Jason Has The Photo Alfred Took By His Bedside 🥺🥺🥺

robbe ijzermans and sander driesen in 2021

ARNAS FEDARAVICIUS as SIHTRIC KJARTANSSON

THE LAST KINGDOM: SEVEN KINGS MUST DIE (2023)

❤

The girls get it, get it, and girls don’t, don’t.

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wandering romance - Sihtric Kjartansson

"Quiet and unseen", that was Verena's inner motto. The lands of Wessex were a peaceful one...well more peaceful than ot...

New story alert! to feed my new hyper fixation!

no words, just lucas.

he’s so adorable omg.

Maybe you could write a fic where marti, nico, Eva and ele realized filo check out Elia

It’s when the boy’s figure has full disappeared along with his friend around a corner that Filippo plops his chin on his palm and shows off his most winning smile.

“You know, I’m beginning to think that maybe Elia and Sivia won’t be a good match after all.”

Eva looks up from her phone, “What? Why?”

Nico, on the other side of the table, cocks a single eyebrow up and all at once, his gaze flicks to the space Elia had occupied and disappeared from. There’s a thump from under the table, and Marti jerks in place, throwing a wild look to his boyfriend. Filippo blinks at Nico’s serene expression.

Whatever. Nico always was an odd one.

Filippo shrugs and turns his attention back to Eva, “Seems wrong to torment the kid with a girl he doesn’t even like.”

And it seemed right to keep the kid uninvolved with anyone until Filippo could properly formulate a plan to introduce himself.

Eva sets her phone flat on the table. “So it has nothing to do with the fact you’re into him?”

“Into him? Me?”

“Oh so you wouldn’t fuck Elia?” Ele chimes in with all the smugness that only a baby sister watching her brother squirm could muster.

Marti holds up a hand, “Wait. Wait what?”

“Filippo is into Elia and is now trying to sabotage my plan.” Eva points at Filippo, “Elia is straight.”

An easy, carefree counter, “So was Marti until he met Nico.”

Marti’s outraged, “Excuse me?”

“Well that’s not true. Haven’t you met Giovanni Garau?”

Nico’s eyebrows raise further, “Wait, what?”

Filippo bows his head a this clusterfuck of a conversation, “Fuck me. Nevermind, set him up with the blonde harpy all you want.” Filippo slides his phone out of his back pocket and checks the time, “I’ll get to him first. Martinico, my boys, where are you guys playing with Elia and the small boy? I think I’ll join in for a bit.”

the only winner and the only one i'm gonna accept at eurovision this year

My Only You

VDS Week 2021

Day 5: Secret / Forbidden (it also fits Vacation, but the greater theme here is the secret so I’m posting this today)

Word Count: 2995

Ao3

This is torture, Jens decides when he sees Sander and Robbe across the campfire cuddled up under a blanket, trading soft touches and lingering kisses. A feeling of want and longing overcomes him and he can’t help himself when he continues to watch them for a little while longer, only indistinctly aware of the conversation around him and not really listening to the story of how Aaron managed to piss off Amber once again. He gives into the urge to let his eyes wonder across the campfire from the only couple at their brothers vacation, well only official couple, to Lucas, who’s sitting next to Moyo, seemingly very engaged in conversation. Behind Lucas, he can just make out the line where the ocean hits the land and hear the distant sound of waves crashing at the shore. It’s a beautiful night, the sun has set nearly an hour ago and slowly but surely the night sky is illuminated by more and more stars.

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At night, Elia dreams of Filippo.

It’s weird, because he’s been obsessed with girls before, absolutely, so it’s not like infatuation is a new thing for him. But never has Elia dreamt with such vivid clarity and an undertone of such desperate want, longing, for someone before.

He dreams of lean abs painted like a statue of ancient Rome. He dreams of corded muscles tensing and relaxing as long fingers flick the end of a cigarette. He dreams of bleached curls and dark eye lashes; of freckles like constellations on smooth tan skin. 

He dreams of gasps and moans and whispers of “please” and “more” and “god don’t stop.” He dreams of soothing touches and bruise-educing grips; of laughter and the morning sunlight gleaming off of espresso eyes still hazy from a night of pleasure and sleep.

But Elia doesn’t dream reality. 

He doesn’t dream the careful way in which his eyes never fail to look out for Filippo across a rooftop party composed of mutual friends. He doesn’t dream of their eyes meeting and holding for an eternity, only for Filippo’s to eventually trail away when the disappointment that Elia can’t quite bring himself to make the first move after their night together weeks ago sets in. He doesn’t dream of Marti’s considering looks, or Gio’s pursed lips, or the way Luca seems oblivious to it all. 

(It’s not the boy thing, guys, it’s not that. I’m not ashamed, it’s just complicated.)

He doesn’t dream of his father slamming a Bible down at the dinner table in front of him, repeating over and over that the Santini family are good Catholics, great ones, and that good Catholic boys marry good Catholic girls and that there are no exceptions. 

It wouldn’t be hard to be a good Catholic boy. Elia likes girls without trying; he likes curves and giggles and the smell of perfume. 

But more than he likes girls right now, Elia likes Filippo.

Elia wants Filippo.

And Elia is nothing if not selfish.

So he looks up at the dark ceiling, watching the way shadows flicker as cars pass by. Then he glances towards his bedside table.

02:43

To Filippo Sava: can I come over?