#-- somft man bellys....

[coolrpblog]

🐕-

no one:

me: dwight is pudgy he needs the soft belly

[cybertron-smash-or-pass]

fat robots. say everything you think

Well, this is going to be barely coherent, but here we go.

I am not particularly shy about saying I think fat people and fat characters are often really fuckin hot. Idk if it's anything that deep, I just like em sturdy about as often as I like twinks or hunks or anything in between, and I think it's a damn shame you don't see more fat characters treated as complex or desirable or really anything more than the comic relief.

I've mentioned before that TFA has my ideal mix of partial softbody and hard metal. It's also got a really nice range of body types, and it gave us my beautiful beloved boy Bulkhead, very big, very cute, very sweet. I like that he's fat, I like that he has depth as a character, I like the idea of his belly and his thighs actually being at least a little soft. Also with Jazz and Shockwave, although both of them are pretty thin (unless you count Longarm), they both have that very clearly soft midriff (and in Jazz's case, those incredibly biteable thighs) and when people draw them even softer and chubbier than they are in canon, I simply black out. No thoughts, head empty, only robot tummy.

Even in continuities where that soft protoform look might be a bit more of a reach (like tfp, they lean a lot heavier into the mechanical for about everything except the face) I don't really see anything wrong with people simplifying some of the moving mechanical parts in the name of dialing up the softbody a little. Like don't get me wrong, I love the predominantly hard metal side of the spectrum too, I'm as fascinated with tfp Optimus's intricate mechanical hands Drift's solid steel thighs as the next robotfucker, I just also like applying The Somft™️ to characters that may not have it by default.

I'm also just kind of a sucker for characters that are Constantly Going Through It and Tired All The Time eventually gaining weight when they get to settle down and enjoy themselves a little, and with The War being a constant in every continuity, that gives me quite a few options to apply that trope post-war (cough cough tfp ratchet cough cough I NEED THAT MAN TO STOP STARVING HIMSELF DAMMIT)

In conclusion, your honor, I think I just like seeing my faves fat n' happy.

[tumptations]

Local demon doesn’t seem to understand his tum 🐌🐌

[lucifers-horror-harem]

Can I request headcanons for a poly relationship with Brahms and Vincent Sinclair?

Oh my gODDDDD ANON UR MIND!!! Legit I went OFF with this headcanon post and honesty I’m obsessed with this pairing now. I might even write a smutty one shot regarding this but like fuckkkkkk I hope y’all enjoy this cause i had SO MUCH FUN writing it!

Brahms/Vincent/Reader Poly:

Since Brahms and Vincent are two killers that are based in a specific location and would probably never leave their homes, here are a few specific headcanons for each killer in the other’s home.

Vincent in the Heelshire Manor wouldn't affect him too greatly, other than the nagging feeling of being homesick. Though if he has you by his side, it makes the ache less harsh. For the most part as long as Vincent has a room he can call his workshop he really won't mind. And because the Heelshire mansion is so huge there would be more than enough room for such. 

Brahms would be very against having Vincent in the walls, feeling threatened by his presence, but once he is more used to the three of you being together he might not mind it as much. Actually, Vincent enjoys Brahms' space. He finds the room quite relaxing, though a bit too cramped for his liking. 

Ultimately, both are fine as long as they are given their privacy to work and relax on their own time. 

Brahms in Ambrose would cause the most upheaval. He would glue himself to your side, following you wherever you went as you were the only comfort he had in this strange place. Brahms isn't used to not only being out of the walls but essentially having a whole town to himself to explore. It would be a lot at first, but with yours and Vincent's gentle urging, Brahms would slowly embrace this new change.

He would love the tunnels under Ambrose, allowing him to move to different places in town without needing to walk down the street just in case there were visitors in town. He prefers to slip in and out of places largely unnoticed so less attention is brought to him.

While he does not actively participate in the slaying of visitors in Ambrose for the wax collection, he has been known to attack anyone he deems a threat to you or the Sinclairs. This is his home now and anything that is a threat to that home must be dealt with accordingly (and brutally). Vincent often complains that Brahms ruins the bodies, but understands that Brahms can't control himself when he reaches that point. 

Speaking of the other Sinclair brothers, Bo unsurprisingly hates Brahms. When Brahms first arrived, he was very shy and nervous around Bo, actively afraid of the loud and easily angered brother. Once he realized that Bo was no threat to him, he actively enjoyed "playing" with him. Bo hates it when he uses his childlike voice, but Brahms continues to do it anyways to put Bo on edge. Brahms might also use his stealthy abilities to purposefully scare Bo, appearing out of nowhere and giving him a heart attack and running off before Bo can retaliate. Bo would never admit it openly but Brahms intimidates him simply from his stature and the inability to read him.

Lester was intimidated by Brahms when he first arrived, the man much taller and more muscular than he was. But when Brahms learned about the road kill Lester collects and disposes of, he simply asked if he could take care of the rats as well. Lester did, and the two have no issues with each other, though Lester still feels a slight unease when around the other man. 

Now, for the personality dynamics of the boys.

Brahms and Vincent get along much better than one might initially suspect. The two are utterly territorial men, often with you in the middle of their affections, however they eventually grow to understand each other and how it would be easier to protect you if they were both there. You’re the common denominator that keeps them from fighting each other, and the fact that you dispense love equally between them is an important factor. 

The two will eventually grow to respect each other as well, with Brahms eventually being comforted by Vincent's company if you are unavailable. He will often sit quietly with Jonesy as he watches Vincent work on his sculptures, very rarely interrupting him. Vincent isn't bothered by this presence, and is often comforted if either you, Brahms, or the both of you are in the room with him doing whatever as he sculpts. 

Vincent grows fond of Brahms, feeling protective of him when he becomes distressed and overwhelmed. Growing up with Bo, he has learned how to help diffuse highly volatile situations. Even if he can't speak very well, his gentle reassurances help while he deescalates Brahms’ tantrums. A plus for you, really. 

As the two of them both wear masks to hide their faces, they might reveal themselves sooner rather than later simply because they're in the presence of another person that truly understands what their going through, as well as someone who loves them unconditionally (you, of course). Expect them to take of their masks one night while the three of you are together, the two of them slowly revealing themselves to each other and you. Brahms’ burn scars, and Vincent's scars each on one side of their face, cause them to be moved when they first see each other. They'll have their masks off around you more often after that. 

Now,,, the somft dating headcanons,,, 

Brahms and Vincent are both touch starved individuals so just expect to be giving lots of love to these boys. Just you cuddling with them makes them melt, and if they see you giving attention to one you know the other will grow jealous until you give them some love as well. Brahms is much more clingy than Vincent however, and you'll have to be a bit more firm with him about your space even if he ignores it most of the time. Vincent is a lot more shy so when you give him hugs and kisses he is more likely to freeze up instead of latch onto you like Brahms the Leech Boy would. 

Both spoil you as much as humanly possible, mostly with love and physical affection though they have their own little ways of treating you. Vincent makes you small wax sculptures all the time, enjoying the smile on your face as you look the figure over with adoration. Brahms gets a bit annoyed over this, as he doesn't have much of an artistic hand. But Vincent is happy to give him some wax and either let him mess around with it or teach him some techniques to properly use it. Brahms is so proud once he is able to make you something small, probably a bowl, and he absolutely melts when you squeal in delight at his thoughtful gift. Vincent can't help but feel happy himself too. 

Lots of snuggle piles with the three of you, often with you in the middle. While they don't tend to have a favorite position as long as they get to hold you, they do have a few regular positions. When you read out loud to them, Vincent tends to sit behind you, your back up against his chest, as Brahms is tangled amongst both of your legs as he rests his head on your lap, his arms draped around your middle. Vincent holds the book open for you so both of your hands are free to pet and play with Brahms’ hair, which he thoroughly enjoys. Sometimes Vincent and Brahms will swap places, or one of them will rest their head against your chest as you act as the big spoon. Also expect many blankets and pillows to further complete your nest as well. 

Luckily for Bo, Brahms’ need for structure in the form of the daily chore list will keep you busy cleaning up the living space and making enough food to feed all the men you were caring for now. If Bo has been particularly good, Brahms might tag along with you to the gas station to deliver him lunch after you bring Vincent his. Vincent is usually busy with his art so you give him a kiss on top of his head and leave his food on his work bench, knowing he will get to it once he is hungry. Bo won't dare to lash out too much when he is being fed, especially not when Brahms stands behind you like an imposing bodyguard whenever Bo is nearby. 

Date nights with the two of them are rather unconventional. Most of the time whenever the three of you are together it is considered a date whether or not it is super romantic. Just coexisting in the same space is often enough for the three of you. Vincent is happy enough to show you and Brahms around Ambrose, obviously knowing the best places to relax and get away from the stress the town can bring. He knows exactly where you can see the best sunrises and sunsets too. And Brahms is more than happy to tag along, though if he was in his manor than he would probably have a hard time leaving even with the two of you by his side. 

Expect lots of quiet nights reading, softly talking amongst yourselves, watching old vhs tapes found around town on the small TV, and listening to music. Sometimes Jonesy will keep you all company and get lots of snuggles and belly rubs as well. 

Now onto the headcanons you filthy animals were waiting for. You know. The naughty stuff ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Being the needy man he is, Brahms is probably the first to initiate sexual touching. He is certainly not shy about his desire for you, not even being embarrassed about growing hard around you. Vincent, on the other hand, is too ashamed to initiate contact in the beginning, even if he feels the same way. Most likely he will let Brahms take the lead with you first, enjoying the act of watching you both. You can't get enough of the sight of Vincent sitting in his chair, hand squeezed tightly around his member as he edges himself while watching Brahms grab and explore your body. And with Brahms’ jealous streak he doesn't mind having you first either. 

Slowly, Vincent will find his way into bed with the two of you, probably at your urging. If Brahms is feeling particularly generous, he might be the one to say something. "They’re so soft Vinny, you have to touch them." With some gentle persuasion, Vincent will touch you the way Brahms touches you, making your toes curl and your breath hitch. Brahms watches eagerly, touching you as well and grabbing your hand and holding it over his cock as you pump him until his seed spills over you.

Vincent isn't shy about body worship once he realizes how much you want him. He will kiss and caress every inch of you, pulling out all sorts of noises that you never thought were possible. Brahms looks on in awe, his mouth often following behind Vincent's as he mimics the actions, much to your delight. 

Brahms has a hard time holding himself back around you while Vincent can take an entire night with you, so together they tend to even out. They'll go until you're too exhausted, but usually Brahms will finish first, leaving Vincent all the time in the world with you. That is, until Brahms’ gets hard again and finds his way back into the fray. 

They are both comfortable being switches, not minding if they are on top but if you want to top they will gladly let you spoil them. They both love being ridden, holding you in their arms as you bounce on their cock, until you leave them a shaking mess beneath you. They also enjoy receiving oral from you, and you tend to include both of them in the activity. Sometimes you will jerk the two of them off with your hands, give oral to one and use your hand on the other, or on at least one occasion, have attempted to at the very least lick both of them at the same time. 

As the three of you grow more open and experienced with each other's bodies, you can expect to try taking them both on at least a few occasions. Sometimes one of them will be performing oral or fucking you as you take the other in your mouth. If you happen to be AFAB, expect double penetration to be attempted at least once, though Brahms is a bit too impatient to go through the whole ordeal so it isn't an activity you often engage in. 

Now, Brahms and Vincent both grew up in very strict and sheltered homes, so the thought of being naked in the same room as another man, or sharing the same person with another man in the same bed might cause them trepidation in the beginning of your sexual relationship. Eventually, however, they grow to love each other as much as they love you, though they might show it to each other in a different way. While they might not initiate sex with each other if you aren't around, they will slowly begin to experiment with you in the bedroom. Touching you turns into touching each other as well, and they find that while each other's touch is much different than yours, they enjoy this new feeling. 

In fact, they might have been known to, on occasion, jerk each other off if their needs grow too intense and you aren’t around to provide for them. When you caught them, they were facing each other, pumping each other’s member as Brahms buried his face into Vincent's shoulder. Initially they were wildly embarrassed and thought you would be mad, but you assured them you weren't, your words of encouragement helping them finish. 

Time for kinks!

They both share voyeurism kink, and while Brahms can be a bit annoyed and bratty if he has to sit on the sidelines, both are content to watch the other have their way with you, getting off on just watching. Hell, both of them spy on you on the regular, watching you get dressed or shower before you either notice them in the doorway or they allow themselves in. 

If Vincent is able to get a hold of a camera you know he will be taking pictures of you constantly, with or without you knowing. While it partially adds to his voyeur kink, he enjoys being able to take artistic nudes of you, as well as less artistic ones where you are simply being wrecked by one or the both of them. 

Wax play is a big kink of Vincent's as he enjoys watching your expression as he tips the candle over your skin and watches how the hot wax makes you jolt for a moment before it begins to solidify on your skin. Brahms, however, is not a fan, simply because he finds it tedious as well as being unable to enjoy it himself. Putting hot wax on a hairy man is not a fun time. 

They both enjoy bondage, though Brahms doesn't really know how to properly execute it until meeting Vincent. All three of you have been tied up at one point or another, allowing the other two access to their body. Vincent enjoys the more eloquent knots and ties, creating intricate designs on both you and Brahms. Brahms is a good candidate for being tied up as he gets worked up so easily and this is one of the few ways to help him take his time. The ties that you and Brahms execute on Vincent aren't as beautiful but they do the trick, and he often has a hard time edging himself with the two of you giving him attention. 

Any kinks that you have are eagerly accepted by Vincent and Brahms, as they are always happy to bend over backwards to satiate your needs. Even if it is a little embarrassing, they're willing to try anything at least once with you. 

Ultimately, the open communication and understanding between the three of you help immensely when it comes to taking care of each other's needs. You would all drop everything to satisfy your partners, and they would do the same for you.

[trashyswitch]

The Real Reasoning Behind All of This

Pocket is getting sick and tired of the pressure that comes with writing fanfics. So, she starts to imagine the characters she's written about, and imagines what advice they would give her and what comforting strategies they would use. And as she predicted, lots of tickles!

Pocket was growling and throwing her phone around the room. So many expectations. So many ideas given to her. She has no excuse to not write now. But she just didn’t. Want to.

She hated when she felt like this. It felt like she was letting everyone down by not pushing herself to fucking write. She knew Shannon was fine with the no writing, but were others okay with it?! Probably not.

She walked up to the fridge and was about to reach for a smirnoff.

[Alcohol doesn’t solve problems]

[Alcohol will make your life miserable]

[It’s a fake high, Pocket.]

[SUGAR]

Pocket angrily closed the fridge and grabbed some chocolate covered almonds instead. She didn’t wanna do the work...It was so much work...She hated waiting for the moments she got into hyper focus. That was the only way she would get her fanfics done at a reasonable time. She relied on those hyper focus episodes. Perhaps if she skipped out on her ADHD med, she would have more energy to do the work. But nope...The adhd med is supposed to help her focus. But the ADHD med drained all her energy. Every time she missed her pill, she would wind up with extra energy. She would be filled with adrenaline. It felt like a sugar high...Or a buzz.

Pocket had recently figured out that a buzz from alcohol was very similar to ADHD adrenaline rushes. It was a fun little fact that she found to be very interesting and yet...disappointing. Finding out the truth meant she didn’t need alcohol to experience happiness. But skipping the ADHD meds couldn’t be the answer to all her problems. There were benefits to her pill. There were days that she didn’t want to be a ball of energy. There were days that she wanted to lounge. And that pill allowed her to do that without issue.

So is being drunk like having ADHD? Maybe for her. But is ADHD like being drunk all the time without the hangover?

Who. Knows.

Pocket looked down at her dog and smiled. She was laying against her leg with her back upwards towards the ceiling. She looked like a loaf of burnt toast...with a bandana tied around her neck. She was a sleepy girl...A fun girl...A cute widdle bean. And definitely a somft girl.

Pocket began to stare off into space as she stared at the white screen on her laptop. Nothing to write...nothing.

Why was she like this? Why is she here? Why can’t she write right now?

Snoring doggo. She snores a lot.

“Hey Kiddo…” Someone said beside her.

She turned to the left, and smiled. “Hi Patton.”

“Why so down?” He asked.

“I can’t write worth my life.” She complained.

“Well, no matter what you think about your writing, I always support you and will help you when things go wrong.” Patton told her. “So tell me: What’s going wrong?” He asked.

Pocket looked down. “I have no motivation left…”

Patton nodded. “Well, you did go through a phase of writing nonstop for tickletober…” Patton reminded her.

Pocket nodded. “Yup...I just want a little more motivation left over and interest. That’s all I ask.” Pocket told him.

Patton nodded. “And motivation, you’ll get again eventually. Now is just not the time.” Patton reminded him.

“Maybe it’s time I changed what I did again…” Pocket thought.

“Changing your way of doing things, is only going to upset the 400 or so followers that you have.” Someone else said.

Pocket looked over to her right. It was William Afton.

“I know…” Pocket muttered.

“Maybe the problem is, you’re too much of a ler to play the lee.” William offered.

“Well...I’m certainly too ler to be a switch…” Pocket mentioned.

“Also, when are you gonna change your status to ‘ler’ instead of ‘switch’?” William asked.

“When are you gonna stop being manipulative?” Pocket asked the murderer in the room.

“T...Touche.” William replied as he faded away.

Soon, another person appeared. ‘Take some time for yourself. It’s what Shannon wants.’ THe person signed.

Pocket looked over and smiled brightly. It was Jamie!

“Hi Jamie!” She greeted him.

‘Hello!’ Jamie replied.

“Getting to be the time to watch your halloween video again.” Pocket mentioned.

‘Happy halloween!’ Jamie signed happily.

Pocket repeated the signs for ‘happy halloween’. She had taken a sign language course before, and learned Sign Language in her own spare time.

“I know exactly what Pocket needs! But only if you want it.” Patton offered.

Pocket smiled brightly. She knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Yes.” Pocket smiled.

‘Wow! You quick!’ Jamie signed.

“I’ll say!” Patton reacted.

William appeared again .“Let’s get to it then. I’m not patient when it comes to tickling.” William said.

“Alright!” Patton ran to her hips and started digging. “Just tell me-”

“BAAAHAHAHAHAHA!” Pocket yelled, laughing hysterically already.

“WOW! I must’ve hit the jackpot!” Patton reacted.

“I’ll say...She’s already a mess of laughter.” William reacted.

“MYHYHYHY HIHIHIPS AHAHARE THE WOHOHORST!” She laughed.

“You kidding me? You’ve got fuckin’ Shakira hips goin’ here.” William reacted.

Jamie hummed silently as he thought long and hard on where else to tickle…

Then he remembered that bellies exist!

Jamie smiled and started skittering his quick fingers on her belly.

“EEEEHehehehehehe! NOHOHohohoho!” She was pushing the arms away and kicking wildly.

“Awww, de poor widdle baby can’t handle de tickles!” Patton teased.

William looked up at Patton. “Is that seriously how you talk to people?” William asked.

“No!” Patton responded, rather offended. Then his face switched to a smirk. “Only when I’m teasing.”

William looked...rather terrified of the face change.

“GUHUHUHUYS! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!” Pocket begged.

“Oh yeah…” William muttered.

Patton placed a hand on William’s shoulder. “William, William, William…” He said to him politely. “She loves this.”

Jamie raised an eyebrow. ‘Pocket kicking and pleading.’ Jamie mentioned.

Patton smiled and stopped tickling Pocket. William looked down and stopped tickling as well.

Pocket’s laughter turned to giggles and started lessening to huffs.

But then…

“Why…...why did you stop?” She asked.

William blinked and widened his eyes. “Because breathing is important.”

Patton giggled. “Told ya! I know a lee when I see one~” Patton teased.

William blushed at that and looked away.

Jamie looked at William’s blush out of the corner of his eye, and smirked. He rubbed his hands together and tickled William’s sides.

“WHOAHAHAHAHA! WHOHOHOHO-” William scooted himself away from the random tickle monster that was tickling him, and turned to see Jamie in the same spot he was in. “Oh...It was you.”

Jamie wiggled his fingers with a smirk from both the lips and the mustache.

“Uh oh…” William got himself up onto his feet and started running. Jamie wasn’t far behind him as he chased Will around the room.

Pocket watched this whole thing and giggled. It was so funny seeing the most innocent man chasing the murderer for tickles around her room.

“Now: Let’s get this lee mood dealt with.” Patton decided.

Patton started tickling Pocket again and specifically focused on the sides and belly this time. Pocket laughed and giggled as she kicked her feet and flailed her arms around all over again.

“OHohohohoho nohohohoho! Pahahahahahat!” Pocket laughed.

“Yessss?” Patton replied.

“Ihihihit tihihihicklehehes!” Pocket laughed.

OHOHO SHIHIHIT- HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Someone else shouted.

Patton stopped tickling and turned around. As it would turn out, Jamie had already caught William and was now tickling the man.

“IHIHIHI- WHAHAHAHAT’S YOHOHOUR NAHAHAHAME AHAHAHAGAHAHAIN?! JAHAHAHACK??” William asked.

Jamie widened his eyes, stopped tickling him and completely lost himself in laughter. This man couldn’t even bother to remember his name right?! Wow! It’s a wonder he kept a business afloat for as long as he did!

Pocket smiled and enjoyed watching Jamie laugh his head off. It was nice to be able to imagine these characters.

“Alright. One more tickle attack, then I’m all done!” Patton decided.

Pocket nodded and opened her arms to him. Patton happily took it and tried tickling her ribs next. He started at the bottom ribs.

“EEEHEHEHE!” Pocket laughed before collapsing to the floor. It would seem that Pocket was SUPER ticklish on her lower ribs!

Patton tried moving upwards.

“PAHAHAhahahahat! Hahahahahehehe!” She laughed.

“Ooooh! Not so ticklish on your middle ribs, huh?” Patton said out loud.

“Nohohoho...Just thehehe bohohottom rihihibs.” Pocket replied.

“Good to know!” Patton started digging into her bottom ribs and focusing on the spot between the ribs too.

“BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHAHA!” Pocket laughed.

Patton slowed his fingers down and stopped pushing as hard. “Your laughter...is so much different when you’re tickled! Are you faking your laugh often?” Patton asked.

“Nohoho...Ihihi juhuhust hahahave dihihifferent tihihickle lahahaughter.” Pocket told him.

“Well, good to know! I’m happy to know you’re not forcing yourself to laugh.” Patton replied.

Patton took a moment or two to look at the progress between William and Jamie. As one would probably expect, William was now getting his revenge on Jamie! And while the tickling wasn’t producing much of a laughter sound, Jamie was certainly making wheezes and visual reactions.

‘Stop stop stop stop stop!’ Jamie kept signing.

“Why would I stop? You’re clearly loving this!” William reacted.

Patton laughed at that. “Yohou’re not wrong about that.” Patton confirmed for him.

“See?” William smiled and continued to tickle Jamie for a little longer before stopping to let him breathe.

“Not so bad for a lee, huh Jamie?” William teased.

Jamie flipped him off as a response.

Aaaand that earned Jamie even more tickles.

Pocket was helped up by Patton and was given a big bear hug. “Thank you Patton.” She told him.

“No problem, Kiddo!” Patton replied.

“And thank you William and Jamie!” Pocket said next.

‘You’re welcome! Love you!’ Jamie signed.

“Glad to help kid. And for the love of god, take a break.” William ordered. “You deserve it.”

Pocket watched as the characters faded out of existence. Pocket smiled to herself, feeling a lot better. She wasn’t really motivated from the experience, but she did feel a little more inspired again. She felt like she had a better grasp of why she did these fanfics in the first place: To just have fun. And sometimes, the fun will feel like a chore...but that’s okay. It’ll get better.

Now to get these new, fresh ideas into motion before she forgets!

But quickly, a little sentence popped into her head:

[“For the love of god, take a break.”]

Yeah...Maybe he’s right. She didn’t really feel motivated to get anything more going yet. She just felt...super inspired with no energy to make it.

The brain was too tired to do what the heart wanted.

So, Pocket grabbed her laptop, turned on some Lo-fi music and decided to take a nap.

[“You deserve it.”]

This might be my last fanfic before Tickletober rolls around. So, I hope you enjoyed it!

[cavalierious-whim]

Antiquated (FE3H)

Sylvix | Post-Canon | Established Relationship | Explicit

Felix loves him and all his aged faults. From the soft laugh lines around his mouth to the crow’s feet around his eyes. Time has been kind to them in some ways, terrible in others, but Sylvain deserves this small pocket of peace that they’ve stumbled their way into.

####

A/N: Have some good 'ole established relationship, somft, old man smut. Otherwise known as my favorite. Thanks to Satodee for the idea. Read here on AO3 for better quality, and you can follow me here on Twitter for more updates and wips!

####

Sylvain’s so handsome like this, spread out underneath Felix, sighing deeply into the night as he grasps onto him with wild abandon.

It isn’t a rare sight. It’s been seared into Felix’s mind over and over through the years but it never gets old, it never means less. Every time is worth just as much as the one before.

“You look ridiculous,” says Felix instead of waxing poetically. He has an acerbic personality to portray even if he’s softened over their years together. And Sylvain does, his hair curling wildly about his head, shots of gray sparkling in the low candlelight. It knots so easily. All he has to do is drop his head onto the pillow and it takes a half-hour to comb out in the morning.

Sylvain huffs. “Like you can talk. Have you seen the rat’s nest you’re sporting?”

Felix doesn’t need to look to know he’s a mess. His hair is a travesty; he washes it with harsh soaps, brushes it out rudimentarily, and then ties it into a knot when it’s still wet. He’s old enough to not care much anymore.

“It’s not as though I have to impress anyone.”

Sylvain hums at that, hands sliding down Felix’s sides, thumbs playing with the skin there. The contact relaxes Felix as he sinks into it. “I suppose that I don’t count, then.”

“I don’t have to impress you,” says Felix. He’s teasing, mostly. Felix could be wearing a potato sack and Sylvain would still find him the most handsome man in the world. And he’d brag about it publicly, sing it from the rooftops.

Sylvain doesn’t sing well.

“Should I stop trying then?” Sylvain’s only musing, he doesn’t mean anything by it. But Felix pauses above him, looking down, a hand pressed against Sylvain’s chest. Thinking. His fingers scrub through Sylvain’s chest hair, scratching at his skin lightly, relishing in the downy feel of it.

Felix loves him and all his aged faults. From the soft laugh lines around his mouth to the crow’s feet around his eyes. Time has been kind to them in some ways, terrible in others, but Sylvain deserves this small pocket of peace that they’ve stumbled their way into. And managed to somehow keep.

“You’ve always preened for only yourself,” says Felix.

Sylvain smiles, wide and easy, and his hands slip further south. His fingers dig into Felix’s ass, pulling him closer. Sylvain’s already half-hard against him, something that causes Felix’s mouth to curve into a dangerous little smile.

He drags his hand down in response, fingers dancing along Sylvain’s cock teasingly. “What’s this?”

“Don’t act surprised,” says Sylvain.

“We’ve already done this once tonight,” says Felix. Earlier, before they’d fallen asleep. Felix on his hands and knees as Sylvain pounded him into their bed. Felix can still feel the satisfied ache of it even hours later.

Sylvain laughs. “Is once enough?”

Never, thinks Felix. They’re married and utterly in love, and have been for decades. Sylvain will share a bed with him for decades to come and it’ll never be enough. Felix doesn’t tell him this, though, so rarely vocal about his sentimentality. Instead, he reaches down to curl his fingers around Sylvain’s cock, feeling it fill out within his grasp.

Actions speak louder than words.

Sylvain moans softly, cheeks tinting pink as Felix slides his hand along his length with practiced ease.

“Aren’t you--”

“Quiet,” says Felix as he lets go, pressing his hips forward instead to grind their cocks together. Earlier they fell asleep unclothed. Sylvain’s naked skin is already painted with a healthy flush, and Felix eats up the sight as he drags a hand down his chest.

Felix wants to indulge.

“Slowly,” says Sylvain. “Let’s take our time.”

Felix doesn’t want to take his time, he wants to devour Sylvain right then and there. So he does, leaning forward to latch his mouth against Sylvain’s neck, sucking on the tender skin there. Sylvain responds immediately, arching into the touch, fingers digging into the meat of Felix’s ass where he holds him.

It’s always so delicious, the way that he reacts. The way that he falls into their shared pleasure. Sylvain has always been handsome, even more so now that he’s older and more distinguished, but this is when he looks his most beautiful. Underneath Felix’s biting kisses, and scarred and calloused fingers as they work him to the edge.

Felix runs one hand across Sylvain’s chest, thumbing at a nipple and the other goes south, scratching through the trail of hair just below his belly button. Sylvain grasps him by the wrist, holding it there and Felix pauses, pulling back slightly. Sylvain smiles at him lazily as one hand rises to cup his cheek.

Then Felix is thrown to the side, effortlessly rolled onto his back. He doesn’t put up a fight, settling into the pillow as Sylvain looms over him, mouth twisted into an annoyed little frown.

“Slowly,” repeats Sylvain, leaning forward to press a kiss to Felix’s forehead. A gentle murmur against his skin, a soft request.

“I suppose that I can allow that,” says Felix.

Sylvain laughs, pressing another kiss to his ear. Then to the juncture at his neck. Sylvain’s hand finds his chin as he tips it upward and claims his lips in a slow, thorough kiss. Felix raises a hand to Sylvain’s hair, curling his fingers into tangled tresses. He opens his mouth in a plea to deepen the kiss. Sylvain responds eagerly, tongue slipping into his mouth.

Felix has a lot of love for moments like this, these lazy and indulgent things. Teasing each other as they bask in pleasure together, limbs so tangled that they can’t tell where they even begin. When they were young and at war, they never had time for this, to cultivate that fire that burns between them.

It was always fast and hurried and to a point. Dirty and sweaty, wherever you could get it. In a dingy tent on the field. Behind a tavern in a dusky alley. Never in a soft bed, surrounded by comfort.

Never a long enough pause to just relish the moment.

Sylvain takes his sweet time, nibbling at Felix’s lips. Sylvain’s hand slips down and across his chest, thumb circling around a nipple. He presses it flat against the nub as it stiffens under his touch. Then Sylvain’s hand shifts down further to wrap around Felix’s cock, holding him in a tight grip, coaxing him to full hardness.

Felix huffs a laugh. “I thought you said slowly,” he teases. This seems to be the exact opposite but he isn’t complaining. Felix has never been a patient one.

Sylvain licks a stripe up Felix’s neck, laughing against his skin in return. “This is slow,” says Sylvain, tugging at Felix’s length with a leisurely pace. Infuriating. “I know you, Felix. This is just enough to make you squirm.”

Felix wants to kick him, roll him back over and slide onto him in one go, just to stick it to him. That idea is lost the moment Sylvain moves down towards the foot of the bed, pressing a kiss just below his belly button. Then at the juncture of his thigh and hip.

At the base of his cock. Sylvain has Felix’s length in hand, staring at it like it’s his next meal. It’s Felix’s turn to feel the burn of the heated blush that takes over his cheeks. Then, Sylvain swallows him down with little ceremony, lips stretched tight around his cock as he takes him in.

Felix’s head snaps back into the pillow and he punches out a moan, unable to cut himself off.

Sylvain’s mouth is hot and wet around him. He tongues expertly around the crown of his cock, hand working alongside to cover the rest of him. It’s a leisurely pace, more of a gentle sucking than a frenzied blowjob, but it’s enough to make Felix’s toes curl nonetheless.

His husband is just too damn good at this.

Felix’s hand finds those unruly, salt and auburn curls, fingers tightening against them. Pulling just slightly, scratching at his scalp. Trying to ground himself as he tries not to buck deeper into Sylvain’s mouth.

It’s agonizing, the languid and unhurried way that Sylvain drags his mouth along Felix’s cock. Licking around him carefully before sucking him right back down, inching down just a little bit further with each press.

Sylvain can take most of his length, he’s done it plenty of times before, but he seems to have no plans to do so this time. Instead, Sylvain’s fingers slip into the cleft of his ass, teasing at his rim. It’s already loosened, already so pliant, already waiting for more. Sylvain presses the tip of his finger in ever so slightly.

Felix heaves a sigh, pressing against his hand, forcing the finger deeper.

Sylvain pulls off. “Felix,” he warns. But makes no move to pull away.

Felix can’t bring himself to beg, but he gives Sylvain a pleading look before bucking against his grasp. Sylvain smiles crookedly at him, huffing a laugh.

“Alright,” he says, pulling out and away. Sylvain shuffles around slightly and when he finds Felix’s hole again, it’s with two slick fingers, carefully coated in oil. It’s unneeded but Sylvain’s the kind to take care, even when Felix wants anything but.

Still, Felix delights in the burn of his fingers as they slip in again, gingerly scissoring at his entrance. Felix wiggles his ass against Sylvain’s hand, trying to meet his movements. Ever so impatient even when Sylvain wants to take it slow.

Sylvain’s mouth finds his cock again, harder than it was before. Pink at the tip and leaking precome. Sylvain laps at it, tongue swirling around the head of his cock before swallowing it right back down.

It’s near too much; the soft warmth of Sylvain’s mouth as he sucks at him, the stinging drag of his fingers in his ass. Well memorized motions of a man who knows the exact way to bring him to the edge quickly and efficiently.

They’re predictable, the both of them.

“Off,” murmurs Felix, tugging at Sylvain’s hair. “I said off.”

“Felix,” says Sylvain, his breath puffing against the skin of his groin, pressing a tender kiss there. “Are you--”

“Inside,” cuts in Felix. “I need you--” He groans as Sylvain pulls his fingers from him.

“Impatient.”

“Yes,” agrees Felix. Then he wiggles his hips again. If Sylvain doesn’t do something soon he’s going to find himself hung out to dry while Felix takes care of himself in the washroom. He’s had enough teasing for the night.

Sylvain slicks his cock quickly in whatever oil he’s got stashed under the pillow. He teases Felix’s entrance with the head of his cock, making him wait. He’s insufferable even now of all times.

“Goddess, you’re infuriating,” says Felix.

“But you love it,” says Sylvain cheekily, pressing in closer. His face hangs just over Felix’s, waiting for a kiss. Felix gives it to him, nipping at his mouth playfully, telling him to get the show on the road.

But yes, he does it, he loves everything about Sylvain. His dumbass expressions, his shitty jokes. The way that he teases and tortures Felix for fun. Even on the tougher nights when the memories are alive; when he has the night sweats and terrors, or when he lays awake forever instead to avoid them.

Felix and Sylvain are two sides of a coin, utterly inseparable and always one of the same.

Sylvain finally presses in, easily, and Felix keens at the feel of it. It’s home and comfort. They belong like this, Sylvain buried in him to the hilt. Shaking and shuddering as he slides out and then back in. Fingers digging into the meat of Felix’s thighs, overcome with the feel of it.

Felix is so full and it’s perfect, better than the hard and rough fuck they’d enjoyed earlier. He’d never admit to it aloud, but Sylvain knows. He knows that he prefers it like this, soft and loving, taking their time.

“Goddess, Fe,” Sylvain mumbles against the skin of his neck, heavy breaths tumbling from his mouth. “You always feel so perfect around me.”

“Isn’t enough,” says Felix, contrary to the bitter end.

Sylvain presses a kiss against his jaw, and then another, tongue snaking out to trace along the bone. Felix moans, a soft breathy thing, fingers finding Sylvain’s hair again. He tugs, a reminder that he wants, needs more. Sylvain hikes Felix’s thighs up, changing the angle, slipping in what feels like deeper.

It’s the perfect spot, the one that has Felix arching into his touch, toes curling into the sheets. The coil in his gut burns brighter as Sylvain fucks into him with more force and perfect precision.

“Fuck,” murmurs Sylvain into Felix’s ear, losing himself in a crass little moment.

“So good for me,” says Felix, a hand settling against Sylvain’s neck, guiding his mouth back to his once more. When they kiss this time, it’s messy and unhinged, teeth clacking against each other as Felix jolts with every thrust.

Sylvain’s cock feels so good, fills him up so perfectly. Felix will never get enough of this feeling, of this sensation. Overcome by mounting pleasure as his husband takes him so thoroughly.

It takes a lot for Felix to give in, but for this moment, he’s utterly lost.

Sylvain tips over the edge first, hips stuttering as he comes deep. Heavy breaths against Felix’s neck as he languidly kisses the skin there, hand reaching for Felix’s cock. He works him steadily, his hand warm around his length as he squeezes tight.

Felix bites at his lip, slightly overwhelmed. The slide of Sylvain’s hand along the heated skin of his cock, the way that he grinds into him despite his softening cock. The knowledge that he’s been claimed again. Sylvain whispers soft words near his ear, coaxing him to the edge and Felix grows closer and closer, the fire in his gut nearing a fever pitch.

When he comes it’s loud, fingers yanking tightly at Sylvain’s hair as his cock jerks in his grasp. Felix makes a mess of himself, come slick against his belly. But he’s satiated and boneless, melting into the mattress.

Sylvain laughs against his hair, pressing a quick kiss against it. “What was all that about?” he asks after a moment of catching his breath.

Felix doesn’t answer immediately. Sylvain watches him for a beat and then pulls himself out gingerly. Before he can leave the bed for a rag, Felix reaches out to grab his arm.

“It’s fine,” says Felix quietly.

Sylvain smiles that crooked smile of his and settles back beside him. Felix turns, tucking into his side, face resting nearly Sylvain’s collarbone. “I was just thinking,” he says finally.

“I woke up to you staring.”

“Thinking,” repeats Felix. About a lot of things. Their past, their future, the war, and now peace. But mostly-- “About how ridiculous you looked. Did you even brush out your hair?”

Sylvain laughs fully this time, a deep and rumbling thing. Then, his hand finds Felix’s hair, tugging out the tie that holds it together. Fingers glide through his locks, pulling at the knots. “You’re even worse,” he says.”

“Yeah,” says Felix. They both know this conversation isn’t about their hair anymore.

Felix is bone-tired, but they're both weary in their old age. Antiquated. Still, it’s a life that they never thought would be offered. Felix is determined to enjoy it for as long as he can.

“I love you,” says Sylvain into his hair.

Felix replies with a kiss.

[lvllns]

it don't matter to me (wherever we are is where i wanna be) [2/3]

the wayhaven chronicles. felix hauville x kincaid anderson (nb detective). teen and up rating for language. established relationship, mostly fluff with some angst. 2300+ words. (3700+ words total.) — i can be your lucky penny, you can be my four-leaf clover, chapter 2 of 3.

notes: horses! felix! kincaid! somft!

[ao3 link]

—

The walk to the barn doesn’t take nearly as long as Felix expects, it’s not as far from the house as it looks.

Kincaid chatters the whole way, mindless nonsense about the ranch mostly. Felix learns that they breed beef cattle in addition to horses, and some cows specifically for roping. He didn’t think there were specific cows for roping and when he says as much, Kincaid obliges him by explaining the importance of docile cows for rodeo. But apparently, they need to be hazed and seasoned too? They have to get used to horses and people milling about.

Really, maybe the walk doesn’t take as long as he thinks because Kincaid refuses to stop talking.

(Felix is so grateful for him. For the way he seems intent on filling the quiet with whatever he can.)

(He keeps squeezing Kincaid’s hand, grinning when the taller man pauses for a second mid-sentence to look at him with a smile.)

“Anyway, that’s—” Kincaid is cut off with a soft noise. Felix is jerked to a stop as Kincaid freezes in place, eyes going wide as saucers.

“Babe?”

Kincaid shivers. Breaks out of whatever weird trance he’s in and says, “I think that’s Leo.” He whistles. “Mare?”

Another sound, louder this time. A whinny, if Felix remembers right.

And then a red head pokes over a nearby stall door, fuzzy ears straining forward. Her face is mostly grey, but a big white star in the middle of her forehead is still clearly visible.

Felix starts toward her. Ends up dragging Kincaid along because he seems shocked to see her. They get close enough to touch and she immediately, without hesitation, whacks Kincaid in the chest with her entire head. He grunts at the impact but just leans down to touch his forehead to hers.

“You seem surprised to see her,” Felix says quietly, not wanting to break the moment.

Kincaid exhales heavily. Doesn’t lift his face as he starts scratching her neck. “She’s thirty-one years old. It’s just...a lot, to see her again.”

Ah.

That’s it.

Felix slips an arm around Kincaid’s waist. Leans into his side and kisses his shoulder before resting his head against his bicep.

“Anyway,” Kincaid says as he clears his throat. His eyes are shiny with tears and Felix reaches up to wipe a few from his cheeks. Leo has clearly had enough because she whacks Kincaid with her head again, ears flicking back and forth. He rolls his eyes. “Felix, Leo. Leo, Felix.”

Despite all the new white hairs, she looks almost the same as she does in the pictures scattered around Kincaid’s apartment. Where she’s shiny as a copper penny with saddles, buckles, and ribbons around her. Where she’s belly deep in a river, Kincaid sitting on her without any tack. An entire life story between the two of them laid out in photographs on apartment walls, and now Felix is able to meet her.

She extends her nose, nostrils flaring as she sniffs Felix. He chuckles. Reaches out and pets her muzzle.

“Oh, she’s soft!” Felix steps closer, hand moving to scratch at her forehead. She presses into his touch with a quiet snuffle, upper lip wiggling. He can feel Kincaid’s thumb moving over the back of his neck, something repetitive and soothing. “I like her.”

Kincaid laughs. “Good, ‘m glad.” Leo, apparently tired of being pet, snorts and then turns back to the hay in the corner. Kincaid leans on the stall door, elbows crossed. “Real glad you got to meet ‘er.”

Felix slips a hand into Kincaid’s back pocket. “Me too.” He bumps his hip against Kincaid. Grins up at him when he looks over.

“Come on, let’s go put our bag upstairs,” Kincaid says, voice gone soft. He reaches out. Takes Felix’s hand in his and kisses his knuckles. His palm. His wrist. Right over his pulse where it thunders against his skin. “Someone’ll come lookin’ for us soon I’m sure.”

He nods. Tugs and pulls until Kincaid leans down and kisses him, smiling into it. One becomes two and then three before Felix pulls away. He can hear footsteps, the crunch of gravel underneath boots, and he tells Kincaid as much. They slip into a room full of various pieces of tack, saddles and bridles hanging neatly along the walls, and then he’s being led up a set of stairs. The door at the top swings open and—

“Holy shit,” Felix mutters, eyes wide. Kincaid snorts, head tilting to the side. “It’s as big as your place.”

“Were you expectin’ a closet?” He tosses the bag down on a dining chair.

Felix looks around and shrugs. “Nothing like this, that’s for sure.”

It’s huge. Bright. Modern even. It’s an actual apartment above the barn and not some tiny room with a cot. The windows are open, fresh air and sunlight streaming in, and he takes another deep breath.

Somewhere below, a horse whinnies. Kincaid hums and takes Felix’s hand again, lacing their fingers together. “Ready to meet everyone else?”

“Hell yeah.”

Kincaid grins, dimples visible, and they head down back into the barn. They’re barely out of the tack room when: “There he is!”

An older man, hair and beard gone mostly grey, is standing in the middle of the aisleway, a grin on his face. Kincaid’s face breaks as he smiles wide, so wide, and Felix half expects him to rush off alone but he keeps Felix close to his side.

“Good to see you, kid,” the man says. He shifts, leans his shoulder against the wall. “Been a bit.”

Kincaid snorts. “Month or so, yeah.” He finally drops Felix’s hand so he can all but swallow the other man in a hug. It’s brief, a few pats on the back, and then Kincaid is back at his side, hand finding his once more. “Jason, this is Felix. Felix, Jason.”

Jason nods. Holds out his hand and Felix isn’t the tiniest bit surprised to find it rough and calloused, when he takes it. “Glad to finally meet you. Kincaid never stops talkin’ ‘bout you.”

“Oh?” He turns, brow arched, and finds Kincaid looking straight ahead, cheeks pink. “Good things, I hope.”

“Never a bad word.” Another smile but it’s...something. Knowing, Felix thinks. Like Jason is seeing things Kincaid and Felix are too close to each other to notice. It makes his heart trip in his chest. “Anyway, everyone else is grabbin’ horses, and we’ve got some steers that need seasoning. You wanna bulldog, kid?”

And oh, the way Kincaid lights up. Every bit of him flares like a firework. Still, he squeezes Felix’s hand and shakes his head. “I’m happy watchin’, don’t wanna leave Felix by himself.”

Felix blinks. “Oh no, nope.” Kincaid startles. Looks at him with wide eyes, confused. “We drove all the way out here, you have all those pictures hanging up, I want to see you in action.”

It’s delightful the way his partner goes bright red from the tips of his ears down his neck. Felix knows from experience he’s a full body blusher. Knows that his chest is red with it, freckles vanishing beneath the flood of color.

“You sure?” Kincaid shuffles his feet. “I really don’t want you to feel left out or—”

“God you two,” Jason mutters as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You wanna ride, Felix?”

“What?” Now it’s his turn to be confused. “Like...a horse?”

Jason snorts. Rolls his eyes to stare at the ceiling for a moment before he meets Felix’s eyes. “Yeah, we have broke horses here. If you want to, we can get one tacked up for you.”

“Yes!” Felix smiles wide, grip tightening where he’s still holding Kincaid’s hand. “Please!” He rocks on the balls of his feet.

“That’s settled then.” Jason turns to Kincaid. Squeezes his shoulder briefly before letting go. “Sailor is two stalls down from Leo, grab him for Felix. You get French Fry.”

Felix is so stuck on a horse being named French Fry that he misses the last part of the conversation. Kincaid tugs on his hand and they head down the barn aisle until they reach a stall with a big grey horse in it. It’s quick work, a soft cluck and the creaking of metal as the stall is unlocked, and then Felix is holding a rope in his hands with Sailor on the other end.

Kincaid gets them both situated near the tack room, Felix’s ride for the day standing quietly with one hind leg cocked, eyes half-closed, as he brushes him. He watches as Kincaid mutters to himself. Picks up different bits of tack before setting it back down. There’s a pile growing outside near where the horses are tied up. Boots, blanket things to go under the saddle, really confusing tangles of leather that Felix thinks goes on the horse’s face.

It’s a lot of stuff he doesn’t quite understand yet, pieces of Kincaid’s life that remind Felix he’s new here. A recent development. Part of him is yelling that he’s an interloper, he shouldn’t be here and he’s only making it more difficult for Kincaid.

He shakes his head. Grits his teeth and chases that train of thought far, far away, as he focuses on listening to Kincaid’s explanation of each piece of equipment. Kincaid’s own horse is alert, ears pricked forward and eyes tracking the taller man. He’s also a gleaming gold with bright white hair, a big white stripe down his face, and white on all four of his legs.

They talk about everything and nothing as Kincaid gets both horses tacked up. Felix wolf whistles when he throws the saddles up onto the horses, and is rewarded with one flying right off the opposite side of Sailor, hitting the dirt with a thud. By the end of it, Kincaid’s face is pink, his eyes blown, and Felix knows he’s been staring at his arms for too long. There’s a thread of tension, something wavering just a little, and it almost snaps except someone yells Kincaid’s name and the moment is gone.

Felix is walking around the arena on a big grey horse, and he feels...he feels like he belongs here. That part of him insisting that he should be back in Wayhaven is silent now. Kincaid is at his side, helping Felix adjust his position so his feet aren’t sticking way out in front of him, and he’s grateful for the boots Kincaid had bought him a few months ago. Jason had smiled at him. Another younger man, Jordan, had waved. Someone else had given him a thumbs up, and he’s trying to keep names straight with faces but he can’t help getting distracted by the warm feeling at how quickly he’s been accepted into this family.

He reaches down to pat Sailor’s neck before he turns his head to look (up, it’s still up) at Kincaid. “Shouldn’t you go, I don’t know, run around a little bit?”

Kincaid snorts. “Yeah, I gotta warm ‘im up, but I just want to make sure you’re okay first.”

Felix flaps a hand at him. “I’m fine. Sailor’s no unicorn, but he likes me so I don’t think I’ll get kicked off.”

“You need me, just holler,” Kincaid says.

It takes another nod, another promise to tell him if he needs anything at all, before Kincaid speeds up and leaves Felix to himself. It’s nice, really, being able to slowly meander around and observe. He’s always enjoyed that. Watching. He’s Unit Bravo’s infiltration expert for a reason after all. There’s a flow to everything here. Horses moving around each other, cattle banging around in the pens and gates. People shouting back and forth, good-natured ribbing. It reminds him of Unit Bravo. Of the way they’ve all come together over the last few years.

He’s watching Kincaid lope around, smiling and laughing, and Felix is so lost in him that he doesn’t even realize Jason is riding next to him until the older man clears his throat. Felix jolts, careful not to yank the reins, and flashes the man a sheepish smile.

“He’s a good person,” Jason says with a nod toward Kincaid.

Felix can’t stop his eyes from drifting back to his partner. “He is. He’s something really special.”

“I don’t know what he’s all told you about his childhood, but he...had a time of it.”

“He’s told me a bit. Not all of it, I don’t think, but...enough.”

Jason hums. “He used to drive out here every chance he could after we moved the family here.” Felix blinks. It’s hours to get here. Hours. “Yeah, I know what you’re thinkin’, and yeah. Hell, he’d show up on Friday evening and wouldn’t leave until late Sunday night. Then he left for college and he still drove out here once a week, at least.” Jason turns in his saddle to look Felix in the eyes. “He’s a part of this family, a big part, and he’s never brought anyone here. Ever.”

Felix swallows as he pulls Sailor to a halt. “I…”

“This ain’t me tryin’ to scare you, son, this is me tellin’ you that you’re part of this family now too.” Jason eases his horse to a stop, a gentle smile on his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that kid this happy.”

Well.

He doesn’t know what to do with this. Felix looks down at his hands. Finds them shaking, just a little bit. He curls his fingers around the reins and nods. “Thank you.”

A hand claps down on his shoulder. Squeezes and stays put as Jason says, “‘Course.” He grins, wide and toothy. “Now, come on. They’re gonna start throwin’ steers and you need a front row seat for this.”

Felix smiles up at him. Squeezes his legs until Sailor dutifully follows after the other horse. He watches Kincaid haul himself up onto his horse from the ground, eyes watching his shoulders and back, before he blinks and settles in to watch.

When Kincaid winks at him from the chute, cheeks a little pink and heart racing beneath his ribs, something settles in Felix’s chest, and he feels at peace.

[angelicichor]

Hi, I just read your somft bois post. Hypothetically speaking, if one were to test you, how much softer could you go? Theoretically, of course. (In all seriousness I really loved it and I’m deadass gonna read whatever else you have to spare my grubby gremlin hands 💖)

You dare?? Question my somftness skills?? 

Bubba Sawyer:

♥ Bubba’s whole existence is softness personified. This boy is the walking manifestation of warm summer days at the beach with wind blowing in your face, but keeping the sand away, he’s the ice cream, the laughter and the joy of lying face-front in the sun, with the essence of dummy that comes with the realization that you did not put on sunscreen and are now burned. Worth it.

♥ Just the way he waves his hands in excitement when he sees you after a long time (so more than 6 minutes) is enough to make your day so much better than it was before and you ain’t even close to him yet. 

♥ He’s the essence of love, pulling you into a tight bear hug, enveloping you in his soft self, squishing air out of your longs and nuzzling your cheeks with his masked ones, it’s a bit disgusting, really, but he’s so happy to do it that you honestly don’t even care.

♥ Bubba’s a damn gentleman is what he is. He’ll take your coat if you’ve been out, sit you down, undo your shoes, pass you your slippers and proceed to take of that funny looking hat he gave you at some point and that funky scarf you’re wearing that was Nubbin’s gift, you don’t dare to question where either of them got those things, but you adore them never the less, makes you feel like a part of the family and I mean - You are! You’re Bubba’s darling! His angel, his everything! 

♥ He makes sure you know that by showering your freezing face with warm, sloppy kisses and pulling you into another hug, gasping in offence when you weasel your hands under his shirt, stealing his warmth.

♥ This man is a gosh darn walking radiator, fight me on this, I WILL WIN.

♥ Once you’re all dressed for staying home he takes your comparably tiny hands and after being stuck with an awestruck expression for a moment (because how can your skin feel so nice to touch?!) he’ll guide you to the main room and sit you down for a nice, warm meal.

♥ He’s already eaten, so instead he crouches by the table and looks at you lovingly, with those big, adorable eyes. And when you pet his head they close in immediate bliss and he shifts to hug your waist and lie his head on your lap while you’re still eating.

♥ In that way he’s like a cat, you’re stuck now, you cannot move him until you finish your soup. By then he’ll leave by himself to show you proudly a platter of cookies he made with his brother.

♥ They might or might not have razors in them, knowing his bastard brother, so he cracks each one of them open to check if he’s right. Yes, he is. With a lot of huffs he steps out of the room to be angry at Nubbins and you can’t help but laugh a little.

♥ And no, Nubbins doesn’t hate you… he’s just… being Nubbins.

♥ After a few rumbles and crashes your boy is back, dusting off his hands in an almost comedic way and picks you up without a warning to carry you to a couch with a TV in front of it.

♥ He sits you down, pats your head to make you stay and you nod at him with a happy smile, watching him leave and come back just a moment later with the cracked cookies. Scooting you over a bit he sits down, the couch creaking under his weight ever so slightly and he puts the platter on the small coffee table before lying down and pulling you on top of him, gently, carefully and only once he notices that he’s alright with moving you.

♥ The satisfied noise he makes once you’re on his chest and belly force you to hold back a squeak, because it’s just so adorable. 

♥ “You’re taking a nap, Bubba?” You ask gleefully, pinching his masked nose lightly. He nods eagerly and just huff a laughter. “Okay, but an hour and no longer, okay? I got work to do.” He pouts a bit and traps you in his arms. You’re not going anywhere before he gets his rest, he’s worked hard for it!

♥ The TV is turned on and before you know it your boy is snoring underneath you, his expression stuck in a stupid little smile that makes your heart flutter.

♥ I hope you don’t need to pee, because you’re stuck on him for an hour now.

Thomas Hewitt:

♥ Moving in with Thomas (without a real choice, but you CAN’T complain) turned out to make your days way more busy, with Luda Mae and Hoyt keeping you on your feet, tending to the house, it’s surroundings and it’s occupants if they needed anything. Thomas had a similar treatment, but being a country boy he was used to it, your city self couldn’t get accustomed that fast, so you worked slower than him, but a bit were a bit more careful with every task, so Luda was more than happy to have you help. Less dishes being broken that way and all.

♥ So at the end of the day you’d be completely wasted and wanting nothing more to just sit down and rest, but almost always Monty would call you to do one more thing, just to see you frown and pout and mope your way back to him to ask what he wanted.

♥ Except this time you don’t make it to his wheelchair, being lifted in the air and placed on a firm shoulder, your hands hitting a familiar, muscular back and your eyes spotting a very squeezable butt that could only belong to Tommy.

♥ Monty’s about to say something, but the Behemoth is quick to turn to him and squint his eyes, daring him to steal you away from him when it was HIS time to have you to himself.

♥ You weren’t dating, at least not yet (at least you’re pretty sure you ain’t???), but you were dear to him and each time someone made you do something when he was just about to grab you he grew just a bit more agitated and it showed. His walk was stiffer, more determined than usual and you were happy that his frame was so solid, keeping you from bouncing with his every step, huffing something under his breath, but you knew better than to expect any words to actually come out. Though he did speak sometimes, simple words, nothing more.

♥ He brought you upstairs into the room he rarely uses and slammed the door behind him with another huff, letting you slip down from his shoulders, you then giggling at his tired eye roll. You knew Hoyt made him chase after a group of teens today, too lazy to do his own damn work, so this Giant was W A S T E D.

♥ To confirm that, he kicked his boots off and slammed onto his bed, jumping a bit as he hit the mattress face first, groaning into the soft pillows. You couldn’t help but laugh at how over-dramatic he was being. Very few people knew this, but Tommy is a sassy bastard when he’s not around Hoyt.

♥ With another creak you saw Thomas turning, a lazy smile hidden under his mask, nudging his head towards the dresser, where a radio was laying, a few CDs right next to it. “Ya want me to play us somethin’?” You asked and he nodded quickly, sitting up and hunching forward slightly, eyes fixed on you as you looked through the albums. “Metallica will do?” you didn’t look back this time, so he just hummed in agreement and lied back down, letting the soft bass at the start of Enter Sandman hush his mind.

♥ This man looks so damn peaceful when his eyes are closed, his usually furrowed brows relaxing and head bobbing slightly to the rhythm of the music, barely paying any attention to you moving onto the bed and sitting on your legs right next to his chest, only opening one eye to see what you were up to.

♥ Didn’t expect to see you pouting though.

♥ Quietly you poked his covered cheek and he understood, lifting his tired body up and turning so you faced his back. Your heart skipped a beat, realizing how much trust he was putting in you, as your small fingers undid the belt that held the dark leather mask to his face, his hair falling down in cascades as he pulled it off, his breath stuttering slightly. It did every time, because even if he trusted you not to make fun of him or flinch in disgust, his trauma was still there and just like always he moved to press himself into the pillows as quick as possible, grunting, clearly displeased.

♥ Taking the opportunity you climb on his back and lay down, groaning as you felt every muscle on your poor, sore back relax. He laughed under you when your arms went around his neck in a nuzzling hug, turning his face to look at you and blushed ever so slightly when your lazy smile welcomed him.

♥ ”Allo, handsome.” You joked and he huffed in annoyance, lifting himself and throwing you off him in the process, letting you fall to his side with a small ‘oof’. “Rude.”

♥ He knew, but it’s an eye for an eye. At least now he’s actually facing you and you grin at his face, disfigured as it might be, you honestly didn’t care.

♥ ‘Sad But True’ rolled on and he starred at the radio, letting his head rest on his fist. Not a favorite for either of you, but still good. 

♥ You adored those evenings with Thomas, quiet, calm, chill, spent on listening to music and helping each other relax, cuddling, laughing at each other, play wrestling, banging you heads to the rhythm of the music and massaging sore muscle if needed. Tommy was great at the last part, well, he was amazing at all of those things, but his fingers were literal magic, kneading your back just right for you to relax, not even expecting you to do the same, because he knew your fingers hurt when you massaged him, muscle does that and it makes your hands sore after.

♥ But with those darling moments it always made you wonder just WHAT were you. It wasn’t just a friendship, you weren’t dating and there was no sex involved so, what then?

♥ Not bearing the question any longer you shoot up, startling him a bit and pinning him under you, eyes determined, making him chuckle at your sudden courage, ready to pounce back if you wanted to wrestle. “Thomas Hewitt Brown.” You start and he tilts his head in confusion, one brow raised, waiting for your next words - what did he do NOW? “What…” your gaze shifted to the side, not unnoticed by him and now both of you were blushing slightly. “What… am I to you?” finally you break the silence and look back at him, only to find his eyes wide in shock.

♥ It wasn’t your question, but the sudden realization that he has NO IDEA.

♥ Cue the slightly panicked shrug and him sitting up, holding you in place on his lap, making you blush at just how close he was. Usually neither of you would mind, but now with both your thoughts racing and ‘Wherever I May Roam’ surprisingly rolling up, the closeness was suffocating.

♥ He looks away, thumbs drawing circles in you back, furrowing his brows before smiling lightly, a cocky grin and a spark of deviousness in his eye as he pulled you closer to him by gently placing his hand at the back of your head.

♥ ”Tommy?” you asked, your body trembling when his dark eyes met yours in a heated daze, asking for something and when he inched closer, tilting his head slightly to the side and you didn’t shove away he knew he found his answer, kissing your lips softly, his heart clenching with pure joy and warmth when you kissed back, again and again, sweetly and carefully. Once he pulled away you were both blushing like crazy and with a happy giggle he pushed you down to his chest and slammed his back into the bed.

♥ You were huffing and puffing in embarrassment and he just laughed, petting your hair.

♥ “That answers no–” “Mine.” He cut you off and you rose slightly, amazed to hear his voice vibrating through his huge chest, the cocky grin not leaving his lips. With another huff you decided to just lay on him, digging your chin into his chest in a form of revenge, feeling his whole body shake in  warm laughter.

♥ “FINE. But that doesn’t explain a thing!” you groan jabbing at his side with your fingers and the way he catches your hand you know that you just brought a round of rough housing on yourself. “Oh, you’re ON.” you hiss and attack his sides, determined to win against him this time.

♥ Spoilers: You absolutely won… not.

Michael Myers (RZ):

♥ To say that Mikey is a problem child would be a SEVERE understatement.

♥ It’s not even his violent tendencies or his obsessive behavior, but the years he spent in the sanitarium, being feared by every single nurse, orderly, guard and doctor taught him, that he has enough power to just take what he wants whenever he wants it.

♥ Even if it meant holding you hostage in his ridiculously huge and strong arms, pressing his chin against the top of your head and sitting on the floor, because your protests made you fall of the couch and he’s NOT giving you the chance to slip away from him AGAIN.

♥ You’re both sitting there, brows furrowed, because he won’t let you go shopping and you are STARVING and it’s HIS fault because he’s just too damn big for his own good and ate ALL YOUR FOOD.

♥ And he won’t even apologize! No, instead he’s forcing you to give him love and affection! That touch starved bastard!

♥ “You’re such a dick.” you groan , trying to jab him with your elbows, but his hold is just too tight. Noticing your struggles he tenses his muscle to squeeze you inside him, making you squeak at the sudden tightness. “MICHAEL!!” you raise your tone and he groans, standing up with you and before you can even think of breaking free he’s throwing you on the sofa, falling onto you right after, knocking the air out of your lungs. “MICHAAAAEEEEEL!!!” you whine, shoving his arms to no avail. You know damn well that his gosh darn mountain of a man ain’t moving an inch unless he wants to humor you and he’s being a grumpy bastard right now.

♥ A low growl runs through his throat and his gaze shots up to you, making you shut up immediately. “Shut up and pet me.” he complains, nuzzling into your chest angrily like a damned child. 

♥ You open your mouth wide, shocked, appalled, distraught, how DARE HE.

♥ “MICHAEL I’M STARVIIIIIIING!!” you moan, slipping your hands from under him (he let you because how are you supposed to pet him otherwise) and brutally ruffling his mane of dirty blonde hair. He catches your hands and squints at you, huffing a loose strand of hand off his face, unmasked for once. You gulp and push further into the sofa, making yourself smaller as he loomed over you, a wide grin slowly rising on his face as he realized something that would give so much trouble. “Michael… we’re both adults… be rational.” you try to reason with him, but he’s already off you, moving towards the kitchen to look for something. Your face pales as you realize what he’s look for and jump of the sofa in PURE FEAR.

♥ You can hear a faint hum of approval as he found the object and is now turning towards you, his eyes squinted in a sinister smile and soon you can hear the whip of rope being pulled together, a lumbering laughter echoing from his chest. 

♥ “Mikey, no.” you warn.

♥ “Run.” But his warning sounds stronger, and you’re sprinting off with a laughing shriek as he chases after you with a wide, childish grin on his face.

Am I grinning while writing those??? A B S O L U T E L Y. 

Does my face hurt from doing that? Y A 

Hope this is somft enough for u bc I am just…. S HAkinG. So much fluffiness, we a pillow factory in this binch now. Amazing.