#bnchee
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he doesn't think she's ever seen him like this , he knows he told her to come over whenever. but it's not the same when he's been in his head all morning and all he can think of is how he has friends who's faces got blown out of their skulls others who lost their torsos before they lost their breath. eyes answer the door red from crying , eyes landing on the only angel on earth. ❝ sawyer , uh ... hi. ❞
@bnchee bc yes. gets a small starter.
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✨️
CHARLIE!!!! how tf can one person be so gorgeous, so rad, & so talented!? how unfair of u tbh >:( ok but really, everything you touch is gold. i will gladly follow you from blog to blog to bask in ur talent!! thank you for always being a gem, i adore you ok <3
send a lil ✨ for positivity ! // ft. @bnchee
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@bnchee asked //
i recognize your face from somewhere. [ from here ! ]
A smirk rises up onto Jamie's face. Oh, he fucking loves when this happens. When people recognise him, know him as someone. He knows he's got a pretty face - a recognisable face, yes, a face a journalist for one of the gossip rags called Manchester's response to the Greek gods. Being fit and famous is an incredible thing, isn't it. He's one of England's finest footballers - he plays for the Three Lions [ how bizarre! ], and, on Richmond, he's a fucking star. So, of course he gets stopped by people who don't necessarily know his name. It's more difficult when he's not wearing it emblazoned across his shoulder blades, with the large number 9 [ or 24 ] beneath it.
"How much of a football fan are you?" he asks, the smirk still on his face as he looks down at her. She's even shorter than Keeley, he thinks - he's not very good at guessing people's heights. And, just as the words really process in the air, he realises that she could recognise him from elsewhere.
Fucking Lust Conquers All. Jamie doesn't regret doing the reality show; it's what brought him back to Richmond, in a weird, roundabout way. But he doesn't want to be thought of as that footballer who got kicked off of cycle 7 of Lust Conquers All in week 6. That thought could stop with that footballer, and he'd be happy. He hopes that she watches football. Then he can ask about who she supports, and worst case scenario, she answers United, and they'll have to go from there. No explanations of why he chose to leave Man City two weeks into the the season, or why he chose to cheat on Amy with Denise by having jacuzzi sex. Football talk is so much easier to manage.
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PLOTTED STARTER for : @bnchee
───IT WAS LIKE BEING IN A DREAM… All of Soren’s life, he’d heard tales of merpeople and faefolk, but never, not even in the wildest stretches of his imagination, did he ever believe that he would encounter such creatures in his lifetime… and a SIREN, of all things! There were few men that could say that they’d ever laid eyes upon one, even from a distance, and even fewer and farther between were those lucky enough to live to tell the tale if they did. In that regard, Soren wasn’t sure where he placed with his unique situation, but the percentile had to be a fraction of a fraction, he thought.
Some might have called him a fool for taking the risk that he did in keeping the siren around, and others might have thought him crazy or deluded, or even assumed that she had him wrapped up in the persuasion of a spell. Many times, he’d even weighed the possibility himself, although he’d dropped the notion almost altogether when it had suddenly dawned on him that he just didn’t care. If it was a dream, then he didn’t want to wake, and should he be stepping off a precipice with naught but the tides of insanity to break his fall below, then he would happily take the plunge.
They had just come back from the marketplace; Sawyer’s first real outing since Soren had found her washed up on the shoreline outside of his lighthouse. As much as he’d enjoyed seeing her skip around his place in nothing but his oversized shirts, he’d come to realize that it wasn’t practical, especially now that he’d unintentionally attached himself to the sentiment of having her stay awhile. He’d loaned her one of his mother’s old dresses for the sake of blending in on their trip into town, but even that garment, as small as it was, billowed off of her small frame and swallowed her whole. He’d even made a joke about being afraid that he’d lose her in it.
To Soren’s surprise, he’d enjoyed the trip even more than he’d expected to, and for reasons he couldn’t have predicted. Watching the way that Sawyer interacted with the foreign world was as hilarious as it was adorable, and on more than one occasion he’d caught himself smiling completely uninhibitedly as he focused on her. There was something about the way curiosity and fascination painted her delicate features that made his heart swell and burst in his chest. Her doll-like eyes seemed to sparkle with what he could only have described as enchantment as they’d strolled together through the quiet coastal town, every bland commodity sparking intrigue as though it might have been made of magic. The car-ride had been especially memorable.
Without knowing what sort of preference the siren had, Soren had wandered with her until something caught her eye. The method had eventually led the pair into a quaint boutique that was filled with hand-made garments, the apparel crafted in a variety of silks, laces, knitted wools and breezy cottons that were well-suited for the fickle moods of the coastal climate. He’d quickly come to realize that Sawyer had an affinity for the color black, and he couldn’t deny that the shade suited her well, especially considering the inky pigment of her scales. That hadn’t stopped him from sneaking a floral-patterned dress in his favorite shade of seafoam green into the bag.
Just as the sailor had been all day, he was all but helpless to stave off the growing affection and adoration that he had for the beautiful siren, his doting gaze transfixed on her every time she’d step out of the changing room in something new. Her first appearance, which had her dawning a black sundress that sat snug against her dainty physique, had caused the faintest tinge of a blush to color his cheeks and a goofy grin to tilt his lips. He’d almost forgotten how small she was, as he’d grown accustomed to an overabundance of fabric concealing the curves of her body. After a while, he was sure that she’d stopped believing him when he told her that he liked the way the clothing looked on her, but it couldn’t have been any closer to the truth. He couldn’t help that everything looked good on her…
Once the shopping list had been completed and Soren had paid for everything, he took her home. The sky outside was beginning to dim by the time that they’d arrived, the bright blue fading into a vibrant palette of purples, pinks and oranges that streaked the horizon like paint on a canvas. The sailor filled his hands with the assortment of shopping bags and toted them up the winding staircase of the lighthouse, keeping Sawyer in tow. After he’d set them down, he took a moment to admire the view from the window before he’d turned back to look at her, noticing now that she seemed preoccupied with a train of thought.
Soren began to smile, offering the slight tilt of his head. ❝ You okay? ❞ He asked, earning a glance from her. ❝ What are you… thinking about? ❞ His grin widened and his eyebrows knitted together with a faint hint of curiosity as he watched the way that she was touching her delicate fingers to her lips, as though she was using the gesture in-place of finding words. The language barrier that hindered their ability to communicate was frustrating at times, but more often than not, he’d found that it had given him amusement.
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ANSWERED ASK for : @bnchee ❛ [ 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 ] ― sender and receiver are in bed together while rain lashes against the windows / tent / etc. ❜
⛧˖ ─── EVEN WITH THE PREPAREDNESS THAT THE weather forecast had provided the venue, the sudden shift in the elements had been swift and violent enough to warrant the cancelation of the days’ scheduled events. All of the rain jackets and umbrellas in the world couldn’t have saved the attendees from the turbulent winds that swept through the festival grounds, shaking the tents and causing the structures to sway in their wake. It had been drizzling all weekend, the blue of the sky desaturated by the billowing silver clouds that covered the sun, but now the rain was coming down in heavy sheets from black skies, whipping through the atmosphere and lashing at the walls and windows of the tour buses with a force that could almost be perceived as wrathful.
Despite the war that mother nature waged just beyond the thin walls, however, Eddie found an unexpected calmness in the humble space of Sawyer’s bedroom. It was as though her presence, in and of itself, echoed something akin to the quiet eye of a hurricane— an ironic concept, considering he’d recently begun to discover that she was just as much a storm as she was the stillness of the center. The metalhead had braved the elements to get there, sprinting through the rows of parked buses and trailers while raindrops pelted his skin like tiny bullets, soaking him from head to toe. By the time he’d flown through her front door, he looked a little something like a WET DOG, the mop of disheveled locks atop his head weighed down by the concentration of water that now dripped from the ends. It had taken little more than seeing the crinkle of her nose and the dimples of her cheeks when she’d smiled at him to convince him that it had all been totally worth it though.
Now, with his shirt in a soggy heap on the floor and his dark curls clinging to his skin, Eddie was atop Sawyer’s bed, big brown eyes blinking admiringly from his place on a pillow as his gaze traveled through each feature of her sweet face. It had only been a day since they’d first kissed, but since then, those pretty lips of hers had been all he’d thought about. Kissing her was all he wanted to do. An impish note began to color the expression on his face, curving his mouth into a slanted grin as his arm reached out to snake around her slender waist, pulling her closer to him. His cold skin was dusted in goosebumps, although it wasn’t entirely the result of the cold air. The proximity of their bodies may have had a lot something to do with it.
❝ You’re so warm, ❞ Eddie began with a feigned gasp, the curvature of his grin widening almost deviously. There was a pause, his tattooed forearm tightening around the lithe circumference of her frame in case she thought about squirming away, and then his chilled fingers were dipping upwards beneath the hem of her shirt to settle against the heat of her back. He couldn’t help it. Before Sawyer could even retaliate, his lips were capturing her own in a gentle but drawn-out kiss, his smile never leaving his expression.
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' good boy, baby ... '
sawyer's on top of him, perched in his lap like the pretty little thing she is. her dress is pulled up to her chest, lacy fabric clenched between arlo's teeth, as instructed ━ ❝ don't let go, and no touching unless i say so, ❞ she'd whispered, pressing a hot, wet kiss against the base of his throat. arlo's nothing if not eager to please, so here he is, hands behind his back, trousers at his knees and his lover teasingly rocking back and forth against him, her invitingly warm wetness brushing over his painfully hard cock without mercy. when sawyer had asked to ride him, arlo should've known better after the incident at the awards show with the APP - CONTROLLED VIBE . she was out for him with a vengeance. still, he doesn't budge, simply gazing up at her with wide , watery eyes . god, he wants to be inside of her so badly. in that moment, something gives, and sawyer yanks her dress off the rest of the way, a broken groan ripping free of arlo's chest. perhaps he'd looked just pitiful enough, sitting there with his flushed cheeks, cock weeping pre - cum, and soft, desperate little whimpers escaping his BITTEN - RED LIPS . she pulls him in for a filthy kiss, with a whispered, ❝ good boy, baby, ❞ before finally taking arlo fully, sheathing his member inside of her fluttering, soft walls.
#giggles! um anyways sooo#╰ * ic : ⧽ the boy’s a slag .#╰ * VERSE TWO : V2 ⧽ back to 505 .#bnchee#usfw cw
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how they have the bus to themselves, she'll never know. the sounds of chatter just outside barely registers to her as hazel hues drink in the peaceful face of the man she shares her bunk with. a moment thay causes time to slow, a sudden overwhelming need taking over; impulsiveness wins, pressing soft kisses to vic's neck and jawline in an attempt to gently wake him.
once she knows he's coherent enough, she adjusts herself onto an elbow, propped up and peering over him. long, brunette tresses fall over her shoulders, in their natural state of soft waves as she manages to catch his gaze, a bright, cheeky grin pulling at her lips, " so, what if i asked you out on a date ... like, a real date? "
the first miracle is being gifted a tranquil morning [ ... ] A MOMENT SO RARE IT MUST HAVE BEEN PASSED DOWN DIRECTLY FROM THE HANDS OF GOD HIMSELF. the bastard must have finally decided to give the pair a break —— or maybe those that occupy her bus are simply more considerate of their fellow bandmates. ( the same couldn't be said for his own. ) he was the least morning friendly of the group and often suffered the dire consequences of it in the form of rude awakenings. the second miracle is being able to sleep as well as one possibly could in a small bunk certainly not built for more than one person at a time [ ... ] but they somehow managed to make it work. AND HE WOULD SWEAR UP AND DOWN THAT HERS WAS MUCH MORE ROOMIER. that his long limbs didn't need to bend as much , that he could stretch out just a little bit more.
any dream that he was in the middle of would suddenly be tugged away and he would have complained if it weren't for the feeling of lips against his neck ; haphazardly placed and traveling along the slope of his jaw —— A QUIET AND RASPY GROAN VIBRATED HIS THROAT INSTEAD ONCE SHE STOPPED. didn't she know that she can't just kiss him like that if she didn't have other ideas ? the first thing his gaze catches upon begrudgingly opening is her watching him from above , bright eyed and wide smile and all. even if it was still a bit blurred [ ... ] it isn't the worst sight to wake up to. he'll slowly blink a few times ( once. twice. third times the charm. ) and his own smile begins to grow. ❛❛ that's what you're wakin' me up to ask ? ❜❜
a soft laugh manages to escape him and an inked hand would raise to rub at his eyes still tinged with sleep —— before turning to better face her. ❛❛ what's a real date ? ❜❜
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" ... it still hurts my heart knowing you've never seen blues clues." 😭😭😭
"I do not understand still why this is heartbreaking, iubire. It is a dog, yes? I don't know what you can learn from a blue dog."
#bnchee#🔪 — м��ѕѕιon reporт ╲ ( anѕwered )#🔪 — мy ғaмιly ιѕ мy ѕтrengтн and мy weaĸneѕѕ ╲ ( verѕe 06 )#( i can't lol )
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"i'm sorry. did i kill him? oh my god, did i kill him!?" the gun is still in her hands, though there's a desire to simple let it drop. she didn't know what else to do; she just saw huck on the brink of being stabbed and acted on impulse. each breath is a struggle as she starts to realize what she's just done. sawyer has been many things in her life, but a murderer has never been one of them. @bnchee
the body weight that had fallen on him after the gunshot had taken up temporary attention , it wasn't often the enemy got the jump on the blonde vigilante. in this case if he was being perfectly honest , he wasn't even sure who the enemy was. it took a better skillset than his own to find him. and even more skill to be able to stop any if not all of his security countermeasures set in place. the loft in houston was his safe space , not as much as the ranch house but huckleberry often didn't have time to go all the way back to the ranch in east texas to unwind. and houston was a home away from home when he needed it to be. just texan enough , without building too much chaos. still the loft had measures , which was why he'd felt comfortable letting sawyer stay over when she wanted to. platonic sleepovers or however she called them , something he knew he shouldn't be too open about but it couldn't be that bad it wasn't like they fucked or anything ---- and for the most part it was safe. or he had thought it was...
the intruder had certainly come as a surprise , as had the fight that followed. there weren't many people big enough to keep huck at bay , to say he was matched was an understatement. any memory of the right would be for naught , huckleberry never seemed to remember the mist of the action. not that it mattered, what he certainly hadn't expected , was sawyer grabbing the pistol out of the nightstand and firing it. the blood splatter on his chest was a feeling he was accustomed to , but not one he was happy to relive. especially not that seeing as the the second the man had stopped moving he heard her voice break through the shattered chaos. she sounded so scared. thoughts raced back into mind as he pushes the body off of him standing up instantly and moving to the girl on the bed in a heartbeat. one hand pulling the gun out of her hand by the barrel , the other instantly touching her cheek and shaking his head. no , no , he can't let this happen.
gun cocked , he turns and fires a round into the back of the mans skull. before tossing it aside and turning his full attention to swayer. taking her hands in his own. ❝ you didn't kill him , i killed him. me , see ? it wasn't you. it wasn't you. ❞ he's trying to comfort her , he's never been in this situation before. he's never had to see a civilian engage to this extent. his thumbs are tracing soft circles on the back of her hands , he kisses her forehead briefly. before turning his head back towards the dead body. he needs to get rid of it. sooner rather than later. the blasted skull , is going to be a handful to clean up. but swayer's haste in breathing brings him back to the moment at hand... his brain his scattered. priorities is what he needs, one at a time. one thing at a time.
❝ you just hurt him , to help me. thank you. i killed him okay. ❞ a pause , he needs her to breathe, he grabs a sheet off the bed and wraps it over her shoulders. is she going to be okay here ? he should take her home. get her out of here. she's certainly not okay. he remembers the first time he shot someone. and that had been someone they were actively trying to kill , because they were terrorists , in a foreign country. not some dude in an apartment in a very state-side city. either way , he's glad the loft is soundproof. otherwise , the police would have been here in seconds. with where he lives now... if only sixth grade huckleberry could see him now. a murder who doesn't flinch at destroying human life , making a comfy high six figures with all expenses paid... sixth grade huck would get mad at him for not shielding sawyer's face.
fingers move to cup her cheeks he leans his forehead against hers for a moment. he needs to get her out of here. he needs to get her somewhere safe...
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[ LAP ] + reverse // rue
domestic intimacy meme ( accepting ) + @bnchee // sawyer [ lap ] sender receiver pulls receiver sender into their lap
they're like, taking ideas. what to do, where to go, they're all high, and that makes for a pretty FUCKING CHILL NIGHT, she thinks. weed blown, moly popped, everything's sort of wired through and circling round and like, rue barely can tell what's up and what's down. everything that they laugh about, as the joint makes it round the circle, huddling close, with hands blown around the cold that bites at their fingertips. california in a cold snap, its teenaged renegades still willing to face the brunt of its terror.
the most sober of them says they go grab pizza, which is like, a pretty fucking rad idea to a bunch of kids looking to stuff themselves with skint wallets. who's going is piled up into the car, and rue there in the backseat at the left hand side, window rolled down so that she could stick her face out, breathing in that COOL AIR, her head left spinning. but there, there? what was that?
out comes sawyer, running up as the LAST MINUTE ADDITION, even though the car's like, full up. she wants to come, she says with that grin on her face, and rue hasn't closed the door yet and... she isn't really thinking. just reaching out to pull her in, sawyer left settled within her lap, making for a crunched space back there, but who's complaining? not rue, who's face is have pressed against the other's back, flushed and embarrassed because... what the fuck was she doing, exactly?
#bnchee#❝ r. bennett ❞ ┆ canon verse ┆ drugs are kind of cool !#❝ r. bennett ❞ ┆ meme reply ┆ everything feels so permanent !
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@bnchee - npc starter call ( ft. aamon. the first knight of hell / paynes father )
❝ Ah, Sawyer honey, give me a minute and i'll be right with you. ❞ he grins before turning his back to his daughters lover. he had only asked her to join him in the office, an office his daughter normally occupied but she was busy. which gave him the perfect opportunity to get to know the other. and sure maybe question her a little. but he had too, he had a legacy to protect. quickly finishing with the other, he waves his hand to have his men take the now unconscious male from the room before turning back to sawyer. ❝ apologies that you had to see that honey. but i couldn't well have him harming dancers now can i. after all poor emily is still in the hospital thanks to him. anyway, where's my manners. would you like a drink ??. ❞
#bnchee#interactions : aamon ( npc )#Q .#private verse tbt#im so sorry you gotta put up with this ass sawyer
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" yeah . . . i don't know what you're talking about . " it was a terrible lie . he remembered vividly when she told him about this event . he just didn't want to go . hoping the day came and went quickly . that she'd somehow forget about supporting her friend's album release .
#beta friendly<333#can use legacy too#bnchee#༻ 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 zane gianni ༺#tobedeleted.#do ik what this is . . . no but we'll get there
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❝ how do you do it? ❞ a pause and a sigh, ❝ you know, stop caring about what other people think. ❞
@bnchee liked for a grey's anatomy starter
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"I have a magical vibrating friend that gets me through hard times." - @bnchee
blinking slowly at sawyer's overshare, he wished that the rest of the band didn't leave him in the room alone with the ethereal end front woman. he shifted on the green room couch.
"uhhh . . . i kinda wished it was two seconds ago where i didn't know that." nathan replied, lifting the beer bottle in his hand. he took a very long swig. drinking the remainder of the liquid within its content, tossing the empty bottle in the corner of the room. the glass landing into the trash can.
having a opener was brutal enough, having to hear what sawyer does in her free time was gnarly. normally, he'd suggest to watch or even help. but, she was a different case. even with his heavy reluctance on having an opener, sawyer had grown on him or maybe nathan was getting lonely outside of the band. getting up off of the couch to go to the cooler to get another beer, he had lost count on which drink this was. what else were they supposed to do while they waited on transport out of the venue?
being drunk was always the best option in his opinion. smirking to himself, nathan grabbed a second beer.
"want a beer?" nathan offered, ripping the cap off with his hands. a talent he had acquired over the years. before she could grab it, he placed it on top of the tallest object in the room. which just so happened to be a stacked rehearsal amp.
giggling to himself, he opened his own beer. taking a sip in between laughing at his own joke.
"go...go get it."
#𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 ⸸ { answered }#use your tippy toes sawyer c:#hope this flies with you lemme know if i need to change anything#bnchee
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@bnchee
Laying back on the bed, Kat stares up at the ceiling as she lets out a deep breath. The only light in the room was coming from some candles, making the atmosphere calm and alluring. This was the first time she had ever done shrooms and she was having a pretty good trip, all things considered. Black Sabbath was blasting through a speaker and she swore she could feel the vibrations from the music, her heart beating in time with the song. There's a content smile on her face and she turs her head to look over at Sawyer. She just studies her for a moment, taking in her features in the candlelight. "You're so pretty," she murmurs without thinking.
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oh , he missed the comfort of his own home. THE COMFORT OF HIS OWN BED. it's the smaller things you take for granted while you're on the road [ ... ] ( yeah , yeah sure ) missing your family and friends for months on end and having to resort to phone conversations or video calls obviously sucked. but having a consistent sleeping situation was currently at the top of his list. SOME NIGHTS WERE COZY HOTEL MATTRESSES ; while most others were tucked away in his bunk on a bus that was shared with a group of dudes. the shit was not glamorous , and he'll laugh at any liar that says life on tour was one of comfort.
@bnchee: i left my bra and sneakers in your bunk.
❛❛ trust when i say i know you did. ❜❜ it's replied as if having to relive the war flashbacks from the night before —— TRYING TO SLEEP WHILE THE BUS TOOK SHARP TURNS AND SHOOK ITS POOR PASSENGERS INSIDE. all the while tossing and turning and feeling as though there was something beneath him [ ... ] and ultimately peeling a more than familiar undergarment out from under his pillow. ❛❛ i literally slept on your bra , chiquita. ❜❜ any notion that he was annoyed at the memory would quickly dissipate , however , suddenly melting away and making enough room for a mostly crooked smile. ❛❛ didn't see your shoes though. ❜❜
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