#Der Gentleman

[lounesdarbois]

Bernhard Roetzel

Le luxe s'achète, le goût s'acquiert, l'élégance est innée. Bernhard Roetzel est l'auteur de manuels d'éducation du goût portant sur les détails de la culture occidentale. Ses livres illustrés Der Gentleman (1999) et Traditional Style (2000) sont des reportages photographiques de chaque aspect concret de la  Culture européenne: le vêtement, l'ameublement, les arts de la table, l'éducation des enfants, l'ordonnancement urbain, la classification des loisirs, jusqu'à l’entretien d’une pelouse, au cirage des chaussures ou à la préparation du pique-nique champêtre. Ce sont là des choses connues? Pourtant nous redécouvrons à neuf chacune d'entre elles, ressuscitées, à la lumière de photos et de commentaires dont l'efficacité sont sans concurrence dans ce domaine. M. Roetzel est un réenchanteur de tout ce que nous aimons dans le monde.

Il y avait davantage de sagesse dans le concret des gestes quotidiens de nos grands-parents que dans la pseudo-philosophie du 20ème siècle. Vivre ainsi aujourd'hui, en Français traditionnel, est une voie ouverte à qui veut la prendre: la Culture Européenne détaillée par Roetzel est intemporelle ; la forme de cette Culture touche à une perfection qui ne souffre ni ajout ni retranchement.

Nous vivons au milieu des pièces d'un fabuleux héritage et y sommes accoutumés au point de ne plus même le voir. Ce faisant nous perdons l'usage de ce legs, oublions d'où nous venons, qui nous sommes et ce que nous faisons.

Un homme annonce-t-il vouloir diriger une ferme, un village, une ville ou une région? Pour évaluer la confiance à lui accorder vous étiez jusqu'ici habitués à écouter ses discours. Vous examinerez désormais la manière dont cet homme a dirigé son propre domaine: son jardin, sa maison, son studio de 20 mètres carrés, sa toilette du jour. L'homme fidèle en peu de choses est capable de grandes choses dit l’Evangile.

Notre monde du tertiaire, du débat, de l'abstrait, est rempli de directeurs de cabinet mais vide de chef de protocole. Aux "valeurs" il est bon de joindre les actes. C'est la stature, l'incarnation, l'exemple vivant qui nous donnera sans recours aux mots les clés de la vraie Culture. "Je n'ai point besoin de sermon mais de délivrance légère" disait Céline.

Der Gentleman est à la fois une encyclopédie du vêtement masculin, jalonnée d'encadrés, de bonnes astuces, et une notice d'utilisation, un vrai mode d'emploi de la vie pratique. Si Der Gentleman constitue le catalogue de l'Européen habillé, Traditional Style explore le cadre de vie de ce même homme. Ces deux titres complémentaires ont pour objet ce que les peuples occidentaux ont produit de plus beau, de plus intelligent, de plus pratique, bref d'objectif, au point d'y convertir le monde entier: porter un pantalon, manger avec des couverts dans une assiette, s'asseoir sur une chaise, dormir dans un lit. La fenêtre, le savon, la salle de bains et mille autres objets spécifiquement occidentaux sont eux aussi devenus objets universels.  Roetzel a expliqué, illustré chacun de ces éléments considérés dans leur finition la mieux aboutie.

Est-ce en raison du fameux "esprit de système" germanique qu'il fallait que Bernhard Roetzel, allemand, fût le pédagogue le plus complet sur la culture anglaise, par exemple? L'Angleterre, l'Italie et la France sont des revendicateurs bruyants d'un certain art de vivre. Il existe en Allemagne une classe d'esthètes ignorée du reste du monde et peu soucieuse de s'en faire connaître. La bourgeoisie patrimoniale et industrieuse de Cologne, Munich, Hanovre, Brême, Hambourg, aux bourgeoisies très Heimat, connaît bien ses codes culturels : habitat, vêtement, sport, éducation, voiture, art et artisanat. Une bourgeoisie probablement plus raffinée, plus enracinée que la parisienne, que la londonienne, plus sérieuse, plus discrète.

M. Roetzel est un sujet qui s'efface pour ne montrer que l'objet, la chose en soi. En cela il rend davantage service à la cause qu'il sert que les "sartorialistes" montreurs de costume issus du youtubage. Seule doit demeurer la Culture, dont le vêtement et l'ameublement sont des catégories "superficielles par profondeur", parmi d'autres.

La production d’une Culture est la preuve de la Conscience de Soi d’un peuple. Les primitifs ne produisent pas de culture. Plus un peuple a de Conscience de Soi et plus la Culture qu’il produit est codifiée. L'exaltation de l'intelligence individuelle est une marque de basse époque, source de divisions hélas durables. La Culture, elle, est une intelligence collective, un pacifique ensemble d'habitudes forgées par l'expérience concrète de la vie, un tissu de réticences du Je en faveur du Nous, une science de la sous-expression (understatement), un code de reconnaissance communautaire à usage interne pour l'exercice du Bien Commun. La Culture était très understatement jusqu'à la fin des années 1990, avant les années Eden Park, avant la vague tapageuse du faux preppy, du genre gala d'école de commerce, lorsque l'argent était encore une chose un peu honteuse et que les classes sociales d'avant internet vivaient dans un relatif cloisonnement. Charme discret de la petite bourgeoisie locale, où êtes-vous ?

M. Roetzel écrit non en conseiller en mode mais en technicien de la culture attentif aux faits, aux actes et aux objets qui équipent celle-ci, il rédige un rapport d'enquête renseigné, neutre, qui démontre chaque argument par la photographie appropriée.

Le vrai style ne peut être sujet qu'à un ou deux changements mineurs par génération. Contrairement à la mode le style est stable, sa supériorité n'est pas dans le renouvellement cyclique de nouveautés mais dans le perfectionnement d'une Forme qui vise la plus pure exactitude fonctionnelle. L'ergonomie du vêtement bien pensé, l'importance de connaissances en anatomie pour former de bons modélistes, vastes sujets qui sont la voie royale du bel habillement.

Deux principales tendances accaparent les hommes: ils sont plutôt exhibitionnistes ou bien plutôt voyeurs c'est ainsi. Les exhibitionnistes sont la majorité de ce monde qui gît au pouvoir du mauvais goût, individus à haute estime de soi et basse conscience de soi. Monsieur Roetzel appartient au tempérament exactement opposé, celui du voyeur, celui des hommes en retrait qui aiment voir et n'être pas vus, qui ont tout compris et que personne n'écoute, c'est pourquoi ils écrivent.

[minayuri]

Box 3, Seat 2 - Edgar Hull, only son of the manufacturer Paul Hull - 90 million - member of the club "17 + 4"

Paul Richter in DR. MABUSE, DER SPIELER (1922) | dir. Fritz Lang

[roamingtigress]

OK but imagine a universe where there's multiple Dutches (double Dutches!). Like a Barbie World but with many variations of this guy with different codenames/nicknames, based on his different outfits, chapters or game titles. Like Epilogue Dutch would be Santa Dutch/Sad Dutch/Goth Santa Dutch), Storymode Dutch could be Stereotype Dutch, RDR1 could be Danger Depressed Dutch, Colter Dutch could be Snow Dutch and the like. My RDO Dutch could be Babygirl Dutch or Weird Dutch, I realize that he'd probably be picked on as he daubles in bounty hunting and the other Dutches wouldn't be too down with that.

Then there's the sad realization that some of them wouldn't have Hoseas :( More Hoseas would need to be part of this universe so that the Hosealess ones have a Hosea now too. Otherwise they could be fighting over the Hoseas and making plans.

And lets not stop there in addition to all the Hoseas and Dutches why not we could also have 100,000 Arthurs and Johns too (because the clothing options are endless) and all the ladies and all the Lennies and Seans and Charleses omg multiple Micahs too.

[daughterofhecata]

Weil ich grad noch mal in Superpapagei reingesehen habe - schon sehr mutig von Ben Nevis, Morton sagen zu lassen, er wisse gar nicht, wie man sich prügelt, wenn das hier literally einer seiner ersten Auftritte ist.

[marastriker]

speaking of favorite characters

[ghoulsister1]

Marc Warren Characters & Their Reaction To You Owning Squishmallows/Squishables Pt 2

🔍Piet Van Der Valk (Van Der Valk Reboot)🔍

●Is curious about the plushies, wonders why you do collect them. But after explaining to him he'll just roll with it. Shrugs it off if anybody asks about it at work. "It's their own thing, just go with it" is his response.

●Lucienne thinks it's cute and whenever you two meet she always asks what plushie you are on the lookout for, makes a mental note to buy one for you as a gift.

●When you and Piet's relationship starts to bloom more, you bring two of your plushies on to his boat whenever you spend time with him. You become confident enough to leave one behind on the boat. The next day it was still there, safe.

●So you decide to sometimes leave one with him.

●"So, you've moved into the next step of your relationship it seems since their plushie is here" Said Lucienne smirking. Piet rolled his eyes at that but gave a little smirk back.

●He buys one from time to time, sometimes two. He likes hunting for ones that are unique or exclusive, he particularly is fond of the Black Light Squad Squishmallows. He does love Squishable sea creatures too. "They look, goofy" is his comment on them.

●You do gift him a Squishmallow, Steve The Seagull. He tries to play it off, saying "You can have him" until you tell him you already have one of your own or firmly tell him it's for HIM and HIM alone! In the end, he takes the gift with a thank you and kiss to the forehead, blushing a bit as he holds the plushie awkwardly.

●"You live on a boat and go sailing, what better companion to have then a seagull" is your reason for gifting Piet Steve The Seagull. He smilies a bit at that. "Well, that's true" is his answer.

●One time took him to work in the office. Steve has a spot at his desk next to his laptop, just chilling. Of course is protective of the plushie. When Brad feigned reaching to grab the plushie to toss him into the basket Piet looked at him dead in the eyes and just said "Don't". Brad raised his hands up in surrender and walked away.

●Grows fond of his plushie companion, often talks to him on his boat about his latest cases he's working on, even asking for Steve's opinion on different matters. "What do you think eh?" Piet would ask, looking at Steve.

●The plushie became a little popular at the office. Hendrix would often greet the plushie, Cloovis would leave any paperwork for Piet next to Steve in case Piet was out getting coffee and Lucienne would just fawn over it, taking various pictures of it in different parts of the office. Even Brad would take a few pics. Even the newbies!

●In the end, Piet gifts you a bird of your own. The Griffin Squishmallow from the Black Light Squad. "He's gonna keep you company on days when I'm at work, just like Steve keeps me company" Said Piet smiling warmly as you squeal in delight and embrace him in a loving hug that he happily returns.

🦇Dracula (Dracula 2006)🦇

●Looks at them with a curious look, titling his head.

●You explain to him why you love to collect them, he listens intently and takes in everything. In the end he is perfectly fine with them. "If it makes my bride happy then who am I to deny her?" Is The Count's response with a small warm smile. You practically grin and let out a little squeal of joy.

●You move in to Dracula's London home, the large master bedroom perfect space and with such a large gorgeous Queen sized bed, there's enough space for you two and a few plushies. Large plushies have a special corner in the room next to your reading nook.

●He allows you to indulge in your plushie shopping. Does buy some for you, especially exclusive and very rare ones. He is fond of the cute dark plushies collection you have, made up of skeletons, bats and more.

●Some nights are spent cuddling a Squishmallow in bed in your beloved vampire's embrace while he sometimes read aloud to you or just traces soothing circles in your skin as you drift off to sleep.

●You eventually gift him a mini bat Squishmallow. Dracula at first is reluctant to have it near him but eventually grows to keep it nearby with him, evening cuddling it when he's in bat form. Awww!

●On Valentine's, you gift him a Plague Doctor Squishable and Dracula gifts you the Nurse Plague Doctor. You love seeing the two plushies propped up together.

●Things do change up when Lucy is turned and joins you. Dracula worries that there may be jealous involved but is relieved to find how quickly you and Lucy both grow close and become best friends. You even allow her to cuddle with a few of your plushies to help her settle in and sleep at times. Dracula grows even more protective of both you and Lucy though sometimes it's Dracula and Lucy that grow more protective of you!

●Despite his bloodthirsty reputation and vicious nature in hunting and killing anyone who stands in his way, The Count has a softness reserved only for his beloved, that includes gifting and helping you in filling your plushie collection.

🌿The Gentleman With Thistledown Hair🌿 (Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell)

●Is visibly bewildered. Like I mean he's befuddled!🤔

●Like no gems? No fancy jewellery? No rare riches you collect? Only, soft toys? Is what he's thinking in his head.

●You explain why, he listens but at the same time is still bewildered. "Humans and their strange habits" are his thoughts on the matter. He looks over at the plushie collection with a air of distaste, scowling at the plushies's smiling faces and cute eyes. You finish your explanation and offer The Gentleman a frown as you notice his scowling at your beloved plushies. 🤨

●"You just have to grow use to them since we are partners sir" You Say unyielding as The Gentleman frowns at you but ultimately says nothing and somewhat agrees to let the situation be. But that doesn't stop him from causing some form of mischief.😑

●He first tries to bargain with you. "You have pictures of horses, you are fond of horses. I can gift you a gorgeous and most noble purebred steed with a beautiful engraved saddle with gold trimmings!" Said The Gentleman joyfully, eyes gleaming. 🤩

●"But I live in the city and I have no stable sir" You Replied. The Gentleman frowns but you suggest in buying a small horse which The Gentleman smiles at that notion.🐴

●Only for The Gentleman to frown and scowl when you open up a package from some online shop and showed off Lily The Horse from the Squishmallow Kentucky Derpy set that you ordered online. You smile warmly as you cuddle Lily and grinned at The Gentleman. 😁

●I don't know if Faeries really sleep, possibly not I mean The Gentleman dances all night at the balls at Lost Hope but if you manage to convince him to lie next to you in bed for a cuddle, expect for him to delicately pick up the plushies on the bed and then unceremoniously toss them off the bed. You frown and shoot a glare at him, to which The Gentleman raises an eyebrow at you with a look that just says "What?" In a sly way. He knows what he did!😏

●I fully think he will be jealous to see you cuddling the plushies more. He will just then wrap his arms around you tight and hold you. "Why cuddle those fabric creatures when you have me, my dear?" The Gentleman would ask. You can't help but blush and smile softly at The Gentleman's obvious jealously of your soft squishys. It's kinda cute.💚

●You do assure The Gentleman that you care for him deeply and that you hope he cares for you in return in some way and that he doesn't have to worry. 💚

●The Gentleman plays it off though. "Me jealous? Nonsense my dear!" He would say but of course he's jealous. But he tries to play nicely when the plushies are involved, though he stills tosses them off the bed and one time tried to hide them away. Thankfully Stephen always finds them and returns them to their place in your bedroom.😊

●"Really sir, Y/N cares for these soft plushies. I dread to think how upset she'd be if anything were to happen one of them. She even saves up extra money just to treat herself to buying one or three" Explained Stephen. It was then, The Gentleman had an idea. Since you and him are partners and he loves to gift the people he takes an interest in, The Gentleman decides to help you grow your plushie collection despite his repulsion of them.☺️

●So to your pleasant surprise, you wake up to find a cute Squishable Woodland Plague Nurse on your bed. You grinned excitedly and hugged the cute cottagecore Plague Nurse. Then The Gentleman appeared, he smirked warmly at you before you ran to embrace him in a hug. He felt a warmth in his heart at that.🥰

●But of course you did question if this "gift" had something attached. There was an old saying that "you must never accept gifts from the Faeries". 😬

●The Gentleman scoffed and smirked at that. "We have worked together for a long time now have we not my dear? Have I ever deceived you once?" Asked The Gentleman. You smile and confirm he hasn't since you don't ask for anything that does require some sort of bargain or deal. ✨️

●The Gentleman looks for specific plushies. Of course lots of the plushies he picks are exclusive and special, ones that are rare and hard to find, ones that are beautifully designed like with some bright colours, glittery parts and ones that are quite magical, like unicorns and dragons. You eventually gift him a plushie. If it's a Squishmallow, it's Mint The Horse because well the green colour. If it's a Squishable, it's the King Raven. "Not Raven King, King Raven" You Said when The Gentleman snarls at it before slightly relaxing. "At least this King knows who's really in charge of Lost Hope" Said The Gentleman smiling. You smile happily. 💚

🩷Part 3 Coming Soon!🩷

[lord-here-i-am]

Source

[cowboyfromh3ll]

you said to do headcannons right?

can you do sex headcannons for the members of the gang? Only ones you're comfortable with obv. Personally, I don't care much for Micah (I want to set him on fire) so feel free to leave him out if you don't feel like writing for him

But the usual Dutch, John, Javier, Arthur, Charles, and anybody else you feel like are just perfect. I love your writing, so I'm excited to see your take on these

<3

Sex HC Ft. Van Der Linde Gang

(Dutch Van Der Linde, John Marston, Javier Escuella, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy, Micah Bell, Sean Macguire, Sadie Adler)

I should write for the girls more

Warnings: Smut, duh

Dutch Van Der Linde

He probably loves roleplaying

Pretending he's the outlaw and you're the officer punishing him

But most times he loves being in control of you, thinks it's so attractive when you submit completely to him and become his pliable little servant

Likes it when you wear expensive jewelry and gifts he buys you with nothing else on

Definitely wants you to call him Sir

Says the most poetic and flowery things to you during

Probably enjoys receiving but LOVES giving head. Views it as another way to take control

Quickies with him are non existent. To him, sex and intimacy are an art, and he will take his time with every little detail and aspect of it

Enjoys playful brattiness, definitely a brat tamer

I can see him being into BDSM. Ball gags, leather crops, leashes, blindfolds, etc

John Marston

Super messy, super rough, super desperate

Pussy eating pro. I'm talking mind blowing, back arching, toe curling, sheet gripping head. ALWAYS asks if he can go down on you

Acts like every time you two have sex will be the last

On the contrary though, I feel like he'd be into edging

Also doesn't mind letting you be dominant, he has such submissive energy

Mayhaps a mommy kink, because I can also see him calling you mommy

Would let you tie him up, totally at your mercy

He loses any semblance of shame, will beg, cry, whimper, you name it

Could consent to just about anything, if you tell him to bark he'll bark

Gets carried away when during sex sometimes, just gets absolutely drunk from pleasure

Javier Escuella

Incredibly romantic and passionate

He can fuck, but he can also make love

So much sexual stamina, and makes every time you have sex absolutely unforgettable

Loves to make sure you are as comfortable as possible and feel as though you have enough privacy. Even if it means paying for a hotel, he'll do anything to ensure your comfort

But if you wanna have risky public sex he's more than willing to as well lmao

Holds you and whispers how much he loves you while he thrusts slowly

But if y'all are fucking he'll say the filthiest shit he can conjur up in his mind while thrusting as hard and fast as he can

Slaps and grips anything he can hold onto

Overwhelms all of your senses and stimulates you in multiple ways at once

Loves cumming inside you but if not inside then on your torso or face

Arthur Morgan

Loves putting his whole weight on you when y'all fuck

Just simply pinning you down with the size of him drives him crazy

Is such a gentleman even during sex. Always stops and asks how you are and if you like how he's doing

Insists you don't have to go down on him but secretly loves it when you do

His favorite positions are ones where you're totally helpless like mating presses or locking your arms behind you

Whenever he fucks you from behind he wraps his massive arm around your neck. Idly squeezes down on your neck

Enjoys sex totally naked, makes it feel more intimate exposing yourselves fully to each other

But he loves it if you wear cute outfits for him just so he can take it off you

But he absolutely loves quickies. Complains they're too risky but every time you suggest one he's unbuckling his belt before you can finish your sentence

Definitely does the knee thing

Charles Smith

He is a pure giver. You will always cum at least 3 times or else he won't feel like he did a thorough job.

Will ignore his own aching cock as long as he can see you squirm in ecstasy

Your pleasure is his pleasure

Doesn't care if he doesn't get to cum tbh

Definitely aware of his size and uses it to his advantage if you're into that

Cages you in his arms, holds you down, puts you in choke holds, etc

I feel like he'd be pretty vanilla and you'd be the one to bring kinks to the table if anything. Will honestly do most anything you want if it brings you pleasure

Soft but firm touches, like every touch is done with intent and thought

Type to make out with you for hours without any actual stimulation and be content. Will see you off with the bluest balls.

Lenny Summers

He's still pretty young so I believe his experience would be limited

You two are probably eachother's first everythings, atleast you're his

Probably cums real fast but makes up for it with enthusiam

Will try out so many things with you, the two of you will both bring ideas to the table

Tries to start things off slow but his excitement gets the best of him

SO MUCH communication and talking during (feedback, jokes, etc...)

Very forward with his needs

Asks for hand/blow jobs a lot to blow off some steam

Very fast learner, and probably very risky

I feel like he'd ask to finger you a lot in risky situations

There's been instances where he just forgets foreplay altogether and just wants to go at it

Kieran Duffy

Submissive as hell

Definitely whimpers

Let's you take the lead 99% of the time

Will cum within five minutes max, and it really takes it out of him

Super sensitive literally everything. Touch him anywhere and he's blushing and squirming

Loves it if you wrap your thighs around his head

That being said, enjoys face sitting

Feels reassured when you tell him what to do and help him in the process

Hands roam all over you, it's like he can't fathom that you're a real being that's actually doing this with him

Eyes roll back and his face goes red when he cums. He's super embarassed about it

Micah Bell

SO rough. Drags you into position and commands you to do certain things

Likes slapping, hair pulling, spitting, I feel like he'd even be into piss. All of the above would go both ways for him.

Hate sex with him goes crazy ong. And after arguments? Just fucking all your anger away

Into degrading for sure

Sex is definitely the best emotional release for the both of you without actually hurting eachother

He's into marks. That entails scratches, bites, bruises

Make him bleed, literally beat the shit out of him during sex and he'll let it slide

Sex is a constant battle for dominance

Probably makes you do embarassing things for him like bark

Also puts you in obscene and embarassing positions just for his own pleasure

If anyone ever heard y'all have sex they'd think it sounds more like an argument and a fist fight than love making

Sean Macguire

The goofiest man during sex, not even intentionally either. He'll say the stupidest thing you've ever heard with his whole chest and you'll have to ask if he's serious

"You ready for the Macguire special?"

Loud ass moans, cannot contain them. If you're into public sex you better either prepare to be caught or mentally prepare yourself for the influx of scoldings/questions that'll come later

LOVES playful brattiness or when you want to take control. He's all for it

Has fantasies of being woken up with head

Will do the same for you in return if that's what it takes to enact his fantasies

Also into roleplay but way cornier shit like you're a nurse and he's a patient. Indulges in costumes as well

Drunk sex is the best because it's combining two of his favorite things

Sadie Adler

Also definitely does the knee thing...

Genuinely one of the sweetest and more passionate lovers, and it will translate during sex

Super gentle and passionate

Lot's of "I love you"s exchanged

Never any space between you, your limbs constantly intertwined as you kiss and move against eachother

Either of you can take the role as dom, it doesn't matter to her

Smiles the whole time out of pure adoration for you

Can be super sultry and kinky when the time calls for it though

Not opposed to being a little rougher but I can't see her going too far with that

Thinks you're far too delicate and special to be treated in such a way

[synthwavecryptid]

Wolf in sheep’s clothing

(van der linde has a gentleman werewolf, and old dogs can still bite)

[saddleups]

𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒.

★ STATUS . . . ongoing, arthur morgan x f!reader. 18+ smut mdni !!

★ CW . . . voyeurism, female masturbation, male masturbation, arthur's kind of a meanie.

★ SUMMARY . . . recently welcomed into dutch van der linde's gang, has a tense first encounter with arthur morgan, who is suspicious of her and questions her trustworthiness. after a sharp exchange, she withdraws to her tent to find solace. meanwhile, arthur, tasked with returning her forgotten journal, approaches her tent but hesitates when he sees the intimate silhouette of her body through the illuminated canvas.

★ AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . really don't know what washed over me. this was initially meant as a drabble , but somehow bloomed into what is going to be a continuing story. as the start of the story, it's loaded with "setting the scene" mostly to establish a dynamic between the reader and arthur. however , it does get spicy towards the end ;)

An orphan, a wanderer, and most notably, a thief for hire. Your occupation brought you countless adversaries, shaped by a lifetime of hardship. The Wild West wasn’t forgiving, especially for someone like you. It forced you to compromise whatever moral compass you’d developed, exchanging it for a life filled with unsavory characters. Your skills became notorious in Lemoyne, earning you a wanted poster of your own—though the paltry $3,000 bounty made you wonder if the authorities truly knew your worth.

One man, however, saw your potential: Dutch Van der Linde. Knowing Dutch’s reputation, you were well aware there was no honor among thieves, but the price he offered for your services was one you couldn't afford to refuse.

"I'm a man who keeps his word," Dutch said, locking eyes with you. You stiffened momentarily, your guard raised.

"And if you don’t, I’ll have you dead," you warned, your voice steady.

Dutch chuckled, raising his palms in mock surrender. "I'll take you to my camp, introduce you to my people," he said, patting his chest for emphasis. "I take care of my own. I'll take care of you too, ma’am, ya hear?"

You clenched your jaw, swallowing hard before releasing a sigh. Camps, people—these weren't things you were accustomed to. Yet, the promise of a warm fire and a decent meal was hard to ignore. Stepping forward, you motioned with your boot. "Be a gentleman and lead the way."

Dutch quickened his pace, guiding you to his horse. Retrieving your own, you both rode off toward the confines of Clemens Point.

As you arrived at the secluded camp, the thick forest enveloped the intimate commune. Pulling on the reins, your horse came to a halt behind Dutch’s. He dismounted and extended a hand to help you down. You ignored his gesture, earning another chuckle.

"Your independence is admirable," Dutch said, amused. "Maybe you'll set a good example."

"I won’t be staying long," you replied curtly.

Dutch nodded, unfazed. "Come on, now, lemme introduce ya."

You followed behind him, scanning your surroundings, planning your escape if needed. Clemens Point had its rustic charm, much like the rest of Lemoyne, but it wasn’t a place you intended to linger. As you approached the heart of the camp, the residents began to take notice. Some watched from a distance, while others stepped closer. You stayed close to Dutch, observing the crowd.

"Bring a lady for the night?" one man jeered. You tried to get a glimpse of the man behind such a crude remark, catching only the sight of a weathered hat adorned with a feather.

"It ain’t like that," Dutch countered.

"Well, if she’s with you, she sure ain’t cheap," the man sneered.

You felt anger flare in your chest.

"Arthur!" Dutch barked.

So, that was his name—Arthur.

Stepping out from behind Dutch, you made yourself visible to the Van der Linde gang, especially the man at the center of it all.

He was tall, built like a seasoned gunslinger, with the brim of his hat pulled low, hiding much of his face. But from your shorter vantage point, you could see beneath the brim—strands of sandy brown hair fell just above his eyes. You squinted, trying to get a clearer look at the man responsible for the comment.

"My, my," Arthur drawled, his voice low. "What do we have here, then?"

You stared Arthur down, unfazed by his comment. “What you have here,” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “is someone who doesn't take kindly to men who don’t watch their tongues.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Bold. I like that.” He crossed his arms, eyeing you with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “But talk’s cheap out here, darlin’. You gonna back it up?”

You took a step closer, not backing down. “Guess you’ll find out soon enough, cowboy.”

Before things could escalate further, Dutch stepped in between the two of you, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “Now, now, let’s all calm down, shall we?” He chuckled as though this kind of exchange was nothing new. “Arthur, meet our new friend here. She’s more than capable, I assure you. She’s got quite the reputation—thief for hire, and from what I’ve heard, she’s damn good at it.”

Arthur’s gaze flickered to Dutch, then back to you. His smile faded, replaced by a skeptical scowl. “A thief, huh?” He tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. “And you’re just gonna bring her into camp, just like that? You don’t think maybe we oughta vet her a little first? Or better yet, see if she’s worth her salt?”

Dutch sighed, clearly accustomed to Arthur’s protective nature. “Arthur, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I wouldn’t bring someone into our fold if I didn’t believe in their abilities. You, of all people, should trust me on that.”

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head. “It ain’t about trust, Dutch. It’s about common sense. You’re always bringing in strays, but how do we know she’s as good as you say? How do we know she ain’t just gonna take what she wants and bolt?”

You folded your arms, feeling the heat of Arthur’s scrutiny, but before Dutch could respond, you cut in.

“If I wanted to bolt, I wouldn’t be standing here listening to you question me like some washed-up lawman,” you said flatly. “And as for being good at what I do… Why don’t you give me a chance to prove it?”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable for a moment. The tension was thick between the two of you, the unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

Dutch clapped his hands together, cutting through the silence. “See? That’s the spirit! Let’s not get too hung up on doubts and suspicions. Besides, Arthur, you know better than anyone—we all had to start somewhere.”

Arthur shook his head, still unconvinced, but his tone softened slightly. “Fine. But if she messes up, Dutch, it’s on you.”

Dutch grinned. “I’ll take full responsibility. You’ll see, Arthur—she’s gonna fit right in.”

Arthur gave you one last look, his blue eyes hard, but he stepped back, leaving the matter for now. “We’ll see,” he muttered, turning his back to head deeper into the camp.

As he walked away, Dutch leaned in close, speaking just low enough for you to hear. “Don’t worry about Arthur. He’s always cautious with new faces, but once you prove yourself, he’ll have your back. Just give it time.”

You nodded, though your eyes remained fixed on Arthur’s retreating form. “I’ll prove myself, alright. To everyone.”

Dutch patted you on the back, his voice light once again. “That’s the spirit. Now, let’s get you settled in.”

Your shoulders relax slightly when Dutch introduces you to another, kinder member of the camp—Mary-Beth. With a warm smile, she takes it upon herself to show you around. As she guides you through the camp, she explains the delicate intricacies and rich history the Van der Linde gang has accumulated over time. Her warmth is disarming, and though you find her friendliness endearing, your guard remains firmly in place.

As the day gives way to night, the camp grows lively. The smell of roasting meat fills the air, and the sound of laughter and clinking bottles echoes around the fire. Everyone seems to be enjoying the night, drinks in hand and plates full. You sit beside Dutch, notebook in hand, writing down the events of the day—your observations, the faces you’ve encountered, and your thoughts on the gang’s dynamics.

Dutch glances over your shoulder, a grin tugging at his lips. “Writing a novel already?” he teases.

You smirk but keep writing. “Just taking notes, is all.”

With a chuckle, Dutch pats your shoulder. “Well, don’t let me interrupt your musings. I’m gonna get myself another drink.” He stands, leaving his spot beside you empty for just a moment.

Before you can settle back into your thoughts, Arthur takes Dutch’s place without so much as a word. You immediately tense, looking up from your journal in annoyance.

“I didn’t invite you to sit,” you snap.

Arthur leans back, crossing his arms, clearly unbothered by your protest. “I’m just doin’ my due diligence,” he says with a casual shrug. “Lead enforcer and all that. Gotta make sure you ain’t some rat lookin’ to get us all killed.”

You narrow your eyes at him, anger bubbling up. “A rat? You don’t know a thing about me.”

“I know enough,” Arthur retorts, his gaze hard. “You waltz in here, Dutch vouches for ya, but me? I don’t trust anyone that quick. Seen too many faces come and go. Some good, some… not so much.”

You bite your tongue, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I don’t have anything to prove to you, Arthur.”

His stare lingers on you, unflinching. “Maybe not. But until I see otherwise, I’ll keep an eye on you.”

The tension between you is palpable, and despite the fire’s warmth, you feel a chill settle in your bones. This is why you hated dealing with people. No matter what you did, someone was always suspicious, always trying to dig into things that weren’t their business. You snap your journal shut, your patience worn thin.

“I’m done here,” you mutter, standing abruptly. “I didn’t come here for this.”

You walk away from the campfire, the weight of Arthur’s gaze following you as you disappear into the shadows. As you distance yourself from the group, you hear a voice call out.

“Arthur, you really can be an asshole sometimes, you know that?”

It’s Hosea, who had been watching the exchange from a distance. His tone is firm, but there’s an edge of disappointment in it. Arthur grumbles in response, shifting uncomfortably.

“Just doin’ my job, Hosea,” Arthur mutters defensively, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—regret, maybe.

Hosea shakes his head. “Yeah, well, you could stand to be a little more welcoming.”

As Hosea walks away, Arthur notices something on the ground beside him—your journal. You must have left it behind in your rush to escape the conversation. He picks it up, flipping it over in his hands, his expression softening for a brief moment. He exhales a long breath while he debates with himself, glancing in the direction you disappeared, wondering if he should bring it to you.

Storming away from the campfire, you mutter under your breath. "Should've known better than to get mixed up in this." The tension Arthur brought upon you still burns in your chest. Now, away from the glimmer of the camp you question why you even agreed to Dutch's offer.

Quickly the weight of reality sets in. The promise of money looms heavy, more than you've ever made in one place. Enough to change your life, if things go smoothly. And then there's the camp —more than just a place to lay your head. It has food, shelter, warmth, and plenty of drink, luxuries you haven’t had in a long while. The thought alone makes your stomach growl, reminding you of the times you’ve gone hungry for days on end. A little discomfort with people like Arthur might just be the price you have to pay to survive this.

With a resigned sigh, you make your way toward your tent, situated near the lake, away from the central campfire. The sounds of laughter and idle chatter slowly fade, replaced by the gentle lapping of the water and the rustling of the trees in the night breeze. The solitude brings you a moment of peace.

Inside the privacy of your tent, you begin to undress. Shedding your coat, shirt, and pants, you remain in your undergarments, your body finally relaxing after a long day. You sit down on the edge of your bedroll, running a hand through your hair, letting yourself unwind. The faint sounds of the camp are distant now, just a quiet hum in the background. For the first time all day, you feel like you can breathe.

You sink deeper into the quiet, trying to escape the frustration that still simmers after your run-in with Arthur. His suspicion and brash attitude had only amplified the uncertainty you already felt about your place here. But in this moment, alone in the privacy of your tent, you allow yourself a rare moment of vulnerability.

The day’s exhaustion has left your body aching, and as you lie back on the bedroll in nothing but your undergarments, your mind drifts, seeking comfort in the solitude. The warmth of the lamp glows around you, its light illuminating the canvas tent, casting your shadow against the fabric walls.

Meanwhile, outside Arthur approaches the tent with your journal firmly in his grasp. His steps are quiet, almost hesitant has he nears. From the outside, the soft light from your oil lamp betrays the outline of your figure through the thin material of the tent. He pauses, eyes narrowing as he makes out your shape, it stops him in his tracks.

"What in the hell is she up to?"

As the glow from the lantern outlines your curves, you move with an intensity that betrays the calm facade you usually project. Your guard is down, and in this moment of vulnerability, your form is unmistakable. Your hands roam freely over your body, pressing, squeezing, tugging at the fabric of your undergarments. Even in solitude, you tease yourself, building anticipation for the release that awaits.

Your fingers reach up to hold your breasts, pinching the hardened buds as a loud moan escapes your lips and echoes through the tent. Arthur watches silently from outside, his breath catching as he realizes what's happening. His initial intention of returning the journal completely fades away as he becomes transfixed by the intimacy of the scene unfolding before him. He feels like an intruder but can't bring himself to look away.

Lost in pleasure, you lie back and let your hand trail down to your center, seeking refuge in the coarse hair. Gripping tightly, you insert a single digit into your core and feel a rush of wetness surround it as you sink deeper and deeper. Your breathing quickens and unbeknownst to you, the quiet rhythm of your movements is not confined to the tent. You whimper for more, "ple-please, give it to me. i want more," caving release from the stress that has consumed you since arriving here.

Watching from afar, Arthur feels his primal instincts kick in but fights them off with all his might. His sense of honor wavers as he struggles against his own desires. The tightness of his jeans and gun belt only add to his physical discomfort as he closes his eyes tightly, trying to resist temptation.

Meanwhile, inside the tent, you continue to lose yourself in ecstasy, completely oblivious to anything else in the world. Your moans grow louder and more desperate as your fingers quicken their pace inside of you. The sounds of squelching flesh mixed with your cries fill the night air as you beg for more.

Arthur finally gives in to his conscience and with one last look at the tent, he pulls away and retreats into the darkness. "The hell you doing, you pervert?" he curses himself as he walks away, leaving you to your privacy and pleasure. The intense moment has passed, but the memory lingers in Arthur's mind, igniting a curiosity about what else lies behind that sharp tongue of yours.

A man still had his urges.

Your journal finds its temporary home in Arthur's pocket. The heat of the moment lingers in his chest, an ache he can’t quite shake. His body tenses, and the desire to escape the situation grows stronger with every step. He moves quickly through the camp, intent on retreating to his own quarters and pushing away the thoughts still buzzing in his mind.

But just as he rounds a corner, he spots Dutch leaning against a post, nursing a drink and chatting with one of the gang members. Dutch’s keen eyes lock onto Arthur almost immediately, and before Arthur can disappear, Dutch calls out.

“Arthur!” Dutch’s voice cuts through the campfire chatter. “Where’d our new friend wander off to?”

Arthur stiffens, his eyes darting briefly before he forces himself to face Dutch. “She, uh… she’s at her tent,” Arthur mutters, his tone gruff as he shifts his weight awkwardly. Hands firmly grasp his gun belt and a satchel that once sat on the side of his hip is awkwardly placed at the center of his core, disguising what throbbed underneath.

Dutch raises an eyebrow, clearly sensing something off. “You sure about that? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or… something else.” There’s a smirk tugging at the corner of Dutch’s mouth, amused by Arthur’s discomfort.

Arthur avoids eye contact, the urge he’s trying to suppress making it difficult to keep his composure. “Ain’t nothin’. Just tired, Dutch. Been a long day.”

Dutch takes a swig of his drink, watching Arthur closely, clearly enjoying the rare sight of Arthur flustered. “Right, right. Well, if you see her, let her know she’s always welcome to sit by the fire.”

Arthur grunts, eager to end the conversation. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Dutch takes another sip and, with a knowing chuckle, waves him off. “Get some rest, Arthur. You look like you need it.”

Without another word, Arthur quickly shoos Dutch away with a curt nod and makes a beeline for his tent. The moment Dutch turns his attention back to the campfire, Arthur lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his footsteps quickening.

Finally reaching the safety of his own tent, a shaky hand, Arthur pushes through the canvas flap. He collapse onto his cot with heavy breaths. Images rush through his mind like a raging river - your body outlined in flickering light, the softness of your movements, and the burning desire that he can't seem to shake.

He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling with shallow breaths as he replays the memory over and over again. His fists clench at his sides, frustration and longing coursing through him. It's been too long since anything has affected him this deeply.

As someone no stranger to temptation, Arthur knows the pull of the flesh all too well. But this moment with you felt different - more intimate, more real. The vulnerability he saw in you makes it impossible for him to simply brush off the encounter.

Running a hand through his hair in frustration, he tries to push the thoughts away, but they cling to him like thorns. The tension in his body only grows, refusing to let go even in the quiet of the night.

"Damn it," he mutters under his breath, rolling onto his side in an attempt to distract himself. But it's no use - your silhouette, bathed in lamplight, is burned into his mind.

Sitting up abruptly, Arthur grips the ends of his cot tightly as he stares at the ground beneath him. He lets out a frustrated sigh and runs a hand over his face, trying to rub away the persistent thoughts. But they only intensify in the darkness of his tent, driving him to take action.

Without hesitation, he untucks his flannel and removes his gunbelt before freeing himself from his trousers. His arousal is already evident as his length throbs against his palm. Unlike you, who sought relaxation in these moments alone, Arthur seeks indulgence.

Spitting into his palm for lubrication, he grips his cock tightly and sinks his weight onto the cot, groaning at the sensation. His ankles are freed from his trousers as he spreads his legs wider, giving himself more room to move. With each stroke of his hand, he can feel the tension slowly dissipating, replaced by a raw need for pleasure.

His hand moves with urgency and desperation, his thumb frequently visits the tip of his cock gathering the liquid before slipping it down his length. The sounds of your pleasure entertain his memory, your gentle pleas for pleasure make him whimper, "take it, woman. t-take it all." He feels like a fool but he can't suppress the praises he's eager to provide, "like a g-good girl."

His moans were deep and gravelly, resonating with the same desperate desire that you had been yearning for. As he released his essence into his palm, the sticky substance leaked between his fingers. He caught his breath with his eyes tightly shut, murmuring a curse under his breath, "damn woman." Somehow, this was all your fault.

Arthur reached for a handkerchief to clean himself off, wiping away the evidence of his passion. He adjusted himself before settling onto his cot with a sense of contentment, ready to spend the evening in peaceful slumber. The quiet rustle of the sheets echoed through the room as he settled in, still feeling the lingering effects of your intense encounter.

NEXT CHAPTER.

[idesofrevolution]

A Night at the Kings Theatre

The Kings Theatre had been long abandoned by the city for over half a century, haunted by the memory of that fateful night in 1978. No one knows exactly what happened, but from tragedy arose legend. 143 people entered the auditorium that April night, prepared to see a terrifying new film just recently brought to America out of West Germany. "Der Kuss der Lust" was some sort of return to the German Expressionist Horror of the 1920's, a film scarcely heard of outside art houses in Berlin, and the hapless crowd came in droves. By the end of the showing, the police had arrived, the majority of patrons leaving the theatre in handcuffs or straightjackets. The city never released any information on the event, opting instead to board up the grand building and never speak of the subject again. That is, until 2024.

The group stared up at the Grandiose Marquee, excited for the long awaited return of their neighborhood movie palace. The four of them giddy with anticipation, they each had their tickets in hand: all found mysteriously in their post boxes that morning. Teddy stood with his mouth agape in awe at the sheer beauty of the facade, while Rod, Sabrina, and Pete gossiped amongst themselves.

"Yeah, it was literally in my mailbox this morning." Sabrina's characteristic monotone delivery making the two boys snicker.

"Girl I can tell you're sooo excited." Rod rolling his eyes at his roommate, well acquainted with her stoic persona. Pete stood looking down at his phone, trying to browse the theatre website to see what film they were about to be subjected to.

"All it says on here is 'Grand Opening Event.' It doesn't say what movie it is. OH! I bet it's that new one we've been seeing trailers all over the place about! The one with Ryan Gosling and Ross Lynch necking while Jennifer Coolidge just sits there!" Pete's boisterous and brash demeanor yet again shining through. A lack of volume control was a typical symptom of his theatre gay archetype, but nothing his friends were unprepared for.

"Shhhh. Look, they're letting people in!" Teddy hushed his little group, pointing to the tall gentleman at the door, now checking ticket stubs as the patrons slowly trickled inside. Teddy was merely along for the ride, roped into the outing by Rod, who was continuously concerned with his homebody lifestyle. "So we don't know what we're watching tonight, huh?" The three others shrugged.

"Does it really matter? It's something to do, Teddy..." Sabrina scoffing under her breath as they slowly inched toward the front doors. Teddy looked at the ticket man up ahead, his eyes sunken in and hunching over the audience members like Frankenstein's Monster.

"I bet he's in character for the movie! I've heard about this in class. They used to have all the staff act all spooky and improv with the crowd to get them in the mood for the movie! I bet it's a horror movie then!" Pete's enthusiasm was not exactly reciprocated as the boys shrugged and Sabrina rolled her eyes. Teddy felt a twinge of foreboding as they approached the towering man, each handing him their tickets. He stared at the group for a moment, the four tickets just hanging loosely from his grey fingers.

"Uh, are we good to go?" Rod stared at the man, whose head slowly turned down to meet his gaze before a demented grin crawled across his decrepit face. He bowed dramatically, waving his arm to usher them into the building, not a single utterance leaving his blue lips.

"Wow, impressive acting. Let's go, boys." Sabrina pushed the three through the open brass doors, Teddy's gaze having a hard time breaking with the strange man. His grin seemed to melt away almost instantly, returning to stonefaced indifference as he attended to the group behind.

"What the fuck was that?" Teddy turned to his group, Rod the only one taking the time to even acknowledge his query.

"Listen, they're just gettin' you in the mood! Like Pete was saying! Lighten up, man. I promise we'll take you home right after this, and you don't have to come out until next week. And we're doin' karaoke baby!" Rod nudged Teddy, whose response was a coy smile as he stared at his feet. He didn't want to be there, but for the sake of his friends he was making an effort.

The lobby was bright and opulent, the Beaux-Arts architecture perfectly coordinating with the beautiful exterior. Heavy red velvet drapes hung between the marble columns, a grand staircase likely bringing folks to the mezzanine, and a modest but well stocked concessions stand stood in the middle of the room. Historic film posters hung prominently against the walls: Casablanca, Dracula, Gone with the Wind, Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte, Rebel Without A Cause, Rebecca... all with bold 'COMING SOON' stickers plastered against the glass displays.

"I guess they're doing a whole retro movies vibe! Ooh! I wanna come back to see James Dean on the Silver Screen!" Pete jumped excitedly at the prospect, running over to the poster to take a picture as Sabrina walked to concessions to get popcorn. Rod and Teddy stood there, just admiring the grandeur of the space before the chandeliers began to flicker rather ominously.

"I think that means we need to find our seats." Teddy turned to look at Rod, who was squinting at the tickets to see what seat they'd all been assigned.

"We're in something called MEZ? What the fuck does that mean?" Teddy snatched the ticket, pointing to the top of the stairs in response.

"It means mezzanine, we're upstairs." Teddy motioned to Pete to rejoin them just as Sabrina returned with a gigantic barrel of buttery popcorn, munching away. The group ascended the stone stairs, avoiding brushing against the eager spectators as they rushed to their seats.

The auditorium was equally as grand. A massive brass chandelier hung prominently above the house, boxes lining the sides of the walls above row after row of velvet seats. The group made their way to their rows: Rod and Sabrina in row 3, Pete and Teddy in row 2 immediately in front. They took their seats as the vintage concessions ad played on the massive screen. Teddy heard Rod and Sabrina bickering about roomie problems he cared nothing about, as Pete blathered on about the history of the anthropomorphic dancing popcorn box. The mood in the room was one of excitement, of anticipation, yet for Teddy... it was off. The air felt stale and stagnant, the uncanniness of the movie palace long after it's prime seemed to hang differently in his mind. It felt like a time capsule, a liminal space where time had just frozen still, waiting to swallow it's naive visitors. Perhaps it was just the social anxiety, as Rod would likely dismiss it as. Yet, for whatever reason, Teddy sat on edge and alert. The lights began to dim, and a hush fell over the auditorium as previews began to roll for the films advertised in the lobby.

"Ooooooh! Bela Lugosi was so hot. Like seriously." Pete chimed with his typically chipper demeanor, stealthily stealing a handful of Sabrina's popcorn from behind him as they whispered deep in their argument. "Like can you even blame her for falling for him? I mean come on." Teddy just nodded along, peering around him at the crowd of exceedingly normal people watching the old trailer with glee.

The trailers ended with the screams of Bette Davis and Olivia de Havilland; Hush, Hush Sweet Charotte ending it's preview as the room was flooded in blackness. Teddy swore he could faintly hear whispers emanating from all around him in the dark cavern, before the room was once again illuminated as the black and white title card brightly shone on the canvas screen. The words were in a strange font, clearly not in English.

"Durr kusss durr loost... Ahh shit is this some kind of foreign film?" Sabrina sighed and reclined back into her chair, taking solace in the handfuls of popcorn she'd been shoveling into her mouth. Teddy recognized none of the actors names as they quickly flashed before his eyes, nor could he understand any of the words in the opening credits. He didn't speak German, but he couldn't wait to rub the hiccup in Rod's face: yet another social outing turning out completely unintended. Thankfully, as the camera opened onto some old Baroque village, as dialogue began, he was relieved to see English subtitles scurrying at the bottom of the screen.

He struggled to keep up with the narrative, as the translation may have been rather poor to begin with, instead opting to focus on the increasingly strange sets these actors were traversing. From what he could tell, there was a nobleman of some sort who found a village woman he'd fallen in love with. The book was promising powers of love beyond human comprehension, and in his hubris, the nobleman tries to cast a spell of lust on the beautiful young woman.

"I mean look at the set design, it's giving Nosferatu. NO! Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.... Oooh it's so cool!" Rod nudged Pete with his shoe, shushing him as neighboring patrons shoot dirty looks in their direction. Teddy became completely enveloped in the bizarre imagery rather quickly. The film was almost dreamlike in quality, walls seemed to jut out in different directions, the lighting was dim at best and only illuminating essential props or entrances and exits for characters. The sounds of the auditorium slowly faded away into the periphery, and all that could be perceived was the muffled voices of the actors.

Time was not a consistent factor in the film, it just meandered from scene to scene, with disconcerting Dutch angles increasing dread at every turn. What felt like one minute could easily have been twenty, but fortune momentarily smiled on the encapsulated young man. Teddy felt his stomach rumble, momentarily breaking him from his trancelike state to reach behind him into their popcorn bowl. He'd fully expected a wrist slap from Sabrina, but after three or four handfuls of popcorn, that moment never came. This moment of sheer confusion pulled him out of his tunnel vision, if only to reassure Sabrina that he'd pitch in for the popcorn. As he turned around, he was met with a sight he never could have ever imagined.

Sabrina's head was turned toward Rod, and for a moment, Teddy thought they were just whispering to eachother, continuing their asinine argument over who ate the pickle chips the night before. Though as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room around him, it became clearer just what it was they were doing. Her lips were planted firmly on Rod's, his left hand slowly sliding up her thigh. Teddy quickly swiveled his head back to the screen, eyes wide with shock. Rod was a flaming queer, just as he was and just as Pete was. Sure, Sabrina was straight, but he couldn't imagine her boyfriend being thrilled at the sight of Rod necking her in a movie theatre.

"Dude! Look at their facial expressions! You don't even need subtitles, you just need to see their faces!" Pete's voice hummed distantly, being completely ignored by all around him, doing little to aid Teddy's growing discomfort. The sounds of wet, sloppy kissing began to ring out from behind him, their breaths shallow and low. Teddy's eyes darted around him, the faded outlines of the other patrons not getting any clearer, nothing but the film there to distract him. Especially as the sounds of comingling tongues abruptly came to an end, only to quickly be replaced by another more terrifying sound.

*Slurp* *Slurp* *Slurp* *Slurp* "Ahhhh yeah, baby..." It was unmistakable. That was Rod... With each stifled moan, every snarling growl and wet slurp, he could hear his friend's voice growing lower and lower. His growls becoming louder... rougher... more animalistic. Teddy stared forward, beads of sweat starting to seep out of his forehead as he listened to the two most ill-matched people get it on directly behind him. He heard their pace quicken, Sabrina's slurps turning into gags as he heard more bizarre sounds arising from behind. Creaking... The sound of shifting leather, or maybe it was tearing fabric... Or the sound of an inflating balloon... Teddy felt his breath start to quiver, as he looked down between the armrests, seeing Rod's Chuck Taylors start to wriggle and writhe. His eyes widened, seeing the black canvas fabric start to flush white, growing larger and larger. He recognized the Nike symbol starting to protrude from the sides of the sneaker, and as Rod's voice growled into an enraptured release, the Converse were now a pair of large, beat up AirForce1's, covered vulgarities written in black Sharpie. Teddy whipped his head back to the screen, Sabrina giggling as he heard the sound of a waistband snapping back to place. It was silent for a moment, Teddy too nervous to look behind him, but desperately wanting to know what happened to his friends.

"Ahhhhhhh yeah, babe." There was a thud, Teddy peering down to his right and seeing the gigantic sneaker resting on his arm rest. Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned his head. There, leaning forward with his hands on his head was Rod- or at least, someone that once was Rod. The tall, skinny little gay boy he'd befriended had been replaced with a gigantic, tattooed man. His hair cropped short, his muscles bulging, his shirt sitting on his thigh below his exposed torso now adorned with thick silver chains.

"Huhu, my bad, bro. When duty calls, am I right?" Rod grabbed onto his monstrous bulge, hiding behind the cum stained fabric of his white shorts. Teddy felt the blood rush from his head at the very sight of it. He watched as Sabrina, now equally scantily clad with tattoos, jet black hair, and devious grin mischievously slithered her hand beneath his waistband, grabbing ahold of his thick cock and slowly pumping. Rod winked at Teddy, turning again to Sabrina and kissing her once again.

Teddy whipped his head back to the screen, mortified and terrified in equal measure. He looked around him yet again, only seeing once again the dim outlines of the other patrons completely enveloped in the film before them. He turned behind him, doing his best to ignore the slimy sound of Rod's handjob to see the doors had staff members blocking each exit.

"Fuuuuuuck, bro. This shit is tight. Lemme tell you, man. I need this shit on Netflix." Teddy ignored Pete's typical unwarranted commentary, peering down over the house to see if the patrons below were also... different. Through the dark haze of the auditorium, he received his answer. The vast majority of the audience was completely enraptured with the film, not so much as flinching as they watched the nightmarish visions on screen. However, he'd started to notice the dim outlines of a couple people leaning in toward eachother. He couldn't pry his eyes away, so Teddy could only watch as he saw the patrons start to grope, kiss, and go down on eachother. A couple up front necking in the first row, two guys sliding their hands into eachother's pants in box 5, a group of what he'd assumed were bachelorettes just sliding their hands over eachother's breasts.

"Pete... Pete, we gotta get the fuck out of here." Teddy whispered to his friend, not taking his eyes off of the filth that was unraveling around them. Three seats over, one man was now bent over the railing of the balcony, three other men taking turns railing him right there in public to no outcry whatsoever. Teddy whipped his head toward Pete, still intently watching the film. "Pete! Pete, let's go!" He grabbed onto his wrist, feeling a strange rubbery texture tightly wrapped around it. He looked down, watching in terror as his friend's pristine watch slowly warped beneath his hands. Tightening until all that was left were three rubber bracelets in bright vivid colors.

Teddy's gaze slowly rose from his friend's hand as his fingernails slowly turned black. The rotund theatre gay was rapidly losing mass. His tight sweatervest growing looser and looser before his eyes. Fat seemed to shrink into nothingness as the sleeves of his shirt began to slowly rise up the length of his arms.

"Dude... I feel kinda funky, bro." The typical chipper demeanor was slowly vanishing, his eager eyes began to droop, as his short brown hair started to grow. The dark brown hairs quickly were flushed with a wash of bright blonde as it snaked out of his scalp down to the nape of his neck in sweaty, messy curls. His jawline was sharpening, his lips getting plump and thick.

"Pete... PETE!" Teddy screamed at the top of his lungs, not a single patron even flinching at the toil in his voice. "HELP! SOMETHING IS WRONG! SOMETHING IS VERY VERY WRONG!" Teddy shot up out of his seat, his ankle painfully hitting something hard. He peered down to see a heavily used skateboard resting under his friend's feet, absentmindedly rolling side to side as his loafers warped quickly into large, well worn white Vans. Teddy clamped his hand over his mouth as he followed the shifting clothes, up the khakis turning tight and ripped against lean thighs, up to the growing bulge and wet patch bulging out of his groin, up to the studded belt tightly wrapped around his lean waist.

"Heheh..." Pete's voice was growing duller, more coarse as the scent of sweat and cannabis began to waft off him. His sweatervest and shirt shrinking into a sweat stained white tee shirt, and as Teddy's gaze finally fell on Pete's face... he knew he was gone.

"Broooo this shit is sick... Oooh, man. I got a j in my pocket, man. I'll let you hit it if you let me..." Pete's fingers inched toward his belt buckle, slipping under the fabric of his jeans. "C'mon bro. Don't let Rod be the only one gettin' some dick attention tonight." He winked through the colored sunglasses hiding the red, stoned eyes behind.

"I..." Teddy nervously stood there as Pete unbuckled his pants, his twinky, sweaty hand sliding down into his underwear and wrapping around his slowly growing cock.

"Yeah, bro... Come let Petey take care of this." Teddy was lost in a moment of bliss as Pete slowly and tenderly stroked his cock in his pants, igniting the joint between his lips as he pumped.

"Whuh.... Wait... I uh... I need to go to the bathroom. Really bad. I'll be back, just give me a minute..." Pete smirked, letting his hand retract from Teddy's groin.

"Well, don't be too long, bro. My throat is waitin' for ya. Heheh." He stuck out his long tongue with a vulgar whip. Teddy wasted no time bolting toward the door, realizing only as he was chest to chest with the decrepit usher that the restrooms were merely to his right and left. The creepy man flashed the same unhinged smile, not budging an inch. Teddy burst into the men's room, leaning against the ceramic pedestal sink and peering into the mirror. He flipped the faucet, water flowing from the tap as he splashed it against his face. Then, he heard it. The creaking of leather. He looked down at his feet in horror as the New Balance sneakers he sported started to quiver and undulate.

"No... Noo... NOOO." He vigorously splashed his face with the cold water, rubbing his face like a maniac. It was only then that he started to feel the roughness around his upper lip and jaw. He couldn't bring himself to look into the mirror, as he felt hair sprout below his nose and stubble poking around his sharpening jawline. He could only peer down as he slowly began to accept his fate. The sneakers quickly stretched wide and big, a scuffed black leather replacing the grey suede as they shifted into a pair of heavy black harness boots.

His breath grew shallow and rapid, watching his sweatpants suction in tight around his inflating calves and thighs, turning slick and black. The comfortable grey Champion sweats were nearly skintight now, as if painted on atop his lengthening legs. The bottoms slipped into his boots and fastened beneath the damp fabric of his black socks, and the shiny black leather pants began to creak as his own bulge started to grow round and distended. Teddy gasped for air as he felt his shaft stretch out, a foreskin creeping over the head of his weeping cockhead, seeping into the sweat and cum inundated jockstrap now around his waist and thick ass.

"Ohhh... fuuuuuuuck." His fingernails turned black as tattoos began to sprawl from his knuckles up his swelling arms. The sweatshirt he wore felt tighter and tighter as his shoulders broadened and his torso stretched upward, taking on a lighter tone as little tears started to appear around the collar and along the seams. "Unnnnnnnnff" His voice started to dip lower and lower as the heavy sweatshirt's sleeves retracted in toward his shoulders. He felt himself sweating, wiping the sweat from his lowering brow and brushing the now frosted blonde tips of his mullet to the side. He looked at his hands, undeniably his own, yet completely unfamiliar; watching them as they slowly slipped lower toward his throbbing cock. He pulled up his weathered, well loved white tank top, the intricate ink across his rippled abs begging him to go lower and lower, his head throwing itself back as his fingers slipped into his creaking leather pants.

"Brooooooo you in here? What, didja fall in?" As he heard Petey's stoned ass voice echo off the tiled walls, he turned his head as he groped his slimy cock in his pouch. His three friends, vaguely familiar now, all sauntered in looking at him with knowing smirks. "Awww, Theo. I told ya not to get started without me."

Theo leaned on the sink, groping himself with a devilish smirk, beckoning his favorite throat goat to come gobble up his musky rod. Petey took a hit off the joint, handing it to Sabrina before getting on his knees before their bisexual bad boy. He opened his maw, Theo knowing right away what to do as he spit in Petey's eager mouth, and pulled out his throbbing dick. As the skater expertly wrapped his lips around his manhood, Theo turned to Rod and Sabrina, winking. Rod grinned.

"Yeah, boy. Gimme summa that, no homo though, bro." The 6'5 basketball stud sauntered over to his bro, planting a wet kiss onto Theo's supple, cigarette stained lips. As Sabrina took Rod's monstrous cock into her mouth, the four of them fucked in the bathroom surrounded by the stench of sex. Swapping partners at the drop of a hat, sucking face and dick with no hesitation, worshipping Theo & Rod's big smelly feet or railing Petey's tight little hole while Sabrina ate out Theo's sweaty rear. By the time the Usher came in to tell them the film was over, buckets of cum were splattered over the walls, floor, ceiling, and friends.

"Heh, c'mon guys. We can continue this back at my place." Theo wrangled his little posse of fuck buddies out of the bathroom, past the outrageous orgy slapping about in the auditorium. The four walked out of the Kings Theatre, stinking of cum and sweat in the night air, knowing fully well they'd be returning soon enough.

[wrr000]

Van Der Linde gang when you randomly kiss them - short headcanons

Featuring: Arthur, Javier, Charles (can do a part two and add whoever y'all want, just let me know)

Summary: pure fluff, kissing on the cheek (just to clarify)

Warnings: none, just really short and stupid

»»————-　♡　————-««

--Arthur

He's usually on high alert, but in camp he wants to chill and rest so it's easier to surprise him

When you sneak up on Arthur to kiss him on the cheek you nearly gave him a heart attack

Slightly blush appeared on his face

Poor baby is flustered and doesn't know what to do. Should he kiss you back or what?

"Uh- It's you- You sure suprised me baby"

Nervously rubbing back of his neck and avoiding eye contact before awkwardly kissing you back

It may not seem like it, but little cowboy was exploding from happiness on the inside

Arthur is just a pure mess, but a big sweetheart!

He sure loves you and appreciate everything you do (for him or to him)

If you want to do this again--better warn him or else he will die from fluster D:

--Javier

He did not expect that, I said what I said

Javier may be always vigilant, but this one time you actually managed to surprise him

He shivered slightly, but after a moment he realized it was you

"Oh~ What did I do to earn this, Mi amore? You already missed me?"

Immediately pulling you closer to him, wrapping his hands around your waist and kissing you back

But like, a thousad kisses all around your face

Now he doesn't want to let you go tightening his grip

What did you even expect from someone as romantic and passionate as him

Javier loves everything you do, but especially when you initiate sweet moments yourself

(and when you are trying get his attention, he knows that you're loyal)

Just keeping doing that more often! It makes him very happy and loved

--Charles

He knows that you're coming from behind so there was no way you could suprise him

Charles spent too much time on hunting and honestly? He found it very cute when you thought you were sneaky

For your peace of mind, he pretended to be surprised

"Oh, it's you my dear, what a nice suprise"

Bright smile crawled on his face

After a brief moment he placed a hand on your waist and returned a kiss

It felt good to know that you're thinking about him and came up with this idea

Such small gestures meant a lot to him

In return he would give you something small, but from the heart

Not like he needs to proof you that he loves you, it's nothing like that

Charles is a gentleman and he wants to surprise you as well. He may not have the way with words or action, but quality time or precious gifts? Yup yup!

Also--he's curious if you will able to sneak up on him next time

Won't admit it, but he wants you to do it more often!

[history-of-fashion]

second half of 17th century Attr. to Adam Frans van der Meulen - Portrait of a gentleman on horseback

(Private collection via Christie’s)

[sphireath-wisp]

#To Live, Not Survive.

Sypnosis: I think finding reasons to live in others is one of the most intimate and beautiful things ever. Like, "yes, I want to live one more day, to wake up in the morning and drag my tired feet across roads to see you - because what would I do without you?" So, I wanted to write that out!

Warnings: Not Proofread, some quotes I made myself (so they might be a little cringy?), messy interchanging grammar, all characters in Sae's section are aged up including Sae himself, cursing, Sae and reader are the biggest situationship ever, Sae's section gets lowkey suggestive at the end(?)

Note: Finding a reason to live in others does not mean fully using others and relying on them as your only reason to live - that is unhealthy and there should be a balance of self-sufficiency and independence in everyone.

Featuring: Michael Kaiser, Rin Itoshi, Sae Itoshi, Reo Mikage x GN! Reader

Michael Kaiser

"It's not every day I let someone waltz into my life and hang around me, so be honored. I don't let just anyone poke their nose into my business, so feel special. You pried your way into my heart and I chose you because I like you, so I'm gonna make you feel special and you have no say in it." - Sphireath-wisp

"You're home early." You throw off your shoes before he quickly pulls you into a tight hug. Kaiser lets you out of his embrace with a low chuckle, tucking your hair behind your ear as you continue, "I was supposed to make dinner tonight. If I had known you'd reach home early, I would've started preparing already."

You frown. "You might have to wait a little longer for dinner tonight then. Why didn't you tell me anyway?"

"It's fine," Kaiser brushes it off with a mischievous grin - you can already tell he has something planned. His hands clasp yours in his, a gentle tug towards the dining table without much explanation. You follow him in the dim lighting, eyes sparkling at the candlelit dinner on the table. The scented candles fill the room with the sweet smell of vanilla and cast a warm glow on the plates of food, all of which range from your home country's traditional dishes to your own personal favorites - there's even German food.

Pleasantly surprised, you question, "Woah, what's the special occasion?"

"Nothing much. Just felt like celebrating us, Meine Liebe." He hums, voice smooth as honey. He pulls out your chair, gesturing for you to sit first. The ends of your lips curve up - he was always such a gentleman with you. Getting comfortable in your seat, your eyes travel to the food again, euphoria swirling in you when you're reminded that he did this for you and only you.

By the time you look up, he's seated across from you. "This is amazing, babe." You comment and pull your plate closer to you. Kaiser begins dinner with you, placing a cut of schnitzel on your plate first before serving himself. "Go ahead, start eating," Kaiser grins from ear to ear, eagerly anticipating a favorable reaction from you.

"...Hey, it's pretty good! I didn't know you could cook."

"Germans tie a lot of importance to family and the community. I learned a few recipes from my family when I was younger." He took a bite out of his food.

"So this is why you had that shit-eating grin when I came home? Because you wanted to surprise me?" You gaze at him, the corner of your eyes crinkling when you can't help but smile. A little playful banter always made dinner fun. "I wonder which 'top 10 things to do for someone special' website you searched for."

Kaiser gasps, nudging you from under the table and earning an amused laugh from you. The latter rolled his eyes. "You know," Kaiser starts, "you're more than just someone special, der Liebling." Pink is dusted on your cheeks when you hear him speak. "Really? Is that so?"

"Do you not believe you're more than just special to me?" He scoffs. "I don't let just anyone become my significant other, so be honored." Kaiser points his fork at you. "I did all of this because you're special to me, so feel special, Meine Liebe."

And he wasn't saying this just to be romantic. No, he set up this dinner with you in mind. He researched and followed recipes to a tee because he wanted you to like them. He bought candles and put his whole heart and soul into them so you would feel special - because you are.

You're really something, you know that?

He didn't mind pampering you and spoiling you to no end. He's found purpose in reminding you that this relationship is worth investing into, worth all of the time and fights, worth all of the misunderstandings. He's found joy in helping you, in letting you rely on him when you need assistance in anything honestly. Maybe he was just power-hungry. Having you lean on him meant that he was in control, but Kaiser is genuinely fond of you trusting him enough to be vulnerable around him. Plus, it's cute and he can tease you all night about it.

"I do feel special." You say with hearts in your eyes, "But still, why the grand gesture?"

Kaiser leans in, warm gaze meeting yours. "I chose to do this because I love you and I'm gonna make you feel treasured - no matter what." You pause, blush creeping up your cheeks.

"You're so cheesy."

"You love that about me, don't you?"

Rin Itoshi

"I haven't shown you the extent of my passion. I need you to see me win because that's what I promised you - a future where you feel safe with me, where I can experience both your sorrows and joy, a future where I can walk next to you and recite to the world how lucky I am to have you. Please, let me prove this to you." - Sphireath-wisp

"You know Rin," You began suddenly, staring blankly at him. " I would marry you if you asked me to." The striker almost drops his pen at your words, his heart almost stops in his chest but continues to drum against his ribs. He glances at you from across the table, resting his cheek on his hand and effectively covering the lower half of his face - just in case he was blushing.

"Hah? Don't declare something like that as a joke." or so he chides. You have to be joking. He's positive you're joking because that's the only way he can play this situation off without it etching into his memory and replaying it in his mind. It'll haunt him for who knows how long and his heart will explode. Be a little more merciful with him, won't you? You don't know how strong of an effect you actually have on him.

"I'm not!" The words the irrational, illogical part of him was elated to hear aloud. You only reaffirm yourself even more when he doubts you, a pout on your face. "I'm being serious, Rin. I thought about it and everything."

"For how long? Ever since you sat down and stared at me (something he pretended that he wasn't distracted by) doing my homework 5 minutes ago?" You watch his eyebrows furrow and gaze harden. "(Name)... don't go deciding who you'll marry so early on."

"I only needed 5 minutes," You proudly announce, legs swinging back and forth under the table. "Doesn't that tell you that I needed little time to consider because I was so sure you're the one I wanna marry, my future husband?" Rin's head swerves elsewhere and you lightly kick him in the shin, under the assumption that he was so dumbfounded by your reasoning that he refuses to even look in your direction.

And you were right - half-right. He was dumbfounded, bewildered, stunned to the point that his composure had been rudely thrown out of the window. The deep breath he took - which you presumed to be an exasperated sigh - didn't help calm the intense pounding in his chest, he could still hear it loud and clear in his ears. He scowled, a heat he was forced to get accustomed to pooling in the apple of his cheeks and taking a physical form as hues of deep red on the tip of his ears. He can't risk facing you in this state.

In normal circumstances, he would label you as an idiot like he usually does, though he never actually means harm. He'd sigh at you and give you this 'seriously?' stare that told you he isn't on the same boat as you, so it won't matter to him if you're sinking. Now, you're the one spouting out poetic lines and you know exactly what you're doing to him - he's positive. Terrible, really, you truly have no consideration for his poor heart.

"What exactly were you daydreaming of during those 5 minutes? What was so convincing that it made you want to marry me, huh?" Rin presses on further.

"I love you. You stood up for me and defended me so many times. You reminded me and constantly drilled into my head that I shouldn't settle for less." and... silence, an uncomfortable one at that.

"That's it?" Rin's face scrunches up as if he was expecting more than just that. "That's all it takes?" He was no good with words, so it came out more harsh than planned. "Come on, there has to be more than that."

You stopped taking the conversation lightheartedly with the sudden change. Your gut churns uncomfortably in you. Your smile fades. "...Am I forgetting something?" Was he expecting you to list out everything he did? Did he think you forgot?

"No, it's just-" Rin curses himself. Pressing his thumb and middle finger on the temple of his head, he rubs his temples in circles and hurriedly slaps words together that he hoped would get his message across. "You can't marry someone for just... that. I won't let you."

You fidget with your hands on the table and he notices your discomfort - he hates this feeling of guilt that stabs his gut, he had forgotten how easy it is for his mouth to run. Stacking his hand on yours, he envelops your hand with the warmth of his - you accept despite everything.

"I'm... not that good at communicating. I still need time." Rin admits something he knew he needed to face if he wanted to be worthy of becoming your husband. He won't allow himself to take up the title of your future husband just yet. "There are still things I want to do to prove I'll always be there for you."

He has always been fighting to prove himself. In soccer, it's to beat Sae. Now, it's embedded in his daily life - whether it's planning dates or learning about you and himself - to prove himself to you that he's worth it. He finds purpose in improving himself and his attitude outside of soccer - to finally convince himself and you that he deserves you. "Don't go calling me your future husband. I'll get complacent before I can show you how far I'll go for you."

Your tense shoulders drop. Lovestruck eyes stare back at him as a relieved sigh escapes you. "Rin..." His name rolls off your tongue in a way that makes him remember just why your voice was his favorite sound, "I love you."

He rubs your knuckles as a silent 'I love you'/apology for the misunderstanding - he'll have to hurry up and learn how to phrase his words better in the future to avoid mishaps like this.

Sae Itoshi

"Humans were so desperate to understand each other that we created languages - both verbal and non-verbal. Isn't that the same for us? For a long time, we didn't know what to say or how to tell each other things so tender, to be vulnerable around each other, but we still wanted to know each other. You squeezed my hand, I squeezed yours - and I telepathically knew." - Sphireath-wisp

Sae can't help but let out a sigh, exhausted from the match that his team won. The tension he held in his body during the match released with the relieving announcement that he won, that all of his efforts didn't go down the drain, and left behind his worn-out body.

He wasn't fond of the idea of joining his teammates for an after-match celebration at the indoor barbecue grill just down the street. Sae was more than aware it would eventually end with them drinking the night away. He burned up enough energy during the fan meet-and-greet - the last thing he wanted was another few hours of putting up with his teammates' antics.

However, he couldn't, not with you in the equation. Oliver butted in during Sae's private phone call with you. Despite all of his objections and retorts directed toward Oliver, him and that smooth voice of his coaxed you into tagging along. Now that you were dragged along with them, he had to keep you close. He's not letting you hang around alone with them, he can't stomach the thought of them bringing you home.

It was a joyous occasion - or at least it was supposed to be. You could notice the glares Sae was shooting Oliver every time he poured another drink for you, the way Sae insisted he should sit between you and Shidou so you could sit at the very end of the seats. Everyone raised their glasses and you followed suit, but Sae always reminded you: "Don't force yourself to if you don't want to. Don't drink too much."

Sae lowers his glass after the collective "cheers", chugging it down with ease. Silently, he chews on his food, eyes occasionally glancing at you to check if you're okay. One sign of his discomfort and he's out of there with you - perhaps he was hoping the both of you could get out there as soon as possible.

He'll put you first this time - something he rarely does for anyone else because he's at his very core, egocentric. If you're enjoying this, he supposes it's okay.

"Hey Sae," You pour him a drink as everyone else is absorbed in their own conversations, the alcohol adding a slight flush to your face and the tips of your ears, "are you happy?"

He takes a moment to process your question, the alcohol having its own effect on him. "...yeah, why? Are you not?"

"I am, very actually. I'm happy you won. You worked hard for it and you deserved it," you add - being tipsy does certainly make it easier to express yourself to the midfielder as it causes you to begin rambling a little, "You just seem a little... upset?"

Things between you and him go quiet and you glance away. "No, never mind. Forget I said anything-"

"Yeah, I am. I want to go home." Sae speaks bluntly - he's always like this, but it seemed much harder with you. It was as if he had to be careful when it came to you, scrutinize and pick every word to make sure the message he wanted to get across wasn't distorted.

"You can always go, you know? I'm sure your team would understand," You say between bites. He's painfully reminded that you aren't his, that as much as he wants to tell you that he wants to go home with you - he just can't cross that line between friendship and something even bigger. Sae takes calculated risks, but his feelings aren't numbers, he can't decipher this.

His hand accidentally brushes against yours and your skin feels like it was on fire against his touch. Goosebumps made their mark across your body and he notices when you shiver. Under the table, you cautiously reach out for his wrist.

"Sorry, can I?" You mumble, looking elsewhere. You can't bear to meet his gaze right now, it'll melt you. Sae's hands reply by enveloping yours, intertwining fingers. He holds your hand tighter and it feels electric. You can feel every callous, his fingertips hovering over your skin. You look at Sae, making eye contact with him.

He's focused on you, hooked onto the way your hand was practically made for him. It fit so perfectly in his. He couldn't get enough. You started this, so you better finish this was the look Sae gave you, grip hardening when you reached out for your cup.

"Wanna get out of here?"

You watch his gaze soften, melting like honey. He's grateful you can understand him so effortlessly because he doesn't mind treating you better than any of his teammates could. He's sure to learn about you with time, he'll know you like the back of his hand. He lives for the way you already know what to say to him. He feels heard around you.

He's no good at anything else but soccer, so he's found a new passion burning in him to understand you - how you could sit there and look so pretty, eyes clouded and hazy, tips of your ears flushed a pretty red along with the skin of your neck and collarbone. You'll surely explain to him your secret to making him feel so warm inside by tonight, it'd be quite selfish of you to keep things like that to yourself because he wants payback.

"I've been waiting for you to say that."

Reo Mikage

"Not to sound traumatized, but it feels unreal that someone can miss you and want you around so often. I feel like every worry within me keeps repeating, "Until when? until when?" and the people I love and that love confirms, "As long as you'd like."" - Schuylerpeck //tumblr

"Oh! Let's get-"

"Reo, sweetheart." You interject.

"But, I can-"

"No. You are not buying me anything else." Your hand wraps around his wrist, a borderline desperate tug on his arm, "I won't let you." You say firmly and the way your eyebrows furrow tells him that you aren't pleased at all.

"I'm sorry!" He blurts out before you can get any more upset at him, guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders when he realizes he overdid it. "I didn't mean to, I just wanted to spoil you. Your favorite bouquet of flowers was right at the display."

You let out a vexed sigh. "As much as I want to say 'it's okay' and let it slide, I'm not going to." Your hand reaches out to carry the shopping bags of items he had bought for you previously, not a single care in the world, and everything paid for with the swipe of his card.

"No, I insist," Reo holds the shopping bag in his other hand, preventing you from reaching it and earning a huff from you. "Baby, I really mean it when I can afford this. I'm sorry I made you upset, but you deserve this."

Reo slowly slips his hand into yours, relief washing over her in waves when you don't resist. "Baby?"

"Yes?" You answer - you always do, to his relief. You're terrible at being strict with him and even worse at being mad at him when he stares back at you, voice gentle and eager to do anything and everything for you. He was at your every beck and call, but you didn't want to abuse that privilege.

"Do you forgive me?" He wants to make sure, he needs to. He won't be able to put his mind to rest if he isn't 101% certain you aren't mad at him or else he might splurge again. If his kisses and charms didn't work, perhaps lady luck will be on his side and you'll spot something you want - then Reo can swoop you off your feet and satisfy that desire of yours.

You narrow your eyes.

"Is that a no?"

"I'm still thinking."

"Do you want to visit our favorite cafe? We can sit down there and rest for a bit. We have been walking for a while. Do your feet hurt? I can carry you! I'll call my chauffeur-"

You sigh, causing Reo to pause and frown.

He feels like he's going crazy in the silence and you feel your own heart clench at how disheartened he looks. You hug his arm to catch his attention.

"Listen, Reo," He stays silent, fully prepared to absorb your words and burn them into his memory, "I'm here because I want to hang out with you. I'm not here because I want a new pair of shoes or more perfume - because if that was the case, I would've just asked you for money. I'm here for you, we could go eat pizza instead of some high-end restaurant and I honestly wouldn't care because you're with me."

"I appreciate the gesture and how you insist you'll pay for all of my expenses," You quickly snatch a bag from his grasp when his guard is lowered, "but I'm not a child. I'm independent too. We have to learn to share our burdens and troubles together in this relationship, okay?"

"You're right," he admits without an ounce of shame and he's a fast learner. He's still a natural charmer, leaning in for a chaste kiss on your forehead. "You're so right. I'm so lucky to have you."

He feels this indescribable joy, to the point where the smooth-talker himself can't put it into words. You're there for him and you always will be, it puts his heart at ease, and it helps him breathe easier. You're engraved into his daily routine and life, but gosh, he can't get enough of you and all the surprises that come along with you.

"Do you forgive me now?" He hums, a little more confident. The lingering voice in the back of his head that drives his mind to the worst possible scenario becomes a little more quiet.

"Of course I do," You press a soft kiss on his cheek.

Taglist: @dewwberry, @saenora

[adlerfox]

Van Der Linde gang headcanons:

not proof read

•John eats his boogers or flicks and wipes them on people

•Micah stinks so bad you can smell him from a distance

•Sadie is like intolerable to get drunk, no matter how much she drinks she never comes off drunk

•When John and Arthur were kids, Hosea would force dutch to dress up as santa to try entertain them but ended up forever traumatising John bc he was so scared

•Charles will offer to braid all the girls’ hair when he saw them struggling, even one time arthur’s hair grew long and Charles would always ask if he could braid it

•Mary-beth would sit down with abigail often and try to teach her to read, Abigail would struggle a lot but Mary-beth always stayed patient and encouraged her

•Although Mrs Grimshaw was incredibly rude at times and could be harsh, deep down she loved the gang, she’d have moments of truly being the mothering figure to the girls when they were down

•There’s a running joke within the OG’s of the gang that Hosea and Dutch are called “mom and dad” (Hosea being mom ofc)

•Karen would always know how to make Jack laugh, she’d often offer to take him off Abigail’s hands and look after him for an hour or two, she loved spending time with him (she’d be a great mother)

•Javier can be a gentleman, offering one of his blankets or jackets to the girls whenever they got cold or teaching Jack how to strum basic chords on his guitar but he would have moments of being cold too

•Abigail is one of the most kindest girls at camp. Always checking up on everyone even when things are going smoothly

•Kieran is so scared of Sadie. one time he was sat on the logs overlooking the lake and she simply walked past behind him and he screamed at the top of his lungs and ran away

•Once Sadie knew Kieran was scared of her, she used this to her advantage and would taunt him while he slept , whispering stuff close to him which startled him awake, making him struggle to sleep at night

•Molly would often find some of the gang asleep during the day against a rock or tree (specifically Arthur) she would drop what she was doing and would find a blanket to gently place over them

(i think a few of the members would do this but i can see molly doing it too i love her)

•Sean and Lenny cause havoc together, leave them both alone in camp and you will come back to half your stuff missing and having to chase them around for your stuff back

•Bill is a compulsive liar