idea. Baby thinks he's done something wrong when you offer to split the bill. Like sir. What😃. WHY WOULD YOU EVEN THINK THAT. You have to assure him that he hasn't done anything wrong and that you just want to lessen his expenses because the dates have got to be expensive. Especially with how fancy the places he takes you to are 😭 But after you assure him that he's fine, that you aren't mad at him and all that, and he finally understands what you mean—this cute little bastard dares to go and give you the sweetest smile humanity would ever witness and lovingly tell you, "No."

Isagi Yoichi, Mikage Reo, Niko Ikki

Beloved little shits that would never miss the chance to take your wallet and hide it from you if ever an opportunity presented itself. He does it so that when you'd take your wallet to pay for the meal—only to realize that you've lost it, you'd have no choice but to rely on him to pay for it instead. Too busy wallowing yourself in embarrassment and the feeling of guilt, you fail to notice the small smirk that appears on his everloving face as he inwardly celebrates the success of his plans. HAH. YOU REALLY THOUGHT. Ehem. Now, dearest—just take a seat back and relax as he spoils the way you deserve to be pampered <3 (Also if you're worried about your wallet then he'd return it after the date's finished with that shit eating grin of his you'd like to punch)

Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness, Bachira Meguru, Oliver Aiku

Pretty, loveable liars who'd gladly allow you to pay for the next meal with a smile on his fave. He chuckles and lovingly looks at you as you adorably pump your fists up in the air. Money in hand, you head to the cashier to pay for the two of you when suddenly the cashier decided to be a not so nice person when they reveal with a smile that the gentleman behind you,(which also happened to be your lover) had already paid for yours and his meal. You look at him, utterly and pitifully betrayed. Your lips turn into a pout as you look at him with watery eyes. And for a moment, they actually feel guilty about not letting you pay for this time.

Hiori Yo, Yukimiya Kenyu, Kunigami Rensuke

[bucksboobs]

Takeaways:

He talks a lot about developing a proper American accent which is really cute but also he changes his accent for work in Britain.

He does his auditions fully in an American accent from the moment he walks in the door and then “jumpscares” with his natural accent at the end because he doesn’t want his accent work to be the focus of his auditions.

They have had conversations on set about 911 going on for up to 20 seasons

He doesn’t know if Fox would have let Buck be bi but it might also be down to Tim Minear coming back as Showrunner

Oliver has always played Buck as always seeking “something” in his life and when Tim asked him about making Buck bi he said “yes, that’s the thing he’s been looking for.”

Firefighters who aren’t out have messaged Oliver to tell him how huge this story is for them. 😭

He auditioned for Buck in sweats and a hoodie and knew he was giving a version of Buck that was going to stand out

Oliver says there are kisses later on that are initiated by Buck

He fanboys about Angela Bassett crushing it.

He’s really confused why Buck being bi would be the breaking point when Michael coming out was the literally first scene of the show

The water tanks used for the tsunami were built for Titanic.

The most emotional rescue for Oliver was the police horse dying in 207 because he’s such an animal lover

Most background firefighters are actual retired firefighters

He gets fanmail from parents with kids with port wine stains on their faces about Buck giving them confidence.

Oliver was scared Buck would get killed off after season 1 because that’s what happened to his character in Into The Badlands

His Into The Badlands character was originally written as gay

He’s “open” to Buddie but he doesn’t think it should happen right away

[sammygender]

i think im officially an ats fan. something just clicked

[eipkyt61066666]

𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔♥︎

Note: Hope you enjoy! No reposts please!!!!!!

𝑺𝒂𝒆: Sae isn't romantic and doesn't express his love really often, but when he does it's really sweet. He is really gentle with you and that shows by the way his hands gently caress your cheeks and waist while he kisses you softly.

𝑨𝒊𝒌𝒖: Oliver is experienced and that shows by the way he kisses you. He'd hold you tight while pressing his body against yours, big hands gripping your body roughly.

𝑵𝒂𝒈𝒊: Nagi is really layed back and doesn't put much effort into physical touch. He would normally just relax his body on top of yours and kiss your forehead while doing soo. Your boyfriend also does that cute thing where he rubs his head on yours.

𝑹𝒊𝒏: Rin really cares for you and he prefers to express it through physical touch rather then words. He would kiss your lips passionately while holding one of your hands loving and the other either on your cheek or neck.

𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒐𝒖: Shidou likes to make you embarrassed. He would sneak up behind you and nib your ear or kiss your neck. He isn't scared of being flashy with it.

𝑲𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒓: Michael maintains his royal feel even in the relationship. Perceived as an emperor and you his empress. He maked every kiss passionate and loving. It really shows how much of an importance you hold in his life. In between kisses, Kaiser likes to whisper words showing how much he loves you.

[nyursi]

𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐘!

꒰ † ੭‎ㅤNSFW 18+ㅤ(MDNI)...  oliver never thought that arriving at saltburn would leave a much more deep and sinister ache in his bones. and it's all because of you. felix is no better.ㅤノㅤnot proofread.

ᡴꪫ‎ TODAY'S SPECIAL!ㅤfelix catton, oliver quick.

WOULD YOU LIKE SPRINKLES? (っω=`)ㅤm!rdr, no spoilers surprisingly, weird stuff cause its oliver (but felix is weird too), wet dreams, stealing underwear, drugging, groping, somnophilia.

                 ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

It was alluring, really. Who could say no to the gorgeous stone walls of the castle? With its very own glamorous inhabitants to match as well. Saltburn practically begged Oliver to come and take it all for himself.

And who was he to deny that call?

Felix Catton too, bore the same charisma. The boy always had everyones eyes on him, no matter the place or time. There was just something about him that grabbed all the attention.

Like a magnet, attracting all the girls and boys to present themselves just to gain a spot in Felix's long list of night stands.

So when Felix so graciously offered for Oliver to spend the summer with him, how could he say no?

He felt so fulfilled, seeing the extravagant hallways, walls lined with all the odd things they had, and the majestic carpets complementing the floor. But nothing ever compared to the feeling that hit him like a truck when he met you.

It was unexpected. There was a quick panic that you, of all people, would ruin his plans, to conquer the estate and banish all the Catton's from existence. I mean, who were you? A relative? Close friend? Surely someone important enough for Elspeth and Sir James to let you stay.

"This is my friend," Felix introduced, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, having noticed the tension between you two. Despite the awkwardness filling the air; you excitedly held out your hand for Oliver to shake. "How come I've never seen you around?" He asked.

You shrugged, "I don't go to Oxford."

Oliver must've not realized how tight his grip had been on your hand, not until you struggled to pull away. Felix smirked in amusement. "Now now, play nice Oliver. He's fragile, and I'd prefer my little friend to be in good condition at all times."

"Felix!" You groaned, nudging against his chest. Rolling your eyes playfully, you shook your head and looked to Oliver. "Don't listen to him, roughhouse all you want." The sweet smile reached your eyes, but the words that accompanied it were venomous. "He did it all the time when we were little. Actually, he still does."

Oh. So you two were close.

He didn't know why, but it left a rather bitter taste in his mouth. Was it because you were close with Felix? Or because Felix was close with you?

Either way, Oliver quickly realized that it just made sense for both of you to be friends. You were a warm light that drew everyone closer, huddling for the warmth you gave so generously. With your attractive physique to accompany such a bright personality made Oliver's heart flutter in a way that made him unsure. (Not to mention that cute boyish smile you had on your face nearly 24/7.)

Had you attended Oxford too— he was sure you and Felix would be a duo no one could forget. A package deal, he'd say.

Oliver found it uncomfortable how quick you were able to get on his good side. You were just so... likeable. In a way that whenever you and Felix would mess around, he found it endearing.

Two utterly perfect boys with the most perfect relationship. Everyone in Oxford would kill to be you.

But Oliver would kill to take Felix's place.

And that thought shocked him; Oliver never thought there would ever be someone else to hold on pedestal, higher than the throne Felix sat on. Because he wanted that closeness, the intimacy of your so called friendship, your very being down to your bones.

He was desperate to have your attention, to join in your silly little inside jokes that Oliver could never understand, to be the reason of your giggles and reddened cheeks from laughter, how your chest heaved with every intense howl deep from your chest, not Felix.

It's not like he didn't notice Felix's unwavering affection towards you. It almost made Oliver chuckle out loud, the first time he found out how enamored Felix was with the boy he wanted to get rid of.

He didn't know he'd too, join the bandwagon of steadfast interest towards Felix's friend. (Boy toy, Oliver wanted to say. But with how platonic you are with him, he doubts the godsend Felix ever had a chance to devour you.)

No worries, Oliver will just take things in his own hands. He'll handle these pressing matters, like how he always has and always will. It's just in his nature. He may never be the strongest, or most attractive in the room, but he sure is the smartest.

Hell— he's definitely the most intelligent amongst those in Saltburn. That's for sure.

You were just incredibly dumb. Gullible, naive— too trusting. Too ready to welcome the outsider Oliver Quick within the estate, who looked like he was attempting to take and seal away Felix from ever seeing you again.

Did you really not feel their burning gazes on your body? Whenever you donned the awfully tight swim shorts at the pond; neither could pull away their eyes because of how it hugged your frame. Showing off the curve of your hips and your behind, displaying a waist that they wanted to grab so badly, and thighs that could be stared at for days.

The exposed skin glistening with water under the burning sun, messy wet hair that clung to your forehead. Plump red lips that encased a popsicle, suckling and even poking your tongue out to lick your fingers when the melted treat slowly dribbled down them.

Perhaps you did know, and this was your own way of teasing them for a stunt they pulled a few nights before. Revenge.

That night, when you wore such careless attire, one that consisted of a large shirt that practically engulfed your frame (one that Oliver knew to be Felix's), and the sinful boxers that held your prick just behind the fabric, Oliver took a trip to the laundry room.

Imagine his shock when he found Felix Catton digging through your laundry basket that held the same boxers from the night before.

A solidarity formed between them that night. A relationship deeper than before. Oliver was just as in love with you as Felix was.

But it killed them to see how oblivious you were with their intentions.

Weren't they trying hard enough?

It came to the point where they were desperate enough to consider drugs. Of all things. The family would all have dinner as usual, but a simple slip of an extra ingredient would be placed into your food.

"Are you alright, dear?" Elspeth asked, concerned from the other side of the table.

Felix quickly came to your rescue, standing up and dragging you to your bedroom. "He might be ill, we'll take care of him." He met eyes with Oliver, who didn't hesitate to join his side. "I'll see to it that he recovers smoothly." And without a second thought, they both left to carry you to Felix's bedroom.

You groaned, the pounding in your skull too much to handle. But Felix talked you through it all the way. Legs too weak to get up the stairs? No worries, they've got that covered. Neither complained when they're able to get this close to your warm body.

"Atta boy," Felix praised, slowly lowering you on his bed. Oliver placed the back of his hand to your forehead, wincing at its temperature.

"That's not a side effect, is it?" Their motives were ultimately changed when you kept writhing on the bed, uncomfortable at the heat and ache throughout your body. You felt sick. This was not part of the plan.

Felix scoffed. "Of course not." He turned to you, frowning when you sobbed. "We'll just... change plans."

There was no doubt to it. Your current state was not to their liking to continue their original ideas, and its not like it was helping with their... guilt. Thinking back on it, they've realized that their original plan was rather unsavory.

It made them look like hypocrites.

After all, they've been wanting and needing you to dream of them as well. Countless nights spent under the sheets behind the safety of their doors, jacking off and wishing it was your hole around their cocks, not their fists.

The wet dreams of you being so good for them, taking them all at once— or the times when they peaked through the bathroom door to watch you showering, and purposefully breaking your doorknob so they can barge in your room whilst you were getting dressed, those they could play off.

But to take you, unsolicited whilst your mind was hazy, was against all their fantasies. They wanted you to want them the same way. With the same desperation, the same debauchery.

So they let you be for now.

The late night fantasies that constantly replayed in their head would be enough. For your sake. Because if they allowed the strong, primal urge to pounce and take you as you were; the bed is where you'd live.

But it doesn't mean the urge was gone.

Oh no, it was very much still there.

So when your soft snores reached their ears, they wasted no time to climb under the sheets, with you between their aching bodies. And no matter how hard they tried to shoo away the dark thoughts nagging at the back of their heads, it still found a way to hypontize them.

It was a golden opportunity. You were sick, yes. But you were still drugged. Fast asleep. Deep into dreamland. How could they pass it up?

Oliver bit his lip and maintained eye contact with Felix. What were they to do? Felix stayed in deep contemplation, but was quickly surprised when Oliver made the first move.

He quickly raised your shirt up to your collarbone, breath stuck in his throat when he was met with your nipples. Oliver traced your chest with his finger, featherlight as he felt your soft skin for the first time.

And shit, did it feel great.

Felix on the other hand, took a more bold approach. Kissing at your nape while massaging his hand down your spine, towards your waistband. He tugged at first, but eventually settled on sneaking his palm beneath your boxers to feel the sweet mounds of flesh he's been dreaming of.

They groped and touched, feeling up every inch of you. No nook or cranny was left un-corrupted by their sinful hands. Slowly, their cocks hardened and they threw away all rational thoughts (Though there were none to begin with, really. Did anyone think rationally when they were in your presence?) Beginning to hump and palm at your own crotch.

Your drowsy whines and hums brought them closer to release. Even in your sleep you managed to be oblivious, unknowing to the dirty acts they commit. Hips bucking and stuttering, breath hitching, the creaking of the bed.

Whispered cussing and lip biting, red marks littered across your skin with their harsh grabbing. It was only after they reached their peak had all your breaths labored, you probably just thought it was a really good dream.

Oliver and Felix began to feel their eyelids get heavy. Even if they didn't get what they originally wanted, at least they got a taste of it. And fuck did they want more.

But no matter, there was always next time.

vanillaclaws 2024.ㅤdo not repost.

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[pr0fessional-cunt]

cattonquick headcanons

[🫶🏽]

- oliver is such a little manipulator. he likes to look up at felix a certain way and give him puppy eyes just to make the older boy cave in

- height difference. felix likes to reach over oliver and grab stuff off of shelves for him

- felix files everything oliver likes into his mind for later

- oliver buys a bottle of felixs’ fav cologne just to spray it on a pillow and cuddle with it

- felix sometimes doodles on olivers hand while they laze around

- oliver has to resist biting felix, his cuteness aggression is so bad

- felix cried at the end of “the fox and the hound,” which lead to oliver comforting him

- oliver is actually good with a stripper pole for some reason?? he can spin himself around quite well, people are genuinely impressed by it

- oliver is the type of mf to doodle “felix + oliver” and “oliver catton” in his notebook

- one time felix was so drunk oliver had to unzip his pants for him.

- oliver likes stronger drinks while felix likes fruity ones

- so much domestic touching. felix always has a hand on oliver; wether it be his shoulder, his thigh, or his waist

- felix likes to play with the hair at the nape of oliver’s neck

- felix will find things that remind him of oliver and text him about it

- oliver and felix are the “introvert the extrovert adopted” duo

- felix takes a digital camera everywhere. most of the sd card memory are photos of oliver

- oliver hates movies with jumpscares, and so does felix. they spend the movie huddled on one corner of the couch

- felix is possessive, in such a subtle way. he likes to hog oliver to himself

- oliver is a literature nerd. he loves classic books, especially frankenstein

- felix honestly loves that he’s olivers closest (only) friend

- felix: he asked for no pickles

oliver: 🧍🏻

- oliver blushes easily, the tips of his ears turn bright red

- felix likes to let oliver borrow his clothes just so he can see the younger man swimming in his shirts

- felix loves house parties, oliver is just along for the ride

- oliver often finds himself fixing felix’s hair or his clothes, making sure everything is correct

[itostea]

bllk boys with a shy!reader pt. 2 (rin, nagi, & oliver)

warnings: suggestive!! 

rin: 

I feel like Rin finds you really cute

you’re in the middle of eating some cookies and a few crumbs land on your cheek

rin sighs and wipes your cheek gingerly, making a few remarks here and there but most of his insults are half-hearted

but when he leans closer and cups your face you just completely malfunction 💀💀

no thoughts at all.

and he leans back to gauge your wide-eyed look and see how look of surprise paints your face

he can literally hear how loud is heartbeat from just seeing that

his thoughts are just “oh shit that’s cute” as he just stares at you with a blank-eyed look 

like i kid you not, he’s just stone-faced while his mind is just screaming at how cute you are

you have to say his name multiple times to grab his attention but all he does is just lean in and kiss you

the kiss gets more intense and you’re like why is he acting like this all of a sudden 😭😭

he just leans away after that and goes “sorry” then leans in for another kiss

yeah. idk. he’s very touchy in private

whenever you get nervous and hide behind him, he just gives your hand a squeeze and kisses the top of your head

the first time his team saw him do that, they went 😯😯😯

he’s so soft for you he doesn’t even care that they made fun of him for a month straight 

rin isn’t very verbal when he is, it is always worth it for the both of you

especially for him

the first time he said “i love you,” you completely exploded and couldn’t maintain a single conversation with him

it was so amusing to him that he couldn’t help but chuckle, the sight making you watch in awe

anyways… he finds you very cute, like seriously. He’d do anything for you 

nagi: 

I feel like he acts oblivious to how easily flustered you are just so he could tease the shit out of you

he does it so naturally too 😭😭

believe it or not, I 100% believe this man would make a bunch of dirty jokes just to get a reaction out of you

you’re just so meek when he says dirty things so forgive him!! 

one time you weren’t paying attention to him because you were reading a book and he just took it away from you, watching as you jumped on your feet to try to reach it

“Sei just give it to me already!”

“Huh? Hmm maybe tonight.”

he said that so casually that you didn’t catch the innuendo until a few minutes later 

the moment you realized, he just shrugged and gave an amused smile 

“I didn’t say anything weird, pretty… you’re just dirty-minded” 

yeah… 💀💀

okay other than the dirty jokes and stuff… he’s understanding once you tell him that you’re pretty shy around people

he usually prefers being alone so he can empathize but he doesn’t push you to be more social

oh yeah prepare for surprise hugs 

let’s say you’re cooking up a snack or meal and all of a sudden, you find his arms circle your waist, his breath hitting your neck as he says “i’m home”

GOWNIRFQ2E[FP ?!

he’s also the type of guy to suddenly pick you up and put you on a table so he can rest on your lap

it's literally heaven for him.

he gets to see your flustered expression AND be at peace laying on your lap

so yeah.

get used to his displays of physical affection 💀💀💀💀

oliver:

oh man he’s going to love teasing you (in an affectionate way ofc)

he’s met his fair share of women and you’re the only one who’s actually tugged on his heart strings 

he thinks you’re the cutest! your meekness just brings him at ease

bro is a womanizer but he realized he had to settle down with you! like he’d be a fool not to

it happened when you were getting nervous going to a party and meeting new people 

he loves you but he was literally just admiring how good you looked in your dress 

you’re rambling and he’s just smiling because he loves when you’re open with him

but then you gaze at him with a bashful smile and say “but since you’re going i wanna go so…” 

he lowkey just stared before he was like “okay yeah i’m marrying you”

and you’re like “HUHHH????” while he’s like… “did i stutter? we’re getting married 🤨”

he’s just really soft around you

HOWEVER… like i stated before he’s gonna love teasing you

like ygs will be kissing on the couch with him hovering above you and he’ll lean in before he just stops, grinning at you coyly

you’d be sighing all meek and stuff, trying to lean closer but he just laughs 

“you gotta tell me what you want baby.” 

HE’S SUCH A TEASE UGH

and when you finally ask him to kiss you again, he goes in for a quick peck, leaning back up with a toothy grin

you’d stare at him and impulsively ask “that’s all?” and he’d just go “that’s all? what, you want more?” knowing damn well yes 😐😐😐

trying to pull him down doesn’t work either bc this man is REALLY jacked 

when he gets his fill with teasing you, he’ll just lean down and shush you with a kiss

and he makes sure it’s a kiss. the type of kiss where a hand slides down your waist while another cups your face. that kind of kiss 😩😩😩😩😩😩

once he pulls away and gauges your expression, seeing how you couldn’t even think straight and look and him, he just pats your cheek

“thought you wanted more?”

don’t take his teasing too seriously… he’s doing it bc he’s in love and that’s his love language 💀💀💀

[undercoverpena]

8. dark olive

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter eight of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.9k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. bad tool names. frankie has a little panic attack as he shares canon things. an: this one would be called the revelation.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Rounding the corner, hands pushing the cart, you spot him immediately. Hands busy, comparing two types of tape in the middle of the aisle he’d left your side for.

Fuck, the tape looks so small in his hands.

A thought you're quick to shake out, eyes glazing past items on the shelves as you wander to him.

This store is so different from the one you met him in—the one he works in. Even if the circumstances feel oddly similar. Him, down an aisle; you, hopelessly and completely out of your comfort zone, still struggling to understand what it is you're here for.

It also smells different here. The place is a lot brighter, the lights above gleaming—newer, more LED than bulb—and the floor has little to no stains. You’d also noticed that the paint tins live across several aisles, with more colours than you thought possible.

Mostly, you miss Harold.

Oddly, for saying you’d rarely been there, you feel like you’re cheating on him. Almost betraying Harold's Hardware by being inside this larger, more fancier store.

A thing which tugs at the corner of your lips when you come to a stop near him. Finding Frankie turning his chin, wearing a puzzled look across his ridiculously handsome face. One that almost makes you break out into a smile, instead choosing to drag your tongue across your bottom lip as you inhale—trying not to let your eyes drop from his loose curls to his dark jeans.

“Do you feel like you’re cheating?” you ask, voice dropping as you come to a stop next to him, watching as he simultaneously places one tape back and one in the cart as he moves around to where your forearms are resting. “Because we’re shopping in a store that isn’t yours.”

Sliding his fingers under your chin as you straighten, making it easier to slide his mouth over yours.

Smirking, you bite your lip. “I feel like he’s going to know—Harold. He’ll smell it on you.”

“He’s not a vampire.”

“Could be. Instead of blood, it’s wood chippings and—”

Fingers crawling up your cheek, you catch the whisper of shh before he kisses you.

An attempt made to steal your breath, a thing you allow him to take willingly, practically handing him all you have in your lungs as your smirk and thoughts fade. At the feel of his hand sliding around you, you melt. Hands sliding from the cart to his face, feeling the fuzz of his hair against your palm, the smile that adorns his face against your mouth as you do all you can to hold back a moan in the middle of a tool and supplies aisle.

“Morales,” you warn as your mouth parts from his, catching the sound of him groaning—even from the back of his throat.

Tongue peeking through his teeth he snorts. “Morales? Ay?”

“Butterscotch in the sheets, Morales in the streets.”

Even if he shakes his head, you spot how soft his eyes are—all adorned with mischief, love. A sight you can't get over as it does a good job of making your heart flutter, especially as he continues to stroke your cheek—his calloused thumb dragging back and forth in gentle movements.

One he woke you up with the other day; one he does when he can tell your heart is racing quicker than your worries.

Fuck, you like him.

A lot.

His thumb still drags along your cheek as you think as much, as he sighs—all faint, with ease. As though he’s thinking something similar. Or maybe, you're just hoping.

“I think it's our little secret,” he murmurs.

His hand slides down, brushes down your body before he reaches for another item on the shelf. Not even looking—just knowing.

And, for the third time since being in here, it makes you warm. Makes you hot. It makes you want to drag him back to his truck and ask him to park it somewhere out of sight.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you smile, hands finding the cart again. “I just…”

“You just?”

Running your tongue over your teeth, you lift your chin. “I don’t know how you just… do things, sometimes. You’re so—”

“Handsome?”

“—Competent.”

Narrowing his eyes, he tries not to smirk. You can tell. Giving you that look—the one he gave you in your kitchen, in the aftermath of when he almost choked on his juice, when you said you had breakfast he could eat. Meaning eggs. Even if the two of you burnt them doing something far more fun.

“Do you like that, Rainy?” You try not to warm at the pet name, at the nickname that’s grown to have more meaning than your own. “That I’m competent?”

Grabbing the cart, you nudge it into him. “Stop.”

Smirking, he winks, adding a noted before he begins leading you. The two of you weave through the aisles, mundane items ending up in the cart—the mess of things all rolling around the metal frame. On occasion, he mumbles something before scratching his forehead with the back of his hand, while you hover, not at all sure if he's naming a product or just making up words.

And, you just admire.

Completely in awe as he calculates something and then looks at you—like you’re the answer. Or because he knows now that it somehow turns you on.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?”

Rolling your lips, you shake your head, watching him add more things to buy.

“Twice, actually.”

Pulling a face, and moving closer, he hooks a finger around the loop of your jeans. “Doesn’t feel enough.”

“No?”

Shaking his head, you stare at him—right into his eyes, falling into them. “We should go pay.”

He smiles at you, the corners of his lips curling into something more as he nods his head and leads you to pay—joining an empty checkout.

"Same time next week?" he asks.

“Are you making these hardware dates with me a regular thing?”

“Why not? Maybe we can visit them all—I know some guys take girls to new cities or towns, but I wanna show you all the hardware stores.”

Laughing, you watch him empty everything, shooting you a grin each time he grabs something else from the cart until it empties.

Then, you bite the inside of your cheek when he goes to grab his wallet, fumbling for it. Your eyes spot it, that line—the one you love to smooth out with your palm—and how it begins to deepen. Moving from your place as you slide your phone out, ass brushing against him as you mumble that you’ll get this one.

It’s only when you hear the distinct beep of the payment, that you look over your shoulder. “You didn’t lose it,” you announce, watching him pause, face smoothing out. “Your wallet.”

Hands pause on the back of his jeans, he stops.

“It’s here,” you continue, patting the pocket of your jacket, “But, I’ll let you buy me lunch if you want?”

The cashier chuckles, hearing it, distantly, something about your girlfriend is funny—even if you’re focused on him, on how his eyes soften and his lips have curled into a grin.

We should think about constructing your shelving soon.

Good afternoon to you too, baby. That sounds fun. How do we do that?

Hello baby. I’m thinking, as it’s entirely bespoke that we get some drawers from IKEA, but the shelves above we make ourselves.

Does this mean you’re going to show me how to use power tools?

Yeah, sure. Probably be safer at mine, then I can transport them over to yours when we’re done?

Sounds good to me. So, an IKEA date?

Yeah. That can be next week's Hardware trip.

Oh, how you spoil me.

You know it, hermosa.

I still need to pick a paint, right?

Yes, you thought about any of the swatches you’ve done?

Frankie answers in record speed, your back leaning against the wall—staring at the now smooth wall the two of you had gotten pristine.

“Thought this would be easier.”

“Admit you missed my voice.”

Fighting a groan at the sound of the way he lowered his voice, you flex your toes in your socks. “You’re getting awfully big-headed, Butterscotch.”

Snorting, you hear a crash from his end of the phone, and the distinct sound of the phone being brought away before he shouts to Luca.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s building the equivalent of Jurassic World in my living room.”

Smirking, you lick your lips. “You sound thrilled.”

“Tim and Vinnie needed a home. And, it’s cruel of Daddy to make them homeless—”

Nodding, you glance at the swatches as you listen. Eyes flicking over taupes and golden yellows, over soft pinks and sea blues, but you keep being drawn back to one shade each time.

One that makes you linger, before gazing away from it—hesitant, somehow. The reasoning is half-known, yet you don’t want to unfold or unravel it properly.

Because you know why you like it—why you’re drawn to it.

Why it makes you want to smile, why it makes you feel at ease and calm, safe—

“—Is that your friend, Daddy?”

“Luca—”

“Hello, Daddy’s friend!”

His voice, all little and high-pitched—almost out of breath, as you imagine him running—makes your heart flicker, managing to croak back a, “Hi there.”

“My name is Luca and I’m—Daddy no—”

Your hand comes up to your mouth, grinning behind your fingers as you hear giggles and little screams. Frankie’s voice jokingly calls out that he’s a little monster—the phone clanging and clattering before the most joyous sound of two laughs blending into one before you’re picked up from whatever place you’d fallen to.

“I’m back.”

“Hi, baby.”

Sighing, he apologises, “Where were we?”

“Olive green. I like olive green.”

He makes a noise, one that you can’t help but think he’s surprised by.

“What—green is growing on me,” you add.

And he makes a different noise, one you suspect is married to a smile—a grin. One you’re pretty sure you’re mirroring neighbourhoods away, as you hear Luca in the background cheer at the sound of another crash.

So, I know you mentioned us going out for dinner tonight, but I wondered if I could interest you in something else.

I’m intrigued.

Well, you said you were still sore from training yesterday with Ben and I know you’ve been doing extra at the store, so how about UNO and pizza?

Baby, I promised you I’d take you out.

And you are. From my kitchen counter to my living room.

Is this what you really want?

Yes. Please.

I'm starting to think you don't like going out.

Why would I want to share you with more eyes, Morales?

Let me bring pizza then.

I guess I can agree to that.

Throwing down the last card, cheering, you watch him scowl—the few UNO cards he had left thrown down onto the table as you grab another slice of pizza. Wearing your win on your face, letting it descend like mist to your shoulders, hips as you do a little wiggle—all cross-legged on your living room floor.

He, on the other hand, huffed in faux annoyance, a glint in his eyes—the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Best out of three?” he proposes, already reaching forward and shuffling the deck with a smirk.

“You know you’ve lost two already.”

“Best out of seven then.”

And so, the game continues. Frankie on your sofa, leaning forward over the coffee table—surrounded by the remnants of pizza and scattered UNO cards. The glow from your lamp cascaded over the room, his curls teased and pulled on as he lost another game.

“Alright, cheat. Last round,” he declares.

As the game unfolds, you can't help but feel so incredibly happy. Just being here, with him. It's a simple night, nothing fancy, yet it feels more special than any other night with any other people.

You don’t even mind that he wins the last round, rolling your eyes at the triumphant grin on his face. “Told you I could beat you,” he gloats, gathering up the cards.

You roll your eyes, but there's a smile on your face. "Alright, alright, don't let it get to your head," you tease, unfolding your legs as you stand, grabbing the plates and napkins.

After everything is tidied up, you both settle down on the couch, snuggling into each other. His arm wraps around you, pulling you close to his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting out a content sigh.

“Thank you for tonight,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You look up at him, a soft smile on your face. “I had a great time.”

“Because you won?”

“Because I won.”

He swallows, shaking his head lightly as he stares at you—as you purse your lips and think about throwing your legs up over his. Heart doing a steady skip, the longer you stare, mouth opening to ask if he wants to stay when his opens and beats you to it.

“I want you to meet Luca.”

Face softening, your eyes widen to match the smile spreading over your face. “Yeah? You do?”

Nodding, he runs his knuckles over your chin. “I talked to Sam—Samantha. ‘Cause I wanted to make sure she was okay with it, y’know?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t want to do it without her being okay with it.”

Smiling, his hand drops to your knee, drawing a square. “You’re also… the first person,” he adds, nose scrunching as the words wash over you.

“Oh. Well, Frankie, I’d love to meet him. When you’re ready.”

His eyes drop, and you feel it—the air shift, something changing—before he clears his throat again. Retracing his hand, the heel of his palm runs across his forehead, and your heart’s pattern changes, and alters.

A dread falls out, sliding down over your skin, cooling the warmth that had been steadily growing all evening.

“But,” he swallows, fingers brushing over your knee. “I need to tell you something first.”

It’s quiet, the okay that escapes. That slithers out and spreads its fingers towards him. A panic rising in you, twisting—knotting. It makes you want to clear your throat, swallow, and do all you can to make it shift, but you can feel it pulsing, waiting.

Swallowing again, you spot Frankie’s hands twitching nervously. "Remember I told you about when I helped a friend—the dangerous thing?”

Eyes flicking, watching his hand lock over the other—fingers moving back and forth, scratching, eyes on you like a hawk as you nod, bracing yourself.

“Well…”

And it falls out of him. Listening, even over your racing heart—taking it in, as much as you can, more than bits and pieces, but not confident the full thing is reaching your brain.

You match the names of his friends to the ones you met, two shadows forming in the picture he paints—briefly wondering if they were in the photo at his, if they were people you’d heard about before, and never known. Hearing names like Ironhead and Pope, not realising until a second later explanation of who they were.

The more he spills, the more panicked his voice becomes—the more breath he attempts to take in. As though it's been shoved somewhere inside of him, crammed in a space too large, it bursting out of him now. All visibly affecting him, making his hand continue to scratch, nails digging deeper into the other. Red lines appear, clawing into the back of his hand as he continues on, and on—

“Frankie, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I do, baby. I do because—” he chokes, a sob there—likely bubbling and unwilling to burst in his throat, eyes shimmering, swimming in unspent tears, “—I made a rushed call, and… and my friend—“

“Frankie.”

“He died.”

It feels like you’ve been hit in the chest.

A hand reaching in, twisting in past your ribs. A tightness that had been turning and shifting, suddenly explodes, leaving you breathless. Your mouth falls open, thoughts empty as you simply stare, blinking.

Not because of what he said, but because you knew it before he said it. Before he confesses the next thought, which you had a feeling had been eating him alive since he first began—

“And it was my fault.”

Your heart breaks, shatters for him.

Worsened by the way his words catch on his teeth as he shakes his head, as a tear falls down his cheek—as his nails continue to scratch, and scratch, more words tumbling out from his tongue.

The weight of his confession presses down on you, a suffocating force that threatens to crush your spirit. The air is heavy in the room, charged with sorrow and regret, his eyes encased in torment as his skin begins to peel apart—a raw wound laid bare, both metaphorically and literally.

“—and if I hadn’t crash landed, if I hadn’t taken the shot, if I hadn’t—“

If I hadn’t. If I hadn’t.

If I hadn’t.

The words are balled up, dropping out—followed by other things. Failings, all of them. Ones that have rippled inside of him for longer than you care to think about; them all likely rotted, become a mass of heavy regrets that have clung to the inside of his chest.

You whisper his name, but it’s like calling out a person in the centre of a stadium full of noise.

It’s swallowed, smothered. Barely reached his ears as you want to reach out and touch him, to centre him, bring him back to you. In all the ways he does so with you.

“—It's why I couldn’t fly, why I took the job, why… she left me.” His eyes snap to you, all clear, focused—unlike they’d been a moment ago. “You deserve to know—to choose, to know who you're with. ‘cause I fuck up. I fucked up and I took a man from his kids. I lost my head, I just needed to get out and I—”

Eyes flicking to his hand, you stand up, all suddenly, forcing his voice to trail off as he stares up at you. The room falls quiet as big, brown weeping eyes watch you shift your weight from side to side.

He looks lost, floating in a sea of pain that’s drowning him, that he can’t kick up from as he tries to keep swimming.

And he says your name. All broken, the edges of it chipped—cracked and fractured.

It’s quick, the way you mumble one minute before moving into your kitchen. The way you scramble for the green box, knocking over bottles of cleaning products and bleach as you hear him crumble, as the sound worms in your chest and cracks you. Hearing it, the distinct sound of shit and the way he curses himself for fucking up.

You barely shut the cupboard behind you when you’re moving back to him, seeing him panicked, gasping for breath between sobs. Sorries echoing, vibrating out. They're all a mashing of words and syllables, yet you can discern every single one as you drop back beside him.

Watching him try to shift away, your hand grabs his—quicker, smothering out over the one that sits on top of the one he’s scratched.

“Breathe. In, and out.”

Your name slithers out, between gasps and shakes.

“In for four, that’s it—then we hold for seven, like me—and exhale. Good. Again.”

Watching him come down, settle—ease falling out over him as you hold his hand, grip it, hold him so tight so he knows you’re not going anywhere.

“You don’t have to—”

“I just needed to get this,” you soothe, grabbing the first aid kit, placing it between the two of you. “You… you’ve cut yourself, baby.”

Swallowing, he blinks—either at the name, or the softness of your tone—before he glances down.

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” you say, a double meaning.

Opening the kit, pulling out antiseptic and bandages, feeling him watch you as you gently clean his wounds, his breath hitching when the antiseptic stings, but he doesn't pull away. Not even when you ask if he's talked to someone, or when he nods, when he explains that he had to, that he hadn't been able to sleep and he was worried about having a baby overnight.

Frankie doesn't move even after you’ve cleaned it, or when you softly bandage it. Your fingers move with precision, all the while careful not to press too hard.

When you're done, you let your hand linger on his, your thumb gently rubbing over the bandages. You meet his gaze, seeing nothing but pain—wishing you could light a flicker of hope, do something to ease it.

“I need you to hear me say something, Frankie. Can you do that or would you prefer I wait?" you ask, voice steady, even though your heart pounds in your chest.

Waiting. Waiting.

Waiting.

Swallowing, he averts his eyes. “Yeah. I can hear it."

Your heart falls in your chest. “Frankie, I'm not ending it." You reassure, thankful his head shifts to face you. “Baby, whatever happened, it happened. It doesn't—it doesn’t change things for me. Doesn’t change the person I know. I know it’s a part of your story, a thing I can never heal for you, and I know there's likely more there, but you don't need to tell me. I don't need to know the whole thing.”

His eyes don't leave yours, and you see them fill with tears again. But this time, there's relief in them, too. Your hand lightly brushes over the bandage.

“Because what I do know is how much I like getting to know you. I know how Ben talked about you—how good Will said you were, are. I know what person I’ve been seeing, so, I don’t feel any different, about you—about us. Okay?”

Nodding, chewing his tongue for a moment, he slowly pulls you into a hug, burying his face in your neck. And, you hold him just as tight—hand stroking his back, feeling his tears on your skin. How his breathing steadies, and becomes more regular.

Only when he loosens his grip do you pull away slightly. Seeing enough to catch his face, how he's looking at you with such raw gratitude and vulnerability that it makes your chest ache. Pressing your forehead to his, closing your eyes as you take it in, you lay a soft kiss on his mouth, taking a moment, letting it all settle.

And then you clear your throat. “But, you are really bad at UNO.”

He snorts, eyes closed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Like really bad—maybe the worst person I’ve ever played UNO with—”

Grabbing you, almost tickling you, he half-smiles, somehow having shifted himself to be above you, pressing you into your sofa cushions. “Yeah, alright”

Smiling up at him, you flick your eyes from his to his lips. “Do you want to stay and make me eggs in the morning?”

Rolling his lips, he takes a deep breath, before slowly nodding. "If that's okay?"

"I'd like you to."

Baby, you were fast asleep when I had to get up for work, so I made you a thank-you-for-listening-to-me-omelette. The recipe was complex, with lots of various thanks woven into it, so I hope you like it. I also spotted my brand of coffee in your cupboard, I’m trying to stop grinning at that, so I’ll try and call on my break if you want—so you can remind me how bad I am at UNO.

I just woke up, so I’m going to hunt down this omelette that definitely didn’t need to be made from thank-you-eggs.

Okay, first report, your omelette is almost as good as your coffee. Which yes, I bought.

Starting to think you really like me, Rainy.

I might do, Butterscotch.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

AN: hope we're all doing okay

[fuckmeupballum]

I think with saltburn it's less about eat the rich and more about Oliver and how he deals with rejection.

When he gets his final rejection from Felix he decides 'if I can't have him no-one can'. The murder is also about more than just his obsession with Felix but making sure this new life he has created for himself in saltburn continues.

When he assists in ending Venetia's life, she call's him out for what he is. He then kisses her and it does works for a second (which I think ties into this weird incestuous thing going on with felix and Venetia, Oliver was wearing Felix's aftershave) but when she snaps out of it and rejects him it ends in her death.

Realistically there is no way of disposing of the father without causing major suspicion so he takes the deal and leaves devastated. He's going back to his old life where he cannot connect with people without manipulation.

When Oliver learns of the fathers death he manipulates a meet cute with Elspeth and ends up back at the Saltburn estate. I'm unsure of why he's killing Elspeth but it could be due to being forced to leave Saltburn and Elspeth never reaching out. Which would be another form of rejection in his eyes. In the script there's a mention about her asking if Oliver is okay with what happened and him replying yes but Elspeth is unsure if she actually believes him.

When Oliver mentions hating Felix I imagine it was because every little rejection he faced. The locking of the bathroom door and when Felix had gone out partying without him etc. THAT IS MY RANT THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT

P.s. Maybe he took the house as a fuck you to farleigh because farleigh said he would never be 'in' they were both technically outsiders looking in playing a game of cat and cat with one another and in a weird way Oliver won