#feelin decent about it

[jorvikzelda]

sunset walks

[butchtranny]

"Hoot," said the owl with his head so white

"a lonesome day and a lonesome night!

Thought I heard some pretty girl say:

Court all night and sleep next day."

"No, no, no." said the turtledove.

"That's no way for to gain her love.

If you want to gain your hearts delight,

Keep her awake both day and night"

~ "The Bird's Courting Song" - Appalachian folk song, specific lyrics from Elizabeth LaPrelle's rendition.

[nyankojin]

summertime? more like... summerslime

Original slime variant post by @ancient-cats-unite

[ravengards-rogue]

WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ; 

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur. 

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun. 

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him. 

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate. 

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy. 

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures. 

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember. 

 Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him. 

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain. 

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down. 

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something. 

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while. 

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately. 

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you. 

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish. 

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting. 

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit. 

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs. 

“Arthur,��� Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,” 

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,” 

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,” 

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.” 

You giggle back at him 

“What kinda trouble is that now?” 

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice. 

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.” 

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.” 

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly. 

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn. 

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted. 

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it. 

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily. 

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

 Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show. 

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp. 

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms. 

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine. 

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that. 

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.) 

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did. 

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it.  It was just all too easy again, to be with you. 

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family. 

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see.  Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

 It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street. 

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy.  John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you. 

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you. 

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision. 

You might turn him into a literate man yet. 

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life. 

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself. 

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck. 

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?” 

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you. 

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,” 

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat. 

“John,”  

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.” 

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,” 

“A foolish one,” 

John laughs. 

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving. 

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get.  He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently. 

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.) 

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters. 

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living. 

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is)  loyal to Dutch. To the gang. 

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after. 

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long. 

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time.  He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about. 

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around. 

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen.  If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing. 

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.) 

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit. 

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would. 

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d  never find again. 

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves. 

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too. 

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way  they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you. 

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him. 

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him.  You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,” 

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease.  All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides.  You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space. 

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words. 

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.” 

Darling as you always are, you nod softly. 

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ; 

Wandering. 

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on. 

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly. 

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains. 

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few. 

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it. 

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list. 

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

 You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are. 

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him. 

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some. 

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you.  And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything. 

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not. 

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss. 

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars. 

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze. 

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks. 

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?” 

“Well, I’m not fine with it.” 

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?” 

“Please, what?” 

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.” 

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life.  “Yeah, that’s good to hear.” 

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto. 

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head. 

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,” 

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires. 

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you. 

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed. 

“Kiss?” 

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[peachsukii]

₊✩‧₊ ⎯  Decorating Sakura’s Room 『 ♡ sakura haruka x reader 』

content // after seeing sakura's empty room for the first time, you're determined to make him feel more at home with a few additions.

note // tumblr decided not to post this yesterday for softie sunday lol so here it is!

Sakura's always deterred you from coming back to his place for your date nights, avoiding the topic altogether by offering to meet up at Pothos or to watch movies at your place instead. For the first month or so of dating, you didn't question it much, but now? It's getting suspicious. What did he have to hide from you?

"C'mon, we always go to my apartment. Why do you never have me over?"

Your demand has Sakura sweating, unable to come up with a logical excuse to keep you away any longer. He knows damn well that you can see right through his lies...and he has a terrible poker face around you.

"Fine, but don't expect much," he mutters, stomping passed you and continuing down the street. When you approach his front door, he takes a deep breath before twisting the handle.

"Do you not lock your door?!" You exclaim, noticing he didn't have a set of keys on him. "Saku, that's dangerous as hell!"

"S'not a big deal," he mumbles before kicking his shoes off into the corner, completely ignoring the shoe rack behind the door. "Don't have anythin' to steal, anyways."

You're confused by his words until you get a decent look at the apartment. It's...bare. Not a single decorative item in sight.

"Did you just move into this place?" you ask, confused. You're slowly making your way back to his bedroom, awestruck by the lack of evidence that anyone lives here.

"Nah, been here since I got to Makochi."

You turn to face him, a sad glint in your eyes before shaking your head. It makes him swallow nervously, the tips of his ears warming by the second. You don't say another word about it for the rest of the day.

A couple days pass until the two of you have plans again. You insist to meet at Sakura's place, and after lots of begging, he begrudgingly agrees. When you finally arrive to his place, you can barely knock on the door with how full your hands are with numerous bags of gifts. He opens the door as your mid-swing with your foot to "knock," immediately overwhelmed by the amount of stuff on your person.

"Th' hell is all this?!" Sakura shouts while attempting to grab a few of the bags from your hands. "Yer like a walkin' target with all this! Get in here already!"

"Sorry, Saku. I couldn't help it."

Sakura places the bags on the floor, slowly peaking through them to investigate just what the hell you've unloaded into his space. There are tons of essential items in neutral tones - a few sets of towels, a bath mat, two pillows and silk cases, a 4 set of plates and bowls, silverware, a pair of black house slippers, a brand new reusable water bottle, a water filter for the fridge, and a picture frame.

"I might've went a little overboard," you say sheepishly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "I felt bad you didn't have anything to make your home feel like your own. So I got you some things to warm it up, make it feel more permanent and a place you like, not just one you sleep in."

Sakura's speechless - devastated, even. He can't comprehend what he did to deserve your sweetness, biting his lip to keep his emotions caged. His cheeks are ablaze as he picks up the picture frame, noticing the plastic film is missing and there's a familiar set of pictures behind the glass.

"I went ahead and put in the pictures we took at the photo booth from the theater on our first date, you don't need to keep⎯ "

Your silenced by Sakura's lips capturing yours, his shaky hands cradling your face. Your squeak of surprise makes his heart skip a beat.

"Thank you," he whispers as you part, moving to wrap you up in a tight hug. "Yer...always so warm, like bein' under the sun on a hot day. I'm still getting used to that feelin', but this helps more than you know."

Your heart swells as you lay your head on his shoulder, absorbing all of his affection in the moment.

"Of course, Sakura. You deserve to be happy and feel like you belong."

His grip tightens on your shirt, a shiver running down his spine at your words. One day, he'll be able to tell you how you've made him feel at home for awhile now, and that the material possession are a nonfactor.

You pull back from his hug and pat him on the shoulders. "I'll help you put everything away and whatnot."

The two of you spend the next hour unpacking all of the goodies you've bought, leaving the picture frame for last. Sakura grabs the frame and paces the apartment a few times, pondering where exactly he wants to put it until the perfect spot pops into his mind.

Right above the shoe rack so you can welcome him home every single day with your bright smile.

『 #reis softie sundays 』

[pepsiboyy]

BELLYACHE.

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: where reader comes home after a long day with a stomach ache to her loving boyfriend :p warnings: established relationship, use of y/n lol, FLUFFF!!!!!!!!!!!, cursing a/n: hi idk i thought of this and wrote it in like 20 min and u guys are BOMBING cruise control so YAYYY i hope it is freaking awesome love u all <33

your breath was shaky and your eyes were lidded as you searched for your keys in all of your pockets. the fresh love hoodie that draped over your body was the only thing keeping you at a decent body temperature as you stood outside the triplets' home, a hand clutching your stomach. it had been aching since earlier today, and you couldn't help but assume it was just your cramps.

"fuckin, where is it."

your eyes scanned your backpack, now, for the spare.

"there you are."

you quickly grab the key and open the front door with it, letting out a deep sigh of relief as you let yourself in and shut the door quickly, yet quietly behind you.

after a long day of nonstop work and being on your feet, you were just ready to lay down with your boyfriend. tomorrow was your first day off in about a week now. your body couldn't take anymore, especially not the nonstop stabbing pains that no amount of painkiller seemed to kill.

with a deep sigh, you set your things down at the kitchen table and moved to grab a soda in the fridge. you took two pepsis from their box and shut the fridge, smiling softly to yourself at the thought of your boyfriend's expression when receiving a pepsi from you.

finally, a moment to yourself and your boyfriend where you two can relax and not worry about you having work the next morning. relax and just have your boy to yourself, relax and just-

thud.

your eyes widened and your body froze its movements as one of the pepsis rolled down the stairs and cracked open, exploding all over the floor and against the cabinets.

footsteps came rushing up the stairs, and you turned your head to see your boyfriend, chris, hair disheveled like he had just awoken from the best sleep of his life.

"y/n? are you okay?"

you set the other pepsi down and let your arms fall to your sides, tears running down your cheeks.

"hey hey hey," chris quickly made his way over and, careful not to step in the soda on the floor, stood in front of you and cradled your face in his hands. "what's wrong my love? it's just a pepsi, and-"

"it was the last one." you mumbled before burying your face into your hands.

"it's okay, really, you can have this one," he held up the pepsi that you had set on the counter. "or we can share it," he chuckled, knowing you would offer.

you let out a deep sigh and shook your head, looking at chris for a moment before looking away. "i just want to be with you. i'm tired of being on my feet, i'm sick of work, i'm sick of people, my stomach is killing me and it won't stop," you sniffled, looking up at him.

chris nodded as he listened closely before coming forward and setting a hand against your cheek. he gently kissed your forehead and wiped your tears with his thumbs. "go get changed into something comfortable, i will clean this up." he whispered softly, smiling reassuringly at you.

with a soft nod, you collected your things, including the stray pepsi and made your way down the stairs and into chris's room.

you let out a deep sigh as you took in the scent of his room, almost immediately feeling comfort. you set your backpack down by his desk and began changing into some pajamas you had laying around in chris's room. you pulled the hoodie back over you and shifted to carefully lay against chris's bed, your mind and body finding comfort in his sheets while trying to ignore the undying pain in your stomach.

your eyes almost immediately began to close.

"how you feelin?"

you lifted your head to see chris, smiling softly when noticing the cup of chamomile tea and some painkillers. he shut the door behind him with his foot and made his way over to the bedside table, setting them down by you.

"'m okay." you mumbled as you smiled brightly at him.

god, you loved him so much. it's the little things. really.

chris nodded as he shifted to lay beside you, humming to himself in the process.

you took a sip of the tea he made for you, humming at the taste and setting it down. "thank you for the tea, really."

chris nodded as he shifted to lay down, his head in the crook of your neck now as he gently pulled you against him by your waist.

his hand moved to gently tuck under your fresh love hoodie and gently graze your stomach, his hand resting there softly.

your face felt hot. every time chris got remotely close to you, it did. this kid gave you butterflies at any given moment.

"is this okay?"

chris's voice ripped you from your thoughts as you nodded and closed your eyes, moving to gently wrap your arms around his shoulders, one of your hands moving to gently bury into his hair.

chris hummed as he felt your touch, his eyes closing as he allowed his thumb to graze back and forth on your skin softly.

"get some sleep alright?" chris mumbled softly, his voice groggy.

you smile softly and nodded, as you knew chris was already beginning to trail off.

"i love you so much," you whispered, eyes closing as you leaned down to gently kiss the top of his head, before you allowed your head to fall back and and your mind slowly drift to asleep.

"i love you too, y/n."

chris fell asleep, his hand never removing itself from your stomach and/or waist and his breath soft against your chest.

and when you woke up, your bellyache was gone.

[heartfullofleeches]

Got a fletcher ask cause that man gives me penis worms. I imagine fletcher giving silver fox darling massages cause they old and I’d imagine they’d have back problems, I feel like than man would be good with his hands if you get what I mean 😏

- Cap Anon��

Darling complaints about a knot in their lower back one morning while climbing out of bed and out pops Fletcher from his hiding place outside their window to bang on their front door with the neighborly offer of a full body massage. Built up his hands and muscles nicely over the years with farmer work - not to mention his natural bulk being a Flemish Rabbit. Plus, his aunt and uncle were a bit up there in age when he was sent to move in with them a kid so he's got some experience already. Had he not developed a love for the land and quiet life outside the city - Fetch might've become a masseuse.

He could also help with some stretches- Wouldn't want them to pull anything when he finally slips a ring on that finger and gets them into his bed

-

"Gimme five...ten minutes top. I'll have you feelin' like a brand new fox in no time. Can't relax and enjoy your retirement with that crook in your back, now can ya?

As much as you'd hate to admit it, this rabbit's got you cornered. The pain was manageable when it was just in your back, but after pushing yourself harder then you should've small aches have begun sprouted all over your body. A nice massage might aleve some of your stress- Enough for you to get a good night of sleep for once.

"Five minutes. Not a second longer. Do a decent job and I might reward you by letting you come back."

The farmer sports a toothy grin, eyes beaming with opportunity.

"Promise I won't disappoint."

A promise he surely kept-

Decades of tension and the tax of hard labor melting right off your shoulders as Fletcher kneds the taunt muscles of your neck and back with his large, capable hands. Your tail hasn't been this active in years, whipping against his thigh as the man struggles to keep his eye trained on his duties. Once you grew accustomed to his touch, you halted the session briefly to remove your shirt as it took too much away from your relief.

If that didn't do Fletcher in, a close second was the wistful sighs and drops of praise falling from your lips.

"That's it... Get your elbow into it if your hands are getting sore... Little lower... Right there... Good boy."

Fletcher chuckles - anything to distract himself from the effect your words have on him. "Same time tomorrow?"

[betterthana-six]

| MUSIC TO MY EARS - [ABBY ANDERSON] - CHAPTER TWO |

PAIRINGS: stoic!rugby player abby x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you and your new(ish) roommate, Abby Anderson, have gotten into an argument. about what? unclear at the moment. but it's got Abby in a fit of shame. until late one night she hears you outside with someone whose voice she doesn't recognize and listens in.

WARNINGS: yall. whats up. let me know if you like it pffffft. this is definitely a slow burn, but lots of pining, yearning, and, yes, smut to come. TRUST. so, mdni. there are a lot of flashbacks between now and when they met so we get the full story eventually. this is more of a light hearted story but it does deal with coming to terms with sexuality (and who best to help you along that journey but rugby playing and stoic Abby Anderson?). anyways, i hope that the five people who might read this like it.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Music To My Ears: Chapter 2

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

Without a plan for what to say nor a thread of rationality, Abby swings the door open. She half-expects you to fall back on her feet when she does it, but you are nowhere to be found. Only in your absence does she realize how hard her heart is pounding.

She takes a beat, feeling dumb in surprise. In all of the heat of her anticipation, Abby must have waited too long. Too late, she realizes. 

To the left, she peers into an empty hallway. The overhead lighting forces her eyes closed. The walls are covered in paper flowers where students wrote their plans for Spring break in permanent marker. 

To the right, Abby sees a group of people she somewhat recognizes all crisscrossed on the floor, encircling and packing what she presumes to be joints. Spearheading them is her friend, a fellow rugby player, who sees Abby and playfully lifts a joint in the air, gesturing an invitation.

Abby closes the door gently behind her and walks over.

“Care to join? We’re going to the balcony once we’re done here,” her friend says. Abby just looks over her shoulder.

“Nah. Nah, I’m good. Hey, did you guys see anyone out here a minute ago?” Abby asks.

“If you’re looking for your roommate, pretty sure she went to the bathroom. She wasn’t looking too hot.”

“What did you see?” Abby nearly hisses. 

The friend raises their hands up in the air so as to claim innocence. “Shit, man, I don’t know. I think her date went bad or something.”

By the time the friend stops talking, Abby has already turned the other way, headed straight for the bathrooms, mumbling a vacant ‘thanks’. 

She peers around the corner and slowly pushes the door in to listen for movement. All the lights are on. The motion sensors had been activated, which is strange considering the floor is usually dead at this hour.

The bathroom stalls are empty but there’s a shower going. 

Abby calls your name faintly but gets no answer. She walks closer to the sound of running water, and through it, a distant voice singing. 

“More than a feelinnnnnnnnnn’, more than a feelin’, when I hear that old song they used to- more than woaaah woahhh’, I begin dreaminnnnnnn…’”

Abby’s heart settles a bit as she walks down the white, linoleum hall. She calls your name again.

The singing stops abruptly but someone sniffles.

“What-uh?” You call out. It is the perfect sound to Abby. A sound she’d grown accustomed to hearing whenever she pissed you off. She doesn’t have to guess for a second that it’s you. And, the exaggerated “-uh” you added to your words when she teased you only confirmed it.  

“I didn’t know there was a concert going on. I would’ve come earlier.”

You stay silent, knitting your brow.

She knocks on the tiles outside your stall. “It’s Abby.”

“Abby… Abby… what can I do for you, Abby?” You ask, your voice illuminated drunkenly as you roll her name over in your mouth. 

She laughs. “Um, are you decent?”

“Are you decent?” 

“Okay, princess,” Abby says a bit more sternly now. “I’m trying to make sure you don’t drown. Either by vodka or the shower. Now, can I, please?”

“Come in, come in.” Abby draws the curtains open to see you finally. She hides a smile and adjusts to the sight before her. She can feel her heart swell a bit. Your legs are sprawled out on the floor, heels still on. That can’t be comfortable. She sees the redness around your ankles. There’s mascara running down your face and not an inch of you is dry. You’re wearing your special occasion maroon dress, as Abby suspected, which now clings to your body with the weight of the water that drenches you completely. Abby has to avert her eyes. She knows you’d never let her see you like this if you were sober. “Hey, crib. Welcome to my MTV,” you say.

Then Abby sees the flask in your hand.

“Alright, hand it over,” Abby says. She kneels down to you with an open hand.

“Hand what over?” You smile big and clutch the flask closer to your body. “I’ve never realized how big your hands are,” you lie. Deflect.

You have Abby. Just like that. Her ears bent to every one of your words and her entire body enslaved to your stare. She is taken aback from how much you affect her. 

She feels it in her stomach. 

Your lips are full and dark, stained vibrantly with some berry. Maybe wine, she thought. You look up at her now, with that full deep smile, and Abby forgets for a moment that you were ever crying on the floor outside your room. 

You look acutely into Abby’s eyes, testing her. 

“Princess…” She elongates the word, staring at you. “Come on, now.”

“Alright, alright,” you concede. You take another swig and give in, handing Abby the flask. “Those damn puppy dog eyes.” 

Abby laughs. She smells the flask and grimaces a bit. She turns the shower handle until the water no longer flows.

“Bad night?”

“Best night of my life.”

“It sounded pretty grim.” She shoots you a knowing look. 

“Shit, how much did you hear?”

“Enough,” Abby says, looking at the floor. She’s almost skittish. “Enough to understand why you’re laying underneath a running shower at almost midnight. I mean, shit, you were right outside the door. It was kind of hard not to listen in.”

“Okay, fuck you very much,” you laugh. “I figured you were asleep.”

“I pretended to be,” she admits with a guilty smile.

You scoff. 

“Well,” Abby says. “I’m glad you have a sense of humor about it now.”

“Yeah,” you hiccup. “Totally hilarious. God, I look fucking pathetic.”

“You look fine,” she says, looking you over, slowly making way up to your eyes. When she gets there, she can’t read your face.

“I don’t want to talk about it. So, don’t ask.”

She nods her head like it was the simplest thing. 

“Let’s go,” Abby says. 

She reaches a hand out to you. You lean into her for stability, soaking her clothes with your own wet mess, but Abby doesn’t shy away from it. Rather, she grabs your waist and puts your arm around her shoulder, squeezing you tight and concentrating ahead to ensure a clear path.

You, however, are looking up at Abby, though her gaze is fixed elsewhere. 

In her arms, you feel like you’re floating. There might as well be a halo of stars swirling above your head. Your legs trail a bit behind hers as she guides you down the bathroom hall. Suddenly, it’s all so incredibly simple. Or, perhaps, all the happiness vodka afforded you is working its magic tenfold, pulsating a warm thrill through your body. It overwhelms you in a dreamy state of mindlessness. You stare at the sharpness of her cheekbones. Her mouth, downturned and focused. Her arms, her arms…

“Wow…” you whisper, eyes locked on her face, arms messily draped around her. Your nose is inches from her neck. Abby just grins.

“I somehow actually didn’t know,” she says, “you curse like a sailor when you’re drunk.”

“Yeah, well, there’s actually a lot you don’t actually know about me actually, so...” You boop her nose with your free hand and shine a wide, stupid smile at her.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

Once you get to your dorm room, Abby sits you down on her desk chair and covers you in one of her towels. She brings you her water bottle and nods to you, indicating a command: sip. 

The only light in the room is her desk lamp, and it shines a warm and dusky yellow onto your face so Abby can see your puffy eyes and wine stained mouth in clear view. Abby contains herself as best she can. This is not the first time she’s caught herself staring at you, far from it; she turns her head away when you look up at her, keeping her composure, as always. 

She takes a small rag and starts dabbing the makeup running down your face. 

A sudden pang of guilt permeates your floating feeling. It sobers you up a bit, letting in the very feelings you were trying to avoid. As quickly as you were starry-eyed, swept up in Abby’s hold, you are washed over in a wave of grief, a twinge of pain piercing your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you say, straining your voice. “I’m a mess.”

“Don’t worry about it, seriously.”  Her eyes focused everywhere but yours. She continues to dab your cheeks softly.

You huff, tears threatening to make their way out. You hiccup and take another sip. “I don’t want to go to bed,” you say. “Not yet.”

“That’s fine,” Abby says. She kneels at your feet now, unbuckling the tiny straps of your shoes delicately. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t-”

“Abby, please, can you look at me?” 

The question came out more impatient and whiney than you planned. But Abby obliged, her hand resting on your ankle. 

“Abby,” you say, shaking your head in defeat. “Abby, I screwed everything up tonight.”

“You didn’t screw anything up.”

“I did,” you insist. You place your hand on her face and she stays still, afraid to move or even breathe.

Then, Abby sighs, her eyes soft. “We can talk about it in the morning. I’m sure everything’s fine,” Abby says lightly, smiling at you.

She goes back to taking your shoes off.

“You were right about me, Abby,” you whisper. She looks up at you again and you don’t break eye contact. You tell her everything in those few words. You repeat, “You were right.”

Now, Abby stops what she’s doing and looks up. You see her in full. The light from behind consumes her in a shadow but it strengthens her definition and the fine edges of her face. 

She moves her hand and clasps your wrist, the wrist that cups her own cheek. 

She takes in your serious look and returns it with softness. 

Finally, black tears come spilling down your face, but you don’t necessarily sob. You don’t close your eyes or keel over on the floor. Instead, your face is resolute and still, as though you are simply lost in thought. Eyes on Abby but somewhere else entirely.

“Hey,” Abby says. She instinctively pulls you in. “It’s okay.” Her arms wrap around your body, sheltering you with her own. She breathes you in, holding you tight while tears fall down your face and onto her shoulders. “It’s okay.”

You succumb to her embrace and let your body go a little limp. It’s a warmth you haven’t experienced in years. The room is spinning; you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or the catharsis of being held by her. Either way, you breathe deep and shiver on the exhale, and, as if responding to you, Abby squeezes tighter. There’s no sense of urgency from Abby to end this embrace. It could go on forever, and you both would let it. 

It was clear. 

This is what it felt like to surrender to yourself, your burning heart linked inarguably to the fire in Abby’s. Pressed against each other like old friends, finally reuniting after being apart for too long, in an act of true intimacy. 

All of the tension and anxiety you felt around her these last few months dissipates. You can’t even remember why it was really there to begin with. You tilt your head into her, smelling her, digging your face into her neck like a child.

When finally you pull back, Abby looks at you as if seeing you for the first time again. As if her eyes were divinely predisposed to not simply look at you but really see you.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

This wasn’t a new sensation for Abby. 

It had even become somewhat of a mindfulness practice to contain herself around you, if anything, which was a problem she’d never experienced before. 

If December Abby could watch tonight’s spectacle, the irritated way she eavesdropped and the tenderness when she touched you, she would likely be mystified by this soft version of herself.

Her December self was far more regimented. Disciplined. Focused. 

Especially during season, Abby had to excel.

You do what you need to do to get it done. Keep your head down. Study hard, lift harder.

This was her mindset, philosophy, way of life. Whatever you want to call it, she navigated it with steadfast conviction. 

Her days were filled with routine. She woke up early and headed to the gym. Her protein shake waited in her bag after an hour or two of conditioning and her fifteen minute ice bath. She showered, and then she was onto her classes. Rugby practice lasted until early evenings most days. Then it was dinner and bed. 

Weekends were almost her own; she spent most of her hours reading.

Distractions did come every so often in the form of girls. Who doesn’t need to be a little distracted sometimes? 

They come and go. It’s never anything really serious. Abby had made peace with that. She preferred it, actually.

Abby wasn’t the type to force anything.

Her outlook was that if it was meant to happen, it would. She let it all fall into her lap. 

Just like Gillian did, and Ally. And Mara.

She’d been told by her teammates that that’s what makes her “quite the magnet”. Girls always like the quiet thing, a friend once said, someone fierce on the field and tender in bed. Talented in both areas.

All of that, Abby very much knew, was a tad disingenuous on her end. She just wasn’t invested, so naturally there wasn’t much for her to say. 

Get her laughing with an old friend, though, or anyone she’s really comfortable with, maybe when she’s drunk, and she becomes a talker. All silly and red in the face from giggling. It didn’t happen too often. 

So, at first, it didn’t cross her mind to be concerned with you. You two would be good roommates, she thought. Maybe friends, if it happened naturally. 

That was her rationale talking. Shower thoughts crammed her head not so long after she found you perusing her rugby trophies. She involuntarily assembled every view of you that she got from that brief introduction. 

Abby pictured your cheeks and nose. They were still pink after coming in from the cold. And your hair was pulled back with strands windswept messily over your face. You looked like a storybook character, someone totally imagined, pulled from the page into real life. 

And, there was something in the way you squirmed at the sight of her body. How your breath hitched when she bared her chest to you. It made something so completely obvious to her, but you seemed oblivious to it.

She couldn’t help but smile to herself like a fool while she thought it over. For fuck’s sake, Abby was grinning each time she turned away from you. She grinned all the way down the hallway on her walk to the showers.

You were intriguing to Abby. Undoubtedly. 

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

When she got back, you were sat down on the floor unpacking your clothes into small, wooden drawers.

Abby had her towel wrapped around her whole body.  She nodded to you as a short re-greeting and searched through her closet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a guitar case. She noted the stickers on it - some obscure bands, some random abstract art.

“You play?” She asked. 

You looked up to what she was pointing at.

“I’m studying classical guitar.”

“Cool,” Abby responded absently. “You sing?”

“Uh, to myself. In the shower. Sometimes.”

“I’ll have to stop by for a concert.”

You laughed, shaking your head. 

“What about you? What do you study?” You forced out. You knew you sucked at small talk, and, god, you were so fucking awkward it killed you sometimes. The words came out like sludge. Abby didn’t seem to notice, or, if she did, she didn’t let on.

“Marine biology,” she answered. “Actually, it’s ichthyology. I study fish.”

“Marine biology sounds way cooler.”

“Yeah. That’s what I usually tell people. Makes it seem like I don’t just stand around all day hunched over a microscope. People tend to envision me in a scuba suit taking photos of massive animals, like, a hundred feet deep in the ocean, so I let them.”

“I’m still impressed,” you said. “I was never good at science, but I love aquariums.”

“I love aquariums,” she agreed, earnestly. 

You both looked up at each other then.

You were about to say something else, but Abby started drying herself off, revealing her body, muscular and lightly tan.

“Oh,” you blurted and turned sharply away from her. “I- sorry.”

Abby laughed, and asked, “Am I offending you?”

“No, no. Sorry. I didn’t realize you were doing that. I’m good, though. Let me know when you’re done.”

“I mean, we’re gonna be roommates ‘til June. This might be something you have to get over.”

“Yeah! No, I know,” you trip over yourself trying to explain. “You’re very…comfortable… being naked in front of strangers. I wasn’t expecting it.”

She chuckled at that. “I didn’t know I was in the presence of royalty.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“You’re squeamish,” Abby pointed out. “You’ve never had a roommate before.” 

She literally pointed her finger out at you, like she finally decided on your guilty verdict.

“Fine, you got me. My last dorm was a solo. I didn’t want you to think I’m some creep, okay? We met, like, an hour ago.”

Your voice went all high-pitched in a way you could never control when interrogated.

Abby stayed quiet for a moment, letting your words sit in the air as she grinned to herself and wrung out her hair.

“I definitely don’t think you’re a creep,” she said eventually. “A bit innocent, maybe…”

“I’m not in- ” You snapped, whipping your head around. 

Abby stood tall and relaxed staring at you. She was fully clothed now, wearing a tight shirt and sweats. Her arms were bulging from the sleeves. 

Something about her demeanor was sweet though, even with her “who me?” face. She wasn’t trying to be mean.

“Sorry, sorry,” Abby said. “You’re just very polite is all. Like a princess.” 

You felt your face get hot. You turned away from her again and went back to organizing your stuff. Abby plopped on her bed indifferently and cracked open her book. 

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

An hour passed in complete silence. You worked away, slowly unraveling your belongings into neat separate storage units. 

You thought about calling your mom. No. How many times will it take for you to remember that she only makes you feel worse? There was really no one else to call then. It’s fine, you reasoned. You understood well by now that self-reliance had its growing pains.

Every once and a while you snuck a quick glance at Abby. You didn’t mean to, of course. It was more to see what she was reading. You couldn’t look too long. It was almost like she knew exactly when you were doing it, like she could feel your eyes on her, and she would instinctively catch you in the act, only to recoil nonchalantly in her book as soon as she spotted you.

Eventually, you stood up on your bed to string fairy lights across the ceiling and stick your posters on the wall.

“Is that Janis Ian?” Abby asked, breaking the silence and startling you. You turned around. Abby’s face peaked above her book. You looked back at the poster. 

“You know Janis Ian?”

“I think…” Abby says thoughtfully. And then she sang in a quick and quiet mumble, “I learned the truth at seventeen, that love was meant for beauty queens… right?”

You couldn’t help but beam a bit as you nodded a hesitant ‘yes’. She really didn’t look the type to start singing Janis Ian. 

You turned to stick another poster up when Abby laughed aloud. 

“What?”

“No, nothing, nothing,” she said, concealing a smile and hiding her head behind her book again. 

You cocked your head at her. “What?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t realize that you were a 60 year old lesbian.”

The light on your face suddenly went dim. You scoffed and looked up at your wall. You had stuck a pink 1994 tour poster with the Indigo Girls posed casually on it.  

“They’re all really great guitarists,” you said, plainly. “I grew up with their music.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me,” Abby said. 

“They just happen to all be old lesbians, it doesn’t mean that I am one.”

“I’m not judging,” She said, and threw up her hands. “I fuck with it, really. Old school gay vibes. That’s awesome.”

“I’m not- ” You said, raising your eyebrows at her. “I’m not.”

“Okay,” Abby said. She was agreeing with you. Truthfully enough on paper, but you still couldn’t tell if she was fucking with you. “I got it.”

Abby tried to decipher something in your face, but you shot her a chiding stare and dropped down from your bed.  

“I’m going for a walk.” 

You felt Abby’s eyes following you as you left. 

You walked around your dorm floor aimlessly until you reached an exit. It was the post-dinner lull of the night where some students were already in bed and some were already out.

Right or left, it didn’t matter where you went. You had no real idea of where you were anyways. All memories of touring the place weeks ago had flown from your head as soon as they’d entered. The ‘where’ of your transfer wasn’t the point at the time.

It didn’t matter. You walked to a bench a few blocks down and pulled out your pack of cigarettes. You only had them because they looked cool but always felt a little stupid every time you smoked one. They also came in handy when you needed one. Which you did.

You couldn’t put words to exactly what was bothering you about her. 

She hadn’t said anything outright offensive. She was joking around.

Abby just seemed like someone who thought she knew everything about everything and everyone. Yes, that’s what it was. She was too confident in her own intellect. And far too proud of her body. It annoyed you. And, you weren’t looking for friends who put you on edge anymore. You weren’t interested in being tested.

Abby knew she was testing you, however clueless an act she put on for you. 

It wasn’t something she did often. Not with strangers. At the very least not when she was sober. 

It was something drunk Abby does at parties. The drinks go directly to her head thus emerging a butch Casanova who shamelessly flirts with straight girls. 

“Straight.” 

Not that the goal was to hook up with them necessarily. The thing is, Abby just had a little theory that everyone’s a little gay. Some people just try to hide it, if they can help it. And many people can succeed for a while. Unless the closet door were to be cracked ajar by an innocent, drunken conversation or two…

“Are all the rugby team fucking each other?” They’d ask. “Be honest.”

To which she’d respond: “Why, are you trying to join?”

Or, something like that.

She didn’t know why it was coming out around you on a random Monday evening. She felt weirdly invigorated.

You so quickly became imperative to her, though she tried to refrain from taking the feeling seriously. She couldn’t explain it to herself well enough, but it felt as though something new was beginning.

Everything about your demeanor said you wore your heart on your sleeve yet you acted like a closed book. It was obvious in the way you spoke, like you had some secret to hide and were aching to scream it. And there was something to your features. Starkly beautiful, that was obvious to Abby, but it was more than that. She felt she needed to see your face again and again to remember the details. Even in two conversations, she felt an urge to fix her gaze on you repeatedly. 

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

She feels the very same thing now. The absolutely fatal desire to look and look and look at you until she was acquainted with every feature.

Even with bitter sadness written across your face, you are gorgeous. 

The light grazes your skin. Your hair still drips small water beads, and tears fall from the corners of your eyes like diamonds. You shake slightly in her arms.

You pull away, inches from Abby, breathing in her air. 

“I don’t want to go to bed yet…” You say again, and the only thing you can hear is her breath and the buzzing in your ears.

Your faces are just inches away from one another. Abby’s blood pumps so hard she thinks you can hear it. 

You tilt your head up to hers, lost in a trance. 

How wonderful it would be, Abby thinks, to take your face in my hands and kiss you.

She wants to. God, and she’s wanted to. For longer than she’s willing to admit. But she retreats.

You look up at her with hungry, eager eyes. 

Abby clears her throat.

“So, let’s not,” she says. You snap out of it. Your hungry eyes turn confused. Abby’s face changes per something that dawned on her. 

“Let’s not go to bed, princess,” Abby says and grabs your hand. “I have an idea.”

Chapter 3

Comment if you want to be on this story's taglist!

Tag babies: @soupycloud @femme-historian @ichokedonmyoreo @paleidiot

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

[mayearies]

✩ ABC’S

sfw alphabet with miles g. genre: fluffy hcs

—‘A’ IS FOR AFFECTION (how affectionate are they?) pretty affectionate with his s/o even if he can be awkward sometimes, takes some time getting close to someone again. if you’re in public, he would mainly hold your hand. maybe sneak in a hug or kiss once in a while if he’s feelin’ handsy. when recieving affection, he’s always open towards it. even if it makes him a little embarassed at moments (mainly in public).

—‘B’ IS FOR BESTFRIEND (what are they like as a bestie?) once he get comfy with you, he the type to play with you but also have serious talks to. he would like to stay close to you and hang out with you a lot. he’s also really good at rps (rock paper scissors) and shadow boxing, you gettin’ bodied fo sho ‼️

—‘C’ IS FOR CUDDLES (what is their cuddling schedule?) he likes contact with you, preferably skin to skin so expect his hands up your back or your stomach. he can be both a big spoon or a little spoon, he just wants to hold you (he will be a little spoon most times which you will tease him about). one cuddle sesh a day is required for him to function.

“baby? where’s my hugs n’ kisses? you aint mad at me, right?”

—‘D’ IS FOR DOMESTIC (settling down? how will they be helping out around?) he would wait to get a fiancée, let alone a wife. but of course he would want to settle down with you. he loves you. a pretty decent home cook, nothing special. he would watch his ma make pasteles so it’s one of the dishes he can perfect. he tolerates cleaning. doesnt like it but doesn’t fully hate it.

—‘E’ IS FOR ENDING (how does breaking up go?) would absolutely try to avoid arguments all he can. depends on the reason why you two are splitting, but he will spill his feelings about the relationship out to you. in his head. he doesn’t enjoy speaking his thoughts very much and just feels it’ll escalate shit. though, he would wish you well.

—‘F’ IS FOR FIANCÉE (how committed are they to you?) puts his commitment to you over anything else. though he claims he is not in a rush to marry you and that it could wait, but at the same time he be talkin’ about baby names and what a dream it would be to marry someone like you.

—‘G’ IS FOR GENTLE (how gentle are they?) he’s gentle on most occasions. his rbf and cold aura can be misleading. the craves your touch and your kisses. however, he can be a little on the rough side. for example, his mental state. it isn’t the best with his dad being dead and being the prowler, but you make it more bearable with just your presence. he can also be on the rougher side by squeezing places he knows only belong to him (neck, thighs, waist, etc.)

—‘H’ IS FOR HUGS (how does their hugging schedule work?) he dont mind them. he just dont like the long ones. makes him uncomfortable in some way. he doesn’t do them that often, but when he does they’re really memorable and soft.

—‘I’ IS FOR I LOVE YOU (how quick do they say i love you?) waits a little long before pulling the big ‘l word’. i wouldnt describe him as head over heels for you, but he’s in love.

—‘J’ IS FOR JEALOUSY (what are they like when they’re jealous?) oh boy, can this man get jealous. like, hella jealous. if someone so much as stare too long at you, he’ll glare at them while bringing you closer towards him. touching you? a line nobody can cross. that shit is a death wish. his mami, not yours.

—‘K’ IS FOR KISSES (how does their kiss schedule work?) hold me back i finna go wild on this one. though you’re probably his first relationship like ever, he didnt know how to kiss at first. as time went on though, his kisses got really passionate and filled with longing. everytime he kisses you, he misses you just a little bit less cause he knows you’re here. you’re here to stay. you’re his. he would kiss you anywhere. your least favorite part? kissed. your favorite part? consider it done, bae. he likes cheek kisses a lot. he doesn’t know why, though. he also really likes looking at your eyes when he’s done kissing you, he likes eye contact in general. if you are avoiding it or simply looking away from him, he’ll snap his fingers in your face and hold your chin as you turn towards him.

“ma. look at me. i won’t ask twice.”

—‘L’ IS FOR LITTLE ONES (how are they around kids?) not a fan of kids, they’re too noisy. he’s really awkward with them because he internally just thinks they’re little brats, but he also knows they’re stupid. his kid though? he will adore them so fucking much you might have to separate him.

—‘M’ IS FOR MORNINGS (how do your morning routines go?) he wakes up whenever you wake up. your morning routine is basically his, only that he adds a few more steps to it. those ‘few more steps’ being holding you for a solid five or so minutes before you carry on with your early rising.

—‘N’ IS FOR NIGHTS (how does your night routine go?) much like the mornings, his night routine is similar to yours. except, sometimes you dont even finish the whole thing because he wants your time and attention to himself before he drifts off to sleep.

—‘O’ IS FOR OPEN (when will they become more personal?) probably on the third or fourth date. the first two he would want to know more about you. but, he would drop little things he was interested in too.

—‘P’ IS FOR PATIENCE (how patient are they?) he doesn’t get upset that easily, with you atleast. don’t push him too far with your smart mouth, though. that’s what can really piss him off sometimes.

“the fuck you think you talkin’ to? tone down that attitude fo’ me.”

—‘Q’ IS FOR QUIZZES (how much would they remember about you?) he would remember the things that intrugied him about you, but he wouldnt remember every single thing. that’s how he knew what to buy you if he wanted to surprise you.

—‘R’ IS FOR REMEMBER (whats their favorite moment?) he loves them all equally, frankly if he had to choose he couldn’t.

—‘S’ IS FOR SECURITY (how protective are they?) pretty fuckin’ protective of you. and you love it. sometimes, he would stalk you just to see how you were doing or if you were okay. he just doesn’t want to lose someone again, he hopes you understand.

—‘T’ IS FOR TRY (how much effort do they put into your relationship?) he tries to make an effort into planning dates but those plans often get spoiled by his alter. he will always make it up to you, though. no matter what.

—‘U’ IS FOR UGLY (whats one of their flaws?) lying. he doesnt like to lie to you, but it keeps you safe. it got to the point where he would lie about little things on accident, like taking out the trash.

—‘V’ IS FOR VANITY (how insecure are they about their looks?) not a lot. if you think he looks good, then he looks good. sometimes he wonders how he even managed to pull someone like you.

“whatever, amor. if you think i look good, then i look good. whatever you say goes.”

—‘W’ IS FOR WHOLE (would they feel incomplete without you?) yes. nothing more.

—‘X’ IS FOR XTRA (random hc about them?) he behaves like a cat sometimes without even knowing it.

—‘Y’ IS FOR YUCK (whats something they dont like in a partner?) he probably doesnt like loud noises. yes, he does ride a motorcycle but he probably wears earplugs to help with the noise.

—‘Z’ IS FOR ZZZ (what are their sleeping habits?) he’s naturally a light sleeper, so anything faint could wake him up. something he does when you sleep with him is that he would hold you so close and tight that you once had a dream you fell and broke your back. and a actually felt that pain in real life. yikes. another habit he has is playing with your hair subconciously and muttering things about you in his sleep. you both have woken up to it multiple times.

© mayeluvsu 1610 version

[roosterbruiser]

For the requests: Hangman's girlfriend (also a pilot) overworking herself and passing out and he just takes care of her? There's not enough soft hangman out there

𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝐚 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

When you come to, you're laying on something hard. A groan falls from your chapped lips as you throw your arm over your face to shield yourself from any onlookers.

Before you even open your eyes, just between that strange blackness and the blinding sun seeping in from the windows, you remember what happened. You achingly, embarrassingly remember what happened.

You fainted. You fucking fainted like one of those ditzy girls in the movies from the 40s. You, a Lieutenant Commander and Top Gun graduate and permanent member of the Dagger Squad, fainted in front of everyone.

It's enough to make your cheeks red.

You've been a bit overworked as of late.

You're the maid of honor at your best friend's wedding and it is rapidly approaching, practically licking at your heels at this point. You're also teaching a new course at the academy that has proven to be rigorous--especially when you're in a room with 20 beta versions of Jake Seresin, who you already get enough of between base and your shared home. Additionally, Jake has been talking about the two of you moving out of your house and into something with more space. You know that he isn't just talking about space for your stuff, either. And although the prospect of sharing a life with Jake is downright butterfly-inducing, you've just got a lot on your plate.

You're spread thin. Entirely too, too thin.

You'd simply been strolling along the tarmac after a successful training simulation, listening to Bob talk about the most recent Ted Chiang book he'd just finished. You were hungry, having not had lunch yet, and you were probably a touch dehydrated, too. You'd accidentally left your water bottle at home that day and didn't care to buy any plastic bottles from the vending machine. And you hadn't slept very well on account of planning a road trip to Las Vegas for the bachelorette party after the bride had a change of heart. You'd also just pulled a solid 8-G's in your craft. No big deal, you could handle it all. You always did--Hell, it was your duty to handle it all.

Until you couldn't. It wasn't even a slow decent into it--one minute you were listening to Bob's sweet voice underneath the San Diego sun and now you're blinking up at the ceiling in the infirmary.

"Fuck me," you grumble, shaking your head.

"Not in front of Nurse Bledso, angel," you boyfriend murmurs. You know without even glancing in his direction that he's grinning at Nurse Bledso. "How you feelin'?"

You realize, suddenly, that your head isn't lying on a pillow. It's lying on his lap--that hardness beneath your head is the powerful muscle of his thigh.

You're still getting your bearings as you blink at the tiles on the ceiling and the crisp white walls and the bright lights. You feel moderately okay besides the headache pounding behind your eyes and a tender spot across the knuckles on your left hand.

But then you see Jake. He's looking down at you already, calloused fingers carefully raking through your hair. His face is very soft, eyes swimming with concern and brows knit just slightly.

"Like I fainted," you mumble, frowning.

He looks up at Nurse Bledso, who's watching the two of you from her desk, shaking her head softly.

"She's still got her wits about her, nurse," Jake says, mockingly wiping sweat from his brow. "Thank God!"

You just shake your head softly, biting your lip when he smiles down at you again.

"Did everyone see it?" You ask.

Embarrassment is what you feel most predominantly. Sure, there are still knots in your shoulders and there's still a stone sinking in your belly and you have a sheen of cold sweat over your pasty skin, but what's really bothering you is the thought of collapsing on the tarmac in front of all your fellow Navy-members.

"No," Jake says quickly, seriously. He understand you--he knows you better than anyone in the world, probably--and knows that he shouldn't chide you about this. "Promise, angel."

You sigh in relief, swallowing hard.

"Feel like my head should hurt more than it does," you say, reaching up to check for tender spots. There are none--at least not on your scalp or face. You'd assumed you were going to wake up with stitches in your face or on a little patched of shaved hair on your head. "Did it bounce off the tarmac?"

Jake's cheeks grow a bit pink as he shakes his head, continuing his soothing motion of combing your hair. He must've taken it out of your bun for you and worked all the gel out of it knowing that a tight hairdo would do very little to help your headache.

"I caught you," he says, shrugging gently.

He's a little bit embarrassed about it. It surprises you, because if your boyfriend has been anything in the years you've been together, he's been cocksure and corny. Always very sure of himself and in control, Jake loved to be chivalrous and do things like pull your chair our or open your car door--and he did it all with a mega-watt grin. But right here in the infirmary, holding your heavy head on his lap, combing your hair carefully--he feels that it's a vulnerable thing to admit to you.

Jake had been watching you from the moment your jet landed. He was always watching you--it was just something that happened naturally. He'd always listen to the comms when you were in the air, he wandered out to the tarmac when he know you'd be landing soon, and he was always angling his face towards the sky when you were soaring inside it. It wasn't an accident that he was servicing his plane as you were due to head back on base.

He knew something was wrong as you walked past him without even glancing in his direction. It was like you had tunnel vision (which you legitimately did). He wasn't a fan of the paleness of your face in comparison to the flush in your cheeks or the little stumble in your step. Already he was walking towards you, meaning to innocently ask you if you were doing okay, when you dropped like a goddamn sack of potatoes.

He didn't even realize what he was doing, his body just responding all on its own, until his knees were scraping against the concrete and he was cradling your limp form in his arms. Bob turned around just in time to see it, gaping at you and Jake.

"Jesus, Jake! Is she okay?" Bob asked worriedly, dropping his helmet on the tarmac.

Jake looked down at your parted lips and slacked brows, assessing you for any external damage. He was worried he had been just a fraction too late--that maybe your head had scraped the concrete or your face had collided too hard against his elbow. But you looked fine--well as fine as you could when you were unconscious.

He carried you to the infirmary, both his knees throbbing. He knew as soon as he felt a sticky warmth on his calves that his knees were scraped through his flightsuit. But it didn't matter to him--not when you were so entirely limp in his arms. He hated to see you so helpless.

"You caught me?" You ask quietly, knitting your brows.

He playfully pinches your nose, still being very gentle with you as he mockingly rolls his eyes.

"Is that so hard to believe, angel?"

You're at a loss for words. An overwhelming feeling is washing over you, one that is choking you up and inducing tears on your waterline and making a puddle of something sticky-sweet settle in your belly.

"No," you whisper, voice cracking. "That's not hard to believe."

If you two were alone, Jake would have no issue leaning down to kiss you. Hell, he wouldn't even mind kissing you in front of Nurse Bledso. But he knows that you care about professionalism--being a woman in the Navy, you worked hard to get the respect you should've just been given--so he refrains. But he knows--and let's face it, you know just as well--that you're in for a proper spoiling tonight. Sure, Jake would chastise you for your late lunch and for not simply sharing his water bottle, but more than anything--he was just going to thoroughly take good care of you tonight. Maybe he'd even make you take the day off tomorrow. He was heavily considering taking over your duties as maid of honor temporarily just to take the pressure off your shoulders--well, that and he knew he'd look good in that olive green dress.

"How's the knee, Lieutenant?" Nurse Bledso suddenly pipes up, glasses perched low on her nose.

Jake cringes, nose wrinkling. Thanks for that, Nurse.

You try to sit up slightly, furrowing your brows as Jake sheepishly sighs and presses you until you're lying back again.

"They're fine," he tells Nurse Bledso before looking back down at you with his eyes wide and calm. "They're fine, angel."

But it hurts you to think about Jake getting hurt. And God, you're laying on his legs right now--you're worried you're going to wound him so you start to sit up again before he carefully puts his palm in the middle of your chest and guides you back against his lap.

"But Jake," you try, but he shakes his head softly.

"M'right as rain, angel. Worried about that hand of yours, though."

As if on cue, the knuckles of your left hand are suddenly throbbing. You hesitantly bring your hand to your vision, expecting some sort of nasty gash, but it is bandaged in a pristine white wrap.

Jake carefully takes your wounded hand in his, inspecting it as if he's the one who bandaged it.

"Sorry I didn't get there in time," he mutters to you, looking down at you again.

He's truly sorrowful--your poor, sweet hand got injured. If he had just leapt forward a moment earlier then he could've collected all your limbs and saved you from any hurt at all. It makes his throat ache when he thinks about the scars that will mark your knuckles now.

But you are swooning on his lap.

"Baby, if you hadn't been there, my brain would've been mush," you reason, wrapping your fingers around his.

He sighs. He supposes you're right. Things could've gone a lot worse if he hadn't been there precisely when he had been. He loves Bob and he knows Bob loves you, but Bob was none-the-wiser as he moseyed on beside you. When it came to your safety, there was only one person in the world he trusted and it was himself.

"Don't have much faith in old Baby On Board, do you, angel?"

That has you grinning, laughter tumbling out of your dry mouth despite the throbbing in your temples.

Oh--Jake didn't know his shoulders were practically up by his ears until they relax at the sound of your laugh. You're okay. You're really okay. He knew you weren't seriously injured or sick--logically, he knew that. But carrying your limp form across base and having to let the nurse take over had proven to be more difficult than he cared to admit. He loved you more than anyone--anything, really--in the universe. The thought of something as simple as dehydration and stress hurting you the point of serious harm was making his head hurt.

"You sure your knees are okay, baby?" You ask this softly, concern written all over your features as your laughter dies off and your smile fades. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

He shakes his head at once, his heart sitting in his throat. Here you are in the infirmary and you're asking how he is. It's laughable, really--but it's so you. And he loves you so much.

"Gonna take a lot more to take me down than some silly old scabs, angel," he sighs, carefully kissing each of your wounded knuckles over the thin cotton wrap. "Hell, I'd break both my knees to catch you."

You want to roll your eyes--but you can't. You know he's telling the truth. He'd do anything in the world to hold you safely in his arms.

He's surprised when you lean up to kiss him. It isn't a steamy kiss, isn't one that would lead to anything more. It's a chaste and sweet thing, your hand resting on his cheek, your lips dry. But it makes him giddy anyway.

"Gonna make me start calling you a hero now?" You tease, affectionately swiping your thumb across his cheek.

He grins, chuckling.

"Now? You weren't calling me one before?"

There's that laugh of yours again--it's enough to make Jake release a breath that's been sitting in the middle of his chest since the two of you came into the infirmary.

"Someone's gotta deflate that ego," you tease, resting your cheek against his thigh.

He's still combing his fingers through your hair. And as he's gazing down at you, all the upset of the day fades. You're okay. You're here in his lap, teasing him, kissing him. He caught you. He caught you.

here is my tag list!!

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬! 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐛!

if you liked this, consider checking out my Jake x You story!

[lynzishell]

The Present 🧡 Chestnut Ridge

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Phoenix: How long have you guys been up? Julian: A couple hours. Danny: Yeah, papa said to let you sleep in so you won’t be cranky today. Phoenix: Oh, he did, did he? Danny: D’you wanna meet my goats? The orange one is Chester, the black one is Goober, and the spotted one is Lucky.

Julian: Watch out for Goober. I’ll be limping the rest of the day. Danny: [laughs] Julian: You think that’s pretty funny, do ya? Danny: [still laughing] Yes.

Phoenix: What? Joseph: How’re you feelin’ this morning? Phoenix: Fine. Joseph: Sure ‘bout that? Phoenix: Yep.

Joseph: I think it’s time you and I talked. Phoenix: [scoffs] No thanks. Joseph: I’m serious. Anything you wanna say, anything you wanna ask, let me have it. Phoenix: [shakes head] I came here for Danny. I have nothing to say to you. Joseph: Alright.

Joseph: Have you ever ridden a horse? Phoenix: Uh. No. Joseph: C’mon then. Phoenix: Wha-?

Joseph: Let’s go, city boy! And watch where you step in those shoes of yours. Phoenix: What’s wrong with my shoes? Joseph: [laughs] Phoenix: [sighs]

Phoenix: I can’t believe I’m doing this. She’s not gonna throw me off, is she? Joseph: Well, that depends on you. Are you tense? Angry? Need to get anything off your chest? Phoenix: I’m good. Joseph: Good. If you’re calm, then she will be too.

Phoenix: Oof! Fuck. Joseph: [laughing] You’re fine. Get up, take a breath and try it again.

Phoenix: Ahh! Joseph: Sure you don’t wanna talk? Phoenix: Fuck you.

Phoenix: Shit. Joseph: [laughing] That one looked like it hurt.

Phoenix: What the fuck is this? You think we’re going to have some cliché father/son bonding moment or something? Joseph: [shrugs] Why not?

Phoenix: WHY NOT?! Because until that stupid fucking letter, I didn’t even know if you were alive! Do you know how long I waited for you to come back? Eleven years. Do you know why I gave up? Because when mom died, you still didn’t come back, and no one could find you, so they sent me to live with Julian. And I figured there’s no way you’re still alive. There’s no way, if you ever cared about either of us, you still wouldn’t come back.

Joseph: I—

Phoenix: I’m not done. Because it was another eleven years before I heard from you. But it’s too fucking late. I want nothing to do with you. I didn’t want your letter. The only reason I am here is because when I told Dawn to shred the thing, she read it instead. She read it and she told me about Danny. And I couldn’t in good conscience not let him know that he has a brother, that I’m here, that if you leave him, he’s not alone. And I’m glad that you seem to finally have your shit together, that you’re able to be a decent father to him. That’s great. But now I’m done. Because I preferred it when I thought you were fucking dead.

Joseph: Why didn’t you shred the letter? Phoenix: What? Joseph: Why did you give it to Dawn instead of shredding it yourself. 

Phoenix: I… [sighs] Because… I needed her to do it. Joseph: Why? Phoenix: Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to.

Joseph: For what it’s worth, I always loved you. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about you. When I left, I never intended to be gone forever, to miss your whole life.

Phoenix: Then why did you? Joseph: Let’s sit down, get out of the sun.

[dietmountaindewbae]

please please please can you write me a fic where reader and Humbug Alex are both work colleagues (reader thinks Alex is goofy and nerdy - but boy she will be wrong) and they fuck in his office whilst a work party is happening downstairs. PLEASE

xxv. talk tonight

alex turner x reader

word count: 4739

summary: At an office party (humbug!) Alex watched you all by yourself, his heart tells him to hurry and talk to you before he loses the chance to.

warnings: ch*cking, scracth*ng, degrad*ng.

playlist

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The elevator doors shut close, and finally, some silence makes you feel at ease. You're not even close to feeling a buzz with the skinny glasses of sparkly champagne they served and as you traveled up the rooftop you propped a cigarette in your mouth.

You swing open the door of the building's rooftop, the company you worked for was having its 6th anniversary, and while everyone was celebrating downstairs, you were aching for some time by yourself. The fresh cold allowed you to breathe but it only made goosebumps crawl up your back.

"Be careful there" Someone says from behind you, you are too close to the edge of the wall, so you turn around on your feet and face the man with the gentle voice.

"What are you doin' up here?" You say with a silly smile. Alex was one of the best workers at the company, he's been rewarded and recognized for his honest work and loyalty to the company, he's a good guy but socially awkward when it comes to going to bars late at night after working extra hours.

"Just wanted some space" You've never had a real conversation with Alex, let alone, be completely by yourself with him. Alex was a nice man, with his long wavy hair and his shy little voice and thick Yorkshire accent, he was decent, always serious but he had something likable and magnetic about him.

"Me too, are you having fun though?" You grab from your skirt your lighter and try to burn your cigarette, in the attempt you fail, and he leans in, grabbing the lighter and helping you light your cigarette, grabbing one from his box.

"Not quite there yet," He says, blowing the smoke away, "I'm waiting for the booze to kick in" You giggled, catching Alex's attention.

"It's the first time I've heard you say more than 4 words to me" Alex looks down to the floor smiling, he's quite shy but very nice, "I enjoy that..." He looks back at you with a smile, maybe it was the booze, but his radiant brown eyes looking at yours so deeply make you feel hot.

"What about you? How are you feelin'?" As you were talking, Alex's eyes ran down your body discreetly, you were looking sexy with your black mini skirt long sheer black knee socks, and grey silk button-up blouse, nearly unmade, your nails painted black, and your hair in soft curls. The smell of your perfume and the cigarette that burned in between your fingers blew him away.

"...But overall I think the party's ok, I just don't like the music the DJ chose" Alex smiles softly, and each time you talk he takes a step closer to you.

"Horrible set, isn't it?" You lightly chuckle nodding your head, "What kind of music would you like him to play?"

"Mmm... I dunno maybe the smiths? I love the smiths... I know it's an odd choice for a party but-"

Alex interrupted you by lightly putting his hand on your arm, his thumb caressing the soft material of your shirt, "No, no, not at all... it's much better than the trash they're playing" He noticed his hand on your arm, and you smiled as he took his hand away very shyly, as if he had to ask if it was ok even to do that, you crossed your eyes and he look down to the floor scratching the back of his head, "I-I..." He clears his throat, "Sorreh.... I know the DJ, he's an old mate, I can tell him to play some smiths for you" You see the way his body moves closer to yours, how his shoulders move unsteadily as he breathes, meaning his heart is beating fast, his eyes looking at you with hope, and you realized... someone has a crush on you.

"That would be great, thank you Alex" You and him head towards the door after throwing away your cigarettes, he opens the door for you and closes it once you are inside the building, you smile at him as your eyes crossed again, and you take initiative to grab his hand as no one was watching.

Getting involved with your co-workers was never an option for you, all the men that worked here were bitter and boring, always bragging about their money, faking a smile every time they talked about their marriages just to proceed to flirt with all the women at the copier room. You didn't have anything bad to say about Alex, he was a dork, a bit shy and awkward yet he was the most interesting and likable person in your office. He made himself present with little actions, he sometimes dropped by your desk to leave you a bagel or doughnut since you worked in the cubicle next to his, but you weren't the only one who received those little acts, so you thought nothing about it, he hardly even knew your name, but he always smiled at you whenever he saw you.

For all you knew, he was single, and he's very reserved, you only ever see him talking with Nick or Jamie, the drinks in you made your rules bend a bit, maybe see where this gets you, maybe nothing would happen, but if it did, you wouldn't feel bad about it at all.

The only rule that had to be respected was, not being seen flirting with him, rumors spread faster than the speed of light in your office, and you didn't want to ruin this little spark between you two for just one night.

As you and Alex step into the elevator, you drop his hand, being on opposite corners of the elevator, you cheekily smile at him, he looks visibly disappointed at how you dropped his hand. When the doors opened again, you two walked side by side, keeping a reasonable but choking distance from each other as if he was agreeing to your rules without you even having to tell him. As you walked past the people you stepped into the disco-style dancefloor with squares of neon lights, and Alex walked forward to the DJ, saying hi to the guy with fuzzy curly messy hair, black headphones on his neck, grey sweatpants, and funny sunglasses.

He whispers something to his ear, and the guy nods and they switch the music. You hear the hypnotic sound of the intro of 'How Soon Is Now?' by The Smiths, you're lightly divided by people, but he's still able to watch you dance, and you look beautiful as you do. He sees you smiling, laughing, and having fun with the other girls, but your eyes are only on him, and his on yours.

Alex wasn't a man of many words, but ever since you had come into the office, a part of his heart had started to beat so rapidly, that he always turned to look at you whenever you untied your tight ponytail and let your hair fall, whenever you stretched your back and he could see the outline of your chest peek through your shirt, he was gone. He never tried to speak to you, he was too self-conscious to do so, he lived all of his fantasies of you and him in his head, he had the sound of your voice engraved on his head. Whenever you dropped something he was always there to pick it up and hand it to you, or when the printer was out of paper he was the only one that gave you some new paper to work on, every day when he arrived with fresh goods he made sure you were the first to get the warmest piece or the biggest slice. He did all of that, but you didn't think it was out of a crush, you thought it was him just being nice, and man if he could tell you how wrong you were.

In his head, you two had thrown away all of the people and there was only you and him dancing to some old music that no one thought was fit for the occasion, but you thought there was no better timing than this one, but the fun ends as you feel someone's breath on your neck, one of your supervisors drunkenly whispers close to your ear...

"That skirt fits your bum very well" You rolled your eyes and walked away, not saying another word, Alex following you closely. He catches you at the elevator just in time sliding inside.

"Hi," He says out of breath, you giggle and he brushes his hair away, "Where are we going?" You smiled as you heard the excitement of his voice.

"Well, I was planning to go the rooftop again..." You say looking down to the floor, he saw how that man had whispered to your ear something that woke up a flaming rage inside you, something so profoundly disgusting, you just wanted to get away as fast as you could.

"I have a better idea..." You smile, he presses down at the button, and he waits patiently in the opposite corner, facing you with a smile, you wonder in your head where he was taking you, while he was battling in his head what else could he say to keep you interested, he thought he could bore you at any given time. The doors of the office were open, the lights were completely down, and only the lights of the city that shone through the cracks of the curtains could show you two the way. He noticed you were afraid to step inside, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you in, "The cameras are down for the night, don't worry love, no one's gunna 'now we were here"

You smiled, "I'm not worried about that... just not a big fan of the dark..." You giggled and he played along with you, he grabbed your hand tighter, making your cheeks lightly blush as you walked into his cubicle, you sat on his desk while he pulled from a corner a carton box and took out a big bottle of whisky, "I didn't take you as a bad boy, Al"

"Well, this is the only thing that takes some of me headaches from when me and Jamie stay late doin' those bloody Excel sheets" Then he takes out from his pocket his MP3 connecting it to the little speaker next to his desk, playing more music for you as he quickly goes to the break room and fetches you a plastic cup and a soda. He sits on his chair and pours you some coke and whisky, and when he severs you a good amount of alcohol he hands you the cup and grabs the bottle touching the edge of the bottle with your cup and you both drink away.

"Thanks... I couldn't handle more wine... needed something stronger" You smile at him, and he brushes his long hair away.

"Do you wanna know something else about the office?" You smile and nod your head, fixing your hair to the side, he shuffles on his chair and you hear the sound of his lighter coming off, he puts a cigarette in his mouth and lights it, blowing the smoke up directly without causing the fire alarm to go off.

"What the fuck?!" You both break into laughter, "Oh my God!-" He lightly shushes you to make you talk quieter, you keep laughing until your abdomen hurts, and you sip on your drink once more, "Imagine the day I decide to set my supervisor's chair on fire... God"

"He's a dickhead" You nod your head.

"I don't even wanna say anythin' else, I mean he doesn't touch me or anything but that doesn't mean he cannot say anything to me... which is what angers me" He nods his head, turning on the lamp next to his computer, "Thanks"

"I wanted to see you while you're talking" He smiles, and you lightly blush once more, "Next time he says anything to you, why don't we put some tacks on his desk?" You giggle together, you can't help but stare at the way the corners of his mouth rise to make that cute smile appear, you like how discreet he was, lightly grazing your hand whenever he laughed, or how his eyes sweep down to gaze your body.

"I was wrong about you Al," You say, he drags his chair closer to you very slowly so you don't notice but you do, and you don't mind it, "You're the only interesting person in this office"

"Why is that? You're always laughing with Brian at the copier" You stare at him with a cheeky grin.

"Are you jealous or something?" You tease him, and he stutters into his words trying to fix his mistake.

"No, I just thought that... never mind" He looked away, taking another sip of the bottle, you grab the cigarette trapped in between his fingers, taking a drag and staring at him deeply.

"He's just a funny guy, there's nothin' much going on with me" His eyes light up, so after all, you weren't the only one who was concerned about him being single or not.

"I'm glad," He blurs out, making you both smile, "What is so interesting about me anyway?" You bit your bottom lip, taking a big sip from his bottle of whiskey, the liquor scratching your throat but it goes down easily once you sip on your coke.

"I mean, isn't it obvious?" You smile at him, starting to feel a bit dizzy, he takes a big chug of his bottle while you talk, "I just know that you don't say everything that you think, there's more to you"

"You're not far from the truth," He says nudging his head and leaning closer to you, resting his elbow on his desk next to your leg, you saw his face properly now, and he was a dream.

"Why? Is there something you want to say to me, Alex?" You teased leaning in closer to his face, your hand almost touching his, you could smell his cologne now, the space in between you two almost being none.

"I'm afraid there aren't enough words for that" He looks down to the slit in your shirt, your arm squeezing your tits together, he could see your black lace bra perfectly, he had this insatiable need for you, "But as you know already, I am not a man of many words, I take actions" His eyes looked down to your lips, licking his, already drooling to get a taste of your lips, until you suddenly pulled away, scratching the back of your head, "Wait, what happened?"

"If this is going to happen, we can't kiss"

"But..." There has to be a but always.

"I'm not gonna do it if we're gonna be awkward in the mornin'" You cross your arms sitting comfortably on the desk.

"I'm not like that," He says with a smile, but he sees your position and your limits, he just wanted a little bit of you, from the moment he saw you outside all by yourself under the moonlight with your beautiful eyes and lips smiling to him he knew he had to strip out of his costume and talk to you at that moment, he needed and wanted you now than anything, "If you don't want me to kiss you, can I at least touch you?" You bit your lower lip, sitting upright, his eyes only looking at you and not anywhere else begging you to say yes, he desires you with a big ache, you see it right in his eyes, just as transparent as glass.

"Yes.." He cups your cheeks and his face approaches yours, looking at you with lust, his lips peck the inner corner of your lips, traveling up to your earlobe, his fingers lightly playing with your hair, and his lips kissing your neck very gently at first, but then he licks his lips, kissing your neck with big wet kisses all over the place, sniffing every last bit of your perfume. He kicks away his chair, standing up to run his hands down your sides, unbuttoning your shirt gently, sneaking his hands to your bra, kneading your tits and squeezing them hard, you sigh and he breathes in your quiet moans and sighs like smoke, letting it consume him from the inside out.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful" He whispers into your ear, kissing the left side of your chest, where your heart is, you try to fight the urge to kiss him, but impatiently, he's in great need to show you real pleasure, to tear down your rules and let him taste your mouth, there was nothing he desired more in that moment.

You untuck your shirt, letting him enjoy the taste of your skin, and his hands feel your bare skin, his hair lightly tickling your neck, and you couldn't escape the need to run your hands thru his soft curls, lightly pulling on his hair as he lets your tits spill out from your bra, sucking on them and nibbling your nipples with his teeth, his tongue licking and his mouth sucking every inch of your skin, leaving red bruises on your chest so you don't forget who's been there the next morning.

He momentarily pulls away from you, his lips tearing off your skin like scar tissue on your knees, "What?-"

"You were right, love," He says, the look in his eyes sending shivers all over your body, "I haven't told you everything"

"What else have you got to say to me?" His hands slowly travel down to your legs, riding up your skirt until they unravel your black lace underwear.

"I've been watching you ever since you came here, every day, every time you felt exhausted and you stretch your back against the chair, I just want to make that go away... make you feel brand new... drop a note and tell you to meet me in the bathroom, and make you sigh out of pleasure and not from being tired, I only see you" His eyes dug in yours as he kneeled in front of you, "Maybe you think I'm quiet and dorky, but you don't even know for how long I've been thinking of you like this" His knuckles pull your soaking wet panties to the side, his eyes watching you as his fingers enter your body and his lips suck on your pussy harshly, slowly your orgasms started to get louder and louder each time his fingers rimmed your walls. Shamelessly he licks your pussy up, swallowing every ounce of the wetness that leaks out of you, "You're so fuckin' tight babe, taste so delicious"

"Fuck... please, don't stop!" You push his head in between your legs, starting to feel that ache getting bigger and bigger as he sucks right at the spot you needed hard, his fingers fuck your pussy faster, filling up that hole so well, more wetness rushes out from your legs, your end is yet to come, you feel it crawling up from your belly to your chest, starting to form in your throat as a scream until he takes his mouth off from your warmed up cunt, leaving you to breathless and needy for more.

He covers your mouth with his hand, sliding down his fingers covered in your arousal into your mouth, your lips sucking them hard until he makes you gag around them, pulling them out from your mouth with a string of saliva, "Can you be quiet for me?" He says it in such an easy way you're so amazed.

"Mhm," You bit your bottom lip.

"Tell me babe... are you gonna let me fuck you or are you just gonna pretend your pussy isn't drooling for some of it?" Your cheeky smile is no competition for him, he's certain you're in great need of more than just fingers and sucking.

You grab the buckle of his belt, undoing it very slowly, your hand palming his hard-on, you smiled as you felt the size and weight of his cock, biting your bottom lip as you take him out of his boxers and see him on the flesh. The tip of his cock leaked some wetness, he sighed as you give his veiny cock a few strokes, the tip of your thumb rubbing down his head, spreading it all over his cock. His hands cover your mouth pushing your head back and his tip rims your clit, lubing up his cock with your juices. You were trying to find a way to get more pleasure from him but the only way was right in front of you, "You know what to say babe... don't act like a dumb little cunt"

Your eyes lock in his, his lips a few inches close to yours, to kiss your lips, "Fuck me, Alex, please..." You bite your lower lip as the tip of his cock slides down tightly inside you, making you sigh. His fingers dig into your thighs, and you rock yourself against him, your elbow in the desk while the other holds Alex's shoulder tightly, his hand gripping the wall and the other one in your lower back. He rocks his hips against yours, fucking you slowly and passionately, the tip of your nose against his, he liked to watch your pupils dilate as he buries himself deep inside you.

"I loved leaving you just like that... soaked in all of your juices for me cock to slip inside you... God, you're so fuckin' wet for me... you fuckin' cock lovin' whore"

"Fuck you" You pant, "Fuck you Alex" You push your hips against his harder, his hands scattered in the back of your head, wrapping his arm around you, driving his cock in and out of you so hard, you were slowly losing yourself in his arms, enjoying how good he's fucking you.

"You love it," He says with a grin on his lips, his lips moaning against yours, grazing each other, laying one in another, but so far from being sealed together, that kept him on the verge, everything being strictly physical, the desire of wanting the feeling of your lips around his will bother him for the rest of the night.

Your tits bounce against his chest, sweat drips down from his forehead, and he's forcing himself to handle longer just for you to come on his cock so hard your whole body would feel light and high in the sky. You grip his shoulder tightly, holding yourself up with your hand, his fingers wrapped around your neck as he feels your pussy dragging him in, getting tighter with each stroke of his cock in your walls. His thumb went down in between your legs, rubbing your clit in tight little circles, forcing you to come, your abdomen pushing out your last cry of pleasure, and you choked out a little sigh of relief.

Alex was fast to pull out of you, you watch how his hand made a fist around his cock, and you didn't want him to finish like that. You willingly get down on your knees, and blow him thoroughly, "Jeeesus fuckin' christ... fuck!" He made a fist with your hair, "You want me to cum in your mouth, babe?" You hummed as a yes, sucking him harder as he drove your head back and forward. He drove his hips into your mouth, pushing your head until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat making you gag all over him, feeling him come inside your mouth in hot spurts at the feeling of your soft plump lips. You swallowed without him having to say it, "Mmm... fuuckin' hell, that was..."

"Really good," You said, he helped you get to up from the ground, holding hands and smiling at each other.

"You're ok? Your knees don't hurt or anything?" You giggled lightly, feeling a little strange about how much he cared for those little things.

"No, no, I'm alright" You turned to fix your blause, putting each button back on, and when you faced him back, you saw him staring at you with his big puppy eyes in awe, "What?"

"You've... um, your eye... I'll fix it" He grabbed the edge of his sleeve, he was wearing a basic white button-up shirt, denim jeans, and a belt. He cleaned the stain in your eye from the crying, and while you fixed your hair, he put everything in his desk back in order.

"Thank you, Al," You said with an honest smile, "I had fun"

"Sounds like a goodbye," He says with a fainted smile.

"No... it's not, I'll see you tomorrow, right?" He fakes a smile and says yes with his head, before you head out, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you in to give you a warm hug, you lean back to get a better look at him and say, "Sweet dreams, Al"

"You too" You break the hug, leaving the confused man with his big brain and questions all by himself.

When he drove to his apartment and laid down on his bed, he grabbed his phone, wanting to send you a message, but what type of message? You said you were ok, even said you had fun, but he was hooked. He was aching to know more about you, to know what you think. The rest of the night he kept looping around in his head every word he said to you, and everything you and him had done. He didn't want to sound so needy, but at least he wanted to talk to you.

The next day at the office when Alex sat on his chair, he smiled, vividly remembering what had happened the night before. But he knew something felt strange, he felt something was missing, this feeling was bittersweet, and you came right in through the door with your black low-waist pants, heels, and baby pink shirt with some buttons undone, he knew exactly what he needed to do.

There was a moment when everyone was working quietly in the cubicle, and he pushed himself up from his chair, walking through your cubicle he dropped a little purple post-it note at your desk.

"Break room"

That's all the letter said.

You put the note away in your purse, walking to meet him, you closed the door and he was waiting for you behind it.

"Hey," You said with a gentle smile.

"I- um" You sighed, thinking you knew well what he wanted to say. So, you cut him up before he did.

"Nothin' happened last night, you can forget about it... we had fun, let's leave it like that" But before you could escape him he pulled you back in by your wrist, making shivers run up your arms.

"No, I wasn't gonna-" He smiles very kindly to you, making you feel warm, "I just wanted to ask you out for dinner, tonight... if that's ok?" A little smile crawls from the corner of your mouth.

He liked how you looked with that little smile in the corner of your lips, that little blush creeping up your cheeks, "Yeah, yes"

You both smile at each other very shyly but happily, you nod your head and slowly take a step back but he leans in, his arm wrapping around your waist, "Now that we're sober... is the kissing policy revocable? or..." You break into laughter and take a step closer to him, he leans in and presses his lips against yours. You couldn't believe how just a simple little kiss on the lips could feel so electrifying, his lovely warm lips open to kiss you properly, he tasted the fresh cappuccino in your mouth with soft cinnamon in your breath, mixing with the taste of your lipstick. He tasted like black coffee and a cigarette bright and early in the morning, a mixture that makes one become an addict.

When you pulled back some blush creeps into your cheeks, "I'll see you later then..." You said.

"Last one before you leave" He pulled you in, giving you another soft kiss on your lips, biting down on your bottom lip before your lips tore apart.

A/N

I'll be posting more of your requests soon! I love you all, and I've taken some time to make the playlists fitted for the chapters, some will be longer than the others but I hope you enjoy them all.

[onlinedolly]

Pllsss hear me out- dad leon with a alt kid, they're socially awkward and don't have any friends- but it's okay, leon can be your friend, he's all you need after all! And his kiddo smokes weed, not being too bothered by it, it helps with your anxiety-

But he can't help but get hard when you smile up at him with hazey red eyes and a big toothy grin! Stuttering and mumbling over your words because your brain is just too fogged up, Your just too cute!

So when you were smoking the next time he saw you, you were watching a movie and he asks to join you, sitting behind you on the bed, only starting with a hand rubbing on your back as you both watch the movie- but every hit you take leon gets more and more touchy until eventually he pounding into you, holding your face into your bed until your both crying, you from overstimulation, and leon crying that he's sorry, he'll make it up to you, he always does! (*￣∇￣*)

ohhhhh anonnie i’m wet LOL!!!!

cw warning: drug use, incest, dd:dne, rough sex, noncon, loser perverted leon, rough leon

“feelin good, hm?” leon would ask as he climbs into your bed, stroking your hair as some movie, he doesn’t really care that much about, plays in the background. leon had always been a lax dad, you were a decent enough kid and you didn’t have many friends, meaning you didn’t go out much (which he was thrilled by), so you found yourself hanging out with your father more then anything.

yes, he was a cop and yes you smoked weed but he wasn’t going to tell, he’d promised when he first found out. if that’s the worst thing you’re doing, how could he really be that mad? besides, it made you so kind to your sweet father.

you nod your head as he runs his fingers through your hair, sinking next to you on the bed. you’re fixated on the movie but all he can do is look at you, he watches as you smoke in your joint, leaning into his touch as he keeps running his fingers through your hair. as you get more hazy and high he moves his hand to rub small circles on your back, moving around a bit as he feels his cock start to stiffen.

why was his cock getting hard? why was he thinking these thoughts? your father thought to himself, he’d noticed you before in your little dresses and pretty makeup, but he always pushed it to the back of his mind. but now? now he couldn’t resist, how would he? not when you were sprawled out on the bed for him, leaning against his touch as he runs circles in your back.

so your dad tests the water first, moving his hang to grip your waist pulling you closer to him, when he notices you don’t shift away from him moves his hang up and down on your hip, that getting your attention.

“what are you doing?” you asked, soft, hazy, n sweet.

“just trust me baby,” leon speaks back just as kindly as he moves his hand to hover over the front of your panties. this was it. the point of no return. how would you react? he thought. would you push him away, call him a pervert? god he kind of was a pervert, a terrible man. a disgusting man who can’t help himself as he ghosts his fingers over clothed cunt. you late out a hazy gasp, but not moving much as he sneaks his fingers into your panties.

“this okay, baby?” he speaks low, running a finger up your cunt teasingly. you shudder and look at him with glossy eyes.

“daddy i…dunno.” you speak earnestly, you talked like you didn’t want it but from how wet he could feel you getting he kept on, spreading your puffy cunt with two fingers.

you sink down into his touch, grabbing his wrist with a limp hold, “daddy this….” you gasp a bit as he rubs past your clit, “…this ain’t right.”

“i know babygirl, im so sorry.” leon speaks as he places a kiss to the top of your head, rubbing soft circles into your fat clit. he felt terrible about it, touching you like this, he was your fucking father and now he’s nothing more then just a perverted man touching his daughter. “daddy’s so sorry.”

the circling around you clit speeds up as he watches you let out soft moans underneath him, twitching. he replaced his fingers with his thumb on your clit we he tries to insert a singular finger in you. you gasp at the pain and he practically moans at how tight it is. once inside he gives you a second to adjust before thrusting his finger in and out of you listening to how your whines turn into deep moans.

“d-daddy—“ your broken voice calls out as he picks up the pace, “we should stop.” you plead, but leon sees right through your facade as you wiggle around in his touch moaning softly.

“i know baby, i know. daddy’s so sorry, daddy’ll getcha whatever you want after, okay? just—“ he picks up the pace, rubbing your clit hard as he fucks you with his fingers, “let daddy do this okay?”

you’re about to cum, you can feel the coil of heat inside you and it’s about to snap. when you do cum, it’s hard and you’re bucking against your fathers fingers. the sight alone could make leon cream himself, but he’s not done. no, not yet.

he gives you time to adjust from your orgasm before he’s pushing you into the bed, face in the pillow and ass propped up as you’re on all fours. he’s fumbling around anxiously now, anxious to feel your tight cunt suck in his cock, as he unbuckles his belt and hurriedly pulls down his jeans. you’re in nothing but a pretty nightgown and black lacy panties making you the easiest of access.

once leon has his cock out he strokes it, letting out a deep guttural groan at the sight of you. and then he’s pulling down your panties and you panic, sobering up the tiniest bit as you try to raise up, to no avail since leon has you pinned to the bed.

“daddy this really isn’t okay—“ he slaps your ass, sending your body forward and you whine out loudly.

“sorry daddy hit you baby, daddy’s so so sorry,” he leans his head back in ecstasy before hes lining himself up with you, pushing himself into your tight cunt. “just let daddy do this, please baby.” and god you feel like heaven. tighter then he thought and so wet and hot. it’s almost impossible to work himself into you as you cry and whimper and clench around him. but oh, does leon love a challenge. so he thrusts harder as he finally gets himself fully inside of you.

“daddy!” you yelp, sobbing into the pillow as your clit pulses at the delicious feeling of him ripping you open. and then he starts, a brutal pace, a downright mean pace. especially for fucking his daughter who he knew was a pretty little virgin. but he couldn’t help it, you felt so good when you clenched in pain around his cock as he thrust into you with such force it made your head bang against the head board.

he had your hair a ball in his fist as he pushed your face into the pillow, muffling your screams and soft moans as he tears you from the inside out. your cunt is dripping all over his cock, the bed, as you let out little pleads asking him to stop but he just can’t.

he brings his free hand to your nipples under your shirt, squeezing them harshly as he collapses his body on top of yours, biting roughly into your shoulder, “jesus fuck baby, feel so so good. daddy’s so sorry he can’t stop, your just—“ thrust “so fucking—” thrust “—tight” thrust. you’re a mess at this point, sobbing and drooling into the pillow as he continues his brutal pace.

once leon finally comes, it’s a lot, hot and it fills you so full you think your going to pass out. his hips stutter as he jerks against your body, cumming and growling loudly in your ear. you’re a mess of tears and snot as he pulls out of you, his soft demeanor returning as he places a kiss to the back of your head. “daddy’s so sorry baby, getcha whatever you want to make it right, please forgive me?” he’s tearful now, stroking the back of your head as you lay there limp and out of it. leon was a perverted terrible man.

[spoopydeboop]

Hello, and welcome to…

Pointless Palia Head-Cannons!

This is a segment where my hyper-focused and obsessive brain will shower you all with all of the pointless very important head-cannons I have about the MMO Palia and its many NPCs!

Today’s topic is:

Which Palia NPCs can sing well and which ones simply cannot carry a tune?

Now, in the words of the famous Italian plumber, “Here we go!” (List below the cut!)

NPCs are listed in alphabetical order.

• Ashura - Absolutely yes, but in a very deep, sea-shanty / Gaelic tune way. He’s not the most technically sound, but his voice is very gruff and soothing. Absolutely sang his son lullabies every night.

• Auni - No, I’m sorry. Convinced that he cannot carry a tune AT ALL but thinks he can. Sings loudly with zero inhibition whatsoever. Gotta give him credit there!

• Badruu - We know this man was in a traveling Bard group, so he’s musically inclined for sure. I feel like he would have been killer backup and filler vocals and he can harmonize beautifully.

• Caleri - Doesn’t believe in fun, jovial activities like singing. (Elouisa informs you later that her sister can in fact not carry a tune at all.)

• Chayne - Absolutely. He’s naturally musically inclined, but part of his spiritual training involved learning to lead chants and hymns. Bass level vocals, v soothing.

• Delaila - Not at all. Where do you think Auni gets it? Part of what entranced her about Badruu in the beginning was his musical abilities. She’ll still sing along with a group and put her all into it though!

• Einar - The concept of producing a vocal stimulation to create a pleasing melodic sound is lost to the robot. But if it’s your Oneness, he respects it.

• Elouisa - Cannot sing, but definitely played clarinet in high school and was first chair!

• Eshe - No way. Cruella de Vil type vibes. She definitely was classically trained on the piano, but doesn’t often exercise the skill.

• Hassain - Can absolutely carry a tune and harmonize well! Definitely low baritone or higher bass in range. Can harmonize with higher ranges very well!

• Hekla - Her Jina often sings to herself as she works, but the ability and desire to produce a series of melodies is not within her rune programming.

• Hodari - Not the biggest fan of singing, but has a decent voice that comes off pleasantly gruff and southern. I imagine if Pedro Pascal’s ‘Joel’ from The Last of Us sang a slower, more reserved tune. (My other example was the dad cow from Back at the Barnyard that sings “I Won’t Back Down”… Let me know if that woulda been better or worse.)

• Jel - Definitely took vocal lessons with his sisters. Has a very pleasant and airy singing voice that is very technically sound.

• Jina - Doesn’t really sing much except for to herself. Massive stage fright on this one! Hekla says that her Jina seems happy when she sings, and that’s what matters.

• Kenji - Honestly? 100%, yes. Maybe like a broadway or an operatic voice. Doesn’t sing much but I imagine it would sound really jolly if he was a jollier guy.

• Kenyatta - YES! Doesn’t sing because she thinks it’s ‘lame’ (she gives me massive ‘too cool for school’ vibes) but has a delightful and powerful singing voice (kinda like the wolf Porsha Crystal played by Halsey in Sing 2.)

• Nai’O - Yes absolutely. Got his talent from his dad! He’s very shy when put on the spot though, so he doesn’t sing in front of people often — mostly when he works in the field with his animals by himself.

• Najuma - Not at all! But it’s okay because Najuma has zero desire to, haha. Kid is happy to be tinkering!

• Reth - On god, YES. Man has a beautiful and casual singing voice with a little rasp around the edges. Sings to himself while he cooks or gets really focused on something. I’m thinking “Feelin’ Good” by Michael Bublé, but maybe bit more rough around the edges.

• Sifuu - Not much of a singer, but I know our Muscle Mommy definitely has a few war chants or something up her sleeve! Lady can keep a beat for sure.

• Tamala - Thinks she can, but makes it way too sultry. You heard me. There’s such a thing as too much!

• Tish - Yes! Absolutely. She seems like she would 100% have like a Mandy Moore or Kristen Bell vibe. Very Disney Princess-esque!

• Zeki - Okay, honestly I think yes — but not in a conventional way. Kind of like Ashura; I think he would be great at singing like traditional Grimalkin shanties or folk-songs. Not very practiced, but he’s got spirit!

OKAY FINALLY DONE! I plan to do a lot more of these! Let me know if you have any suggestions!

[monowritestoomuch]

YuuriVoice Characters Reacting To You Having A Tic Spasm/Tic Attack:

Notes: 

I wish there were VA’s doing tic attack comfort audios, but I can never find any :(

I lowkey forgot what Faust calls his listener so someone please let me know in comments or reblogs. Also made a masterlist!

I wrote this because I actually want decent representation for tics in the modern day but sadly Hollywood sucks so might as well do it myself, as someone with tics. This took a really long time! If you have any questions, feel free to ask in the comments or reblogs!

And if you’re bald, I formally apologize.

Also, I’ve been super busy with a cosplay so this would’ve been done sooner but I’ve been busy so sue me. If I mix tenses, I tried, okay? Enjoy this as my ability to write and post is about to go down the drain.

Alphonse🍬:

Tic Spasm & Large Scale Tic Attack

You were laying on your bed in the morning, having just woken up. You were groggy and stiff. That’s all you thought you were. Stiff.

Alphonse lay by your side, sleeping soundly. He seemed to be so peaceful while he slept, a gentle smile creeping onto your face as you looked at his beautiful own, bathed in the morning light. 

You try to sit up, which would have been easy. Simple and easy, if it was a normal morning. 

You feel your muscles convulse and stiffen, panic overcoming you. You fall back on your mattress, head hitting your pillow. You start to shake as your tics overcome your body, vision blurring. Your neck started to twitch and snap in multiple directions, as your back froze up, shaking. 

You felt movement beside you, and a hand on your bicep, shaking you lightly. You could slightly hear a voice, but your hearing was going in and out, eyes shaking side to side and up and down. 

Your vision hazed back in as you turned your head to face. . .your loving boyfriend, brows knitted with a concerned expression on his face. 

“Hey, hey, Boo,” he said softly, cradling your arm. “You can hear me now, right? Yeah, yeah?” To that, you nodded. 

“The ticking thing you told me about? Tourette's? Tic spasm, right?” he asked, lips downturned as you attempted to nod before your neck snapped in the other direction. “Okay, okay. I get it you can’t really talk right now, so just try and breathe, like you usually do,” he attempted to reassure. “Deep breaths, okay. Here, I’ll breathe with you, okay?” 

The two of you took deep breaths, yours much shakier than his own as your body slowly stopped ticcing and shaking. Once it stopped completely, he spoke up again. 

“You feelin’ better, Boo?” he asked, an empathetic expression on his face. “Can I hug you?” he asked after you nodded in response to the previous question. He wrapped you in his arms, his lips in your hair, kissing the top of your head as he cradled you.

Seth🐺:

Collapsing/Wooziness with tic attacks (Cuddle comforting)

It was a normal day at your house, unpacking some old boxes with Seth’s help, which you very much appreciated. The two of you had cleared out so many boxes within the past few hours and it was going smoothly. 

That was until you started to feel a little woozy.

You’d had a slight headache for an hour at that point, and because it was dull, you didn’t think much of it when it started, but it only became worse.

A chill crawled up your spine as you picked up the next cardboard box, Seth carrying two boxes to the opposite side of the room.

Your head was swimming and your back was tingling. Your chest felt heavy. You shakily set down the box, although the weight wasn’t heavy, you felt yourself shaking. You felt slightly lighter when you put it down, deciding to sit down on the floor, resting your head against the wall, the coolness feeling like heaven on your forehead. 

Your head was still spinning as Seth slowly walked over, kneeling in front of you and looking you in the eyes as you twitched, head spinning. You looked up to face him, a pained expression on your face, seeing a concerned expression on his. 

“You okay, Sugar?” he asked, concern etching his features. You nodded absentmindedly, humming in response. 

“‘m ‘bit dizzy,” you muttered dizzily. “-felt like collapsing.”

Seth nodded, still evidently concerned. “You want me to get you some water?” he asked. 

“Mhm,” you hummed. He kissed your brow, leaving the room briefly, before returning a few minutes later with a cup of ice water.

He held it in front of you, handing it to you, your hands shaking as you held the glass up to your lips. He held his hands under the glass, just in case you dropped it. “Sip slowly,” he ordered, not sounding like much of an order, but more of an educated ask. 

You drank the water in gulps, the coolness of it a pleasant relief on your headache and chest. 

You had but a moment to set down the glass before your body started shaking harder and you forced yourself to swallow the last gulp of water before you started twitching uncontrollably. 

Seth backed up a foot, deciding to give you some space, as he knew you hated to be cramped.

He held his hands in your own, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of your hands. You didn’t understand why, but it helped, your ticcing calming down, albeit only slightly. 

He sat next to you, you placing your head on his shoulder as your shaking continued, legs outstretched. 

Once the shaking slowed and your breathing returned to a semi-normal state, he started to rub your back slowly, pressing a kiss into your hair. His hands were big and warm, a feeling of calmness washing over you.

“You feel a bit better now, Sugar?” he asked, concern still evident in his face. 

“Yeah,” you responded, speech still slightly slurred. “Less dizzy.”

“Good,” he answered, wrapping his arms around you, as if to both comfort you and himself. “I want you to be safe and happy, and I wish I could fix this whole thing and make it go away for you, but I can’t and I’m sorry,” he apologized. 

“It’s not your fault,” you responded almost instantly. “I’ve had this for a long time now, I know how to work around it, it just sometimes gets the better of me and–” you pause. “-sometimes I need to rest in someone’s big, strong arms,” you attempt to joke. 

Seth doesn’t laugh, but a small, gentle smile appears on his face. He kisses you on the cheek, laying down with you on the hardwood floor and cuddling with you until you felt well enough to stand up again.

Auron🩸:

Vocal and physical tic attack

Auron had been wondering where you were, as you weren’t in your cubicle in the law department and your co-workers had reported to have not seen you for over an hour, which concerned him. 

He walked past the breakroom, seeing you inside, shaking on one of the chairs. He could hear your rapid breathing and could see the panicked expression in your eyes. 

Your left hand was over your chest, your left hand practically tearing your hair out. Your pupils were blown wide and you were twitching every few seconds. 

You knew it got bad, but never this bad.

Auron sped into the breakroom, and right up to where you sat. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, hands in front of him, unsure whether he should touch you.

“T-wooooo-t-tic attack–” you attempt to say, stuttering and ticcing between words. “-’m sorry boss, I’ll get back to work soon, I just ‘ave to–”

“No, absolutely not,” he interrupted, shutting you down. “You are shaking, Rook,” he started. “And you can barely speak.”

Your cheeks turned red with embarrassment as you looked down, still shaking. 

He sighed. “You said that it would be this bad during the interview, and on your file, but-” he paused. “-I didn’t think it would hurt you.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” You responded quickly, fist waving wildly around you, trying to be cautious as to not hit your boss. “Just,” you pause, your voice cracking as you repeat the word. “-tense, just tense.”

Auron frowned at you, seemingly not believing in your explanations. “You’re panicking too, you know.”

You had noticed your breathing speeding up and becoming rapid and inconsistent.

“Sorry,” you apologized. Auron’s frown deepened. 

“Would you,” he paused, not knowing if it would help, or if it would make your ticcing worse. “Can I hug you?” he blurted out, eyes looking anywhere but yours. 

Your back was tense as you remembered how nice his hands felt when you two would spend nights together. Although he seemed tough, his large, warm hands would rub your back, sending you to a realm of comfort and sleepiness.

You thought for a moment before attempting a nod before your neck snapped in the other direction, continuing to twitch. 

He sat in the chair beside you, wrapping his muscular arms around you, his hands on your back, tracing shapes into it.

You were sent into a sense of calmness, his tracing feeling familiar and comfortable in the background of the rain pattering on the windows outside. 

You were still shaking, but the warmth that spread across your body relaxed you, lessening the flinching and twitching until you were barely shaking at all. 

Once your breathing was regular, Auron stopped tracing the shapes on your back, retracting his hands to his pockets. 

“Are you,” he stopped, taking a breath before he spoke again. “Do you feel better? And don’t spout apologies–you don’t have to apologize for this.”

You nodded, not feeling like talking anymore.

“Don’t worry,” he started, standing up. “Leave early today, don’t worry about the work, deadline extended,” he said, walking to the door, stopping as he opened it, a foot out the door. “If-if you ever need someone–just to talk to about this, come find me in my office.”

You silently thanked him, a slight smile on your face, as he walked out of the door. He seemed stoic, but underneath you knew, he cared. He cared about you.

Faust🥏:

Tic attack (+regular panicking)

“Hey,” Faust started, entering your streaming room. “You ended the stream abruptly, what the hell happe–oh shit.”

What he saw was you, lying on your back on your fluffy rug, shaking and twitching. Your head was twitching backwards every few seconds, hitting the fluffy rug, which didn’t help much as it was thin and the floors were hardwood. 

“So this is why you abruptly ended the stream,” he realized aloud, watching as you shook and flinched. 

You could barely talk, your hearing blurring in and out through your aching head. Tears streaked down your face, warm, salty and unending. 

Faust didn’t know how to help you, panic settling in his veins as your condition only got worse. 

The back of your head kept hitting the rug, the underlying floor giving you a headache. You could feel your arms moving without your brain telling them to, going in several different directions, freezing in the middle of the air for a minute before twitching back down at your sides.

“What-what do I do?” Faust asked, clearly more panicked than you were. You could tell he was on the edge of a minor panic attack with how he was acting. He seemed to be panicking about this whole thing even more than you were.

“I–” You try to say, repeating the vowel several times over due to your ticcing. “J-just a tic attack, ‘m gonna be fine–woooooo-” you pause, shaking terribly. “-just give me a-a minute-”

“Fuck! Should I call a doctor?” he shouted, pacing the room. “Should I call my brother, he might know what to do–no, no he wouldn’t even answer his phone!” You hear him ramble. He opens his phone, seemingly googling something. 

“How–no, what to do when your friend has a tic attack?” he mutters, typing the words into the search box on his phone. “Remain calm, don’t draw attention to it, and simply offer quiet support–do you want a hug or a shoulder pat or something?”

You smile at his attempt of assistance warmly. “Could I have the Disney themed w-woooo-weighted blanket?” You ask in-between tics.

“Ye-yeah, of course,” he responds, running out of the room for a moment before running back in and draping the Winnie the Pooh weighted blanket over your body, the weight helping with the tics.

Faust plops himself into a criss-cross-apple-sauce on the fluffy rug, eyes watching you intently as your ticcing calmed down. He sat beside you, hands in his lap until your ticcing stopped, making sure you were okay after and writing down a note to do some research on tics in the near future. 

Charlie🍕:

Zoning out, shaking and minor tics

“Hey Casp’, I’m back from my shift!” he shouted through the apartment, which was unusually silent. “Casper?” he called out, walking further into the apartment. 

He found you trying to make dinner in the kitchen, shaking and twitching as you held onto the dark-toned counters, eyes unfocused. 

He ran over to you, gently taking your forearms in his hands, feeling your arms shake. He walked you down to the couch to sit, your eyes still unfocused. 

Your hearing blurred, as did your vision. You could hear Charlie talking to you about something, seemingly ranting, as he held your shaking arms in his hands. Your eyes were unfocused, eyes facing a wall with a painting on it. 

As your vision blurred back in, you could see the painting clearer. It was one of the few that you’d brought when you moved in with Charlie. A sailboat amongst a calm water city port, several boats around it and in the distance of the painting, clouds gathering overhead. Some of the tiny people in the painting were waving, others sailing and others moving objects in the painting. But the big sailboat in the middle of the painting was the focal point. A woman, dressed in a Dolly Varden dress and a pirate captain’s hat stood sailing it, her long red hair blowing in what seemed to be a breeze, a wide smile on her face, eyes squinted. 

Focusing on the painting had cleared your mind a bit, allowing you to focus more. You remembered why you’d bought it. You’d bought it at a garage sale in your hometown, before you had moved to the city, finding it stunningly beautiful. It reminded you of life in a sort of way, beautiful and peaceful for but a moment. The approaching clouds symbolized the things that could go wrong, or would go wrong. The duality of life and man. The Approaching Storm, it was named. You’d been attached to the painting ever since, not understanding why, but just feeling like it was important enough to garner your spirit.

Your eyes focused, turning your head to face Charlie, who was facing you, concerned, until you faced him. 

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey,” he responded, looking at you warmly. “You feel any better?”

“Yeah,” you answered, tired. “I forgot to take my meds yesterday, and this happ-happened, sorry–”

“Don’t apologize, you can’t control these things sometimes,” he told you, drawing you into a hug. “I’ll make sure you take your meds tonight–and for the rest of the week if you need it?”

You nodded, smiling as you hugged him back, warmth pooling in your chest. 

“Wanna watch movies and eat the leftover Chinese food in the fridge?” he asked, a cheeky smile appearing on his face. 

“I th-thought you’d never ask,” You responded as he stood up from the couch, wrapping a fluffy blanket over you and going over to the kitchen and opening the fridge, grabbing a few containers and bringing them over to the coffee table as you turned on Deadpool.

Lucien😈:

Collapsing(minor), tic attack, absence of medication

“Human–I mean Angel! I’ve brought back some of that human food you like! I think you called it pizza? I got you the one with the cheesy crust, and the cheesy breadsticks!” Lucien called out into your apartment, smiling widely as he carried two boxes, one big pizza box and one smaller box, filled to the brim with cheesy breadsticks.

When he received no response, he called out again. “Angel?” 

Lucien walked around the apartment calling your name, until he found you collapsed on your bedroom floor. “Angel!” he shouted, rushing over to your shaking body, the boxes of food making a ‘thud’ sound as they hit the floor. 

“‘m fine Lucien,” You say, voice raspy and dry. 

“Like hell you are!” he exclaims, his face a cross between angry and concerned. “I know for a fact this is not normal human behavior! Humans don’t just collapse!” he shouted,  his voice ringing through the apartment, and your head. 

He was so loud, and your head was throbbing in your skull. 

“I ran out of meds, Luci–” You interrupted quietly, your voice slightly above a whisper. “-’nd I can’t get any more for another week, when I get my paycheck–” You continued, feeling drowsy. 

“Human medicine should be free,” he huffs. “We have free medication in Hell.”

How is Hell’s medicare system somehow better than the medicare system on Earth? You wondered. 

“We agr–wahhhh–we agree on th-that,” You say in-between tics, your body shaking. You felt colder since Fall was rolling in and you never had a good personal storage of body heat. You thought that might’ve been something that triggered a tic attack besides the absence of your meds.

“I’ve-I’ve lived with-without my meds before, Lucien,” You tell him, eyes blinking slowly as you felt exhaustion seeping into your bones. “I’ll survive without th-them for a we–eeee-ek,” You finish in-between tics, giving him a tired smile, as if to tell him not to worry. 

“But that’s not fair, that’s not how it should be,” Lucien huffed, furrowing his dark eyebrows. 

“Y-you and be both agree on that, buddy,” you laugh. “B-but sadly, life ain’t that w-wahhh-aay.”

“What can I do to help?” he asked, still hovering over you, concerned. 

You still felt practically freezing, shaking not only from the tics, but from the lack of body heat

“I am freezing,” You start, rubbing your hands together. “-and you are like a stove, Dear Luci,” you continue. 

“Human cuddles then?” he inquired, ignoring the ‘Dear Luci’ comment. You nodded as he scooped you up into his big, hairy, muscly, red arms. He carried you to the living room couch, cuddling you against his chest. 

He sat down on the couch with you on top of him, cuddled into his warm chest. He threw a blanket over the two of you, placing your head in the crook of his neck. He kissed your forehead, smiling into your hair as you drifted off to a well deserved sleep.

(CC: God, I love cheesy breadsticks dipped in garlic sauce. My favorite Pizza order is that, but with extra cheese. . .lmao pizza FORGOTTEN)

Finn🌻:

Collapsing and minor tics (Severe Tourette’s)

“Welcome to Talk Floral! What can I help you with toda–oh it’s you Sunflower!” he exclaims, originally thinking it was any old customer who walked into the shop, before realizing it was you. “It’s–it’s good to see you! Do you need an arrangement?”

You shook your head. “No, I just wanted to see my favorite florist!” 

“I’m your favorite florist?” he repeated, baffled. “You know other florists–wait, I’m the only florist you know!”

“My favorite is the one I know,” You say, giggling. “He’s also my amazing boyfriend,” You teased. He laughed and grinned, blushing.

“So what’d you come fo–” Finn started to ask. 

That was when your hearing tuned out, your vision becoming blurry. You feel your legs shake as you hold onto the table at the front of the store. You hear a voice becoming eerily closer to you. A blob of yellow and green appeared in front of you just as your legs gave way, causing you to collapse in someone’s arms.

You feel yourself shaking, your vision unfocused. You felt your head being laid in someone’s lap. 

“-ey, hey! You okay Sunflower–oh sorry, clearly you're not okay–I’m so sorry for asking-” You heard your boyfriend, Finn say, running a hand through his hair. “What do you need? I can get you something? I can get some of the candy from the back–or I can just stay here, with you–” 

“I’m–eeeeee-I’m good Finney,” You start, in-between tics. “Love, it-it’s just a bad tic day. J-just a bad day, Finn. I-I’ll be fine–”

“You’re not fine!” he shouted, raising his voice and his shoulders. “Sorry for yelling, Sunflower,” he apologized. “I’m just worried for you, a-and for your wellbeing, be-because I care for you, because I love you.”

“I-I love you too, Finney,” You responded, smiling as your vision returned. “I guess, if-if it’s not a bother, *hic* could you get me some candy from the back–and th-then– *heee* hug me?” 

Finn smiled sweetly, pressing a kiss into your hair and standing up. “I’ll be right back, I promise,” he said, walking to the back and then back out with a bag of sour patch kids. 

“Here, have some,” he told you, propping your head up on his lap and putting a few watermelon sour patch kids in your mouth. You chewed them slowly and swallowed them, feeling a slight rush of energy to stave the growing exhaustion.

Once you did, he picked you up bridal style and led you to the back, gently placing you on the couch before snuggling in beside you and kissing your forehead. 

Your vision was slowly returning, as was your hearing while Finn cuddled you putting his head in the crook of your neck and smiling into the nape of your neck. 

“Love you,” You whispered to him, wrapping your shaking arms around his body. 

“I love you too, My Sunflower,” he told you admiringly, pressing one final kiss to your forehead before you two fell asleep in each others arms

Taglist: (None yet, let me know if you’d like to be added.) =)

[toujokaname]

An Unfamiliar Sight (HiMERU Idol Story)

Author: Kanata Haruka

Characters: Rinne, Niki, Kohaku, HiMERU

"—HiMERU also feels restless in his school uniform, you know."

Season: Winter Location: Lounge in TV Station

Rinne: Hiya~ I got to the dressing room earlier than expected, huuh.

I've turned into a respectable member of society ♪

Niki: What're you talking about, Rinne-kun. A respectable member of society doesn't typically stroll into the dressing room right at the last minute.

Uh, wait? Is Kohaku-chan the only one here?

Rinne: Ain't it weird that Merumeru's runnin' late? Did he get a stomachache or somethin'?

Kohaku: Haah. You both just go at yer own pace as always. Didn't y'all see HiMERU-han's message?

HiMERU-han mentioned there were some procedures at Shuuetsu Academy he couldn't miss, so he'll be late.

Rinne: Academy? Oh, yeah, Merumeru's still a student.

Any way you look at it, he doesn't look like a student at all, so I totally forgot.

Niki: I completely forgot about it too. So HiMERU-kun's an earnest student, huh~

But, you know, it's kinda mysterious. I feel like I've never seen HiMERU-kun in his school uniform.

Even though we've already spent a bunch of time together?

Kohaku: Yeah, that's right. When Crazy:B got thrown into the same room, he and I both took a temporary absence from school.

He returned to school after movin' into the Seisoukan dorms, so we haven't had a straightforward chance to see it, y'know?

Rinne: Gotcha. Well, I guess Merumeru ain't tryna hide it either.

In that case, wouldn't it be interesting to see Merumeru in his uniform at least once?

HiMERU: —What about HiMERU's uniform?

Rinne: Oh, speak of the devil ♪ Hey, Merumeru. You're wearing your uniform this... time...

HiMERU: Apologies for the delay in getting here. HiMERU will get ready quickly.

Rinne & Kohaku: .........

HiMERU: Amagi, Oukawa, what's the matter? You look quite dumbfounded.

Rinne: Gyahahahahaha! Hey, hey, ain't that a bit too much, Merumeru?!

HiMERU: What is it with you laughing all of a sudden, Amagi?

Niki: Woah~ It's my first time seeing HiMERU-kun in his school uniform.

Yup, yup, I see. So it feels like that~ It's kinda refreshing.

HiMERU: —Right. Now that Shiina has said that, HiMERU gets the gist of it.

However, he finds it upsetting to be laughed at to this extent.

Kohaku: No, sorry, HiMERU-han... It ain't like I'm burstin' out laughin' like Rinne-han, but....

Seein' HiMERU-han in an unfamiliar outfit, I was at a loss for words to describe this strange feelin'...

Rinne: No matter how I look at it, you look like a cosplayer! For real, my stomach hurts! Gyahahahaha!

HiMERU: (...Is it really enough to warrant saying that?)

Rinne: Hey, hey, don't make that face, Merumeru.

I've never seen ya look like a proper highschooler before, so I just burst out laughing.

Kohaku: My bad, HiMERU-han. I'm in the same boat as Rinne-han.

There's a saying of "the clothes make the man", but in yer case, it's the opposite.

The uniform can't compete with yer mature atmosphere.

HiMERU: —Amagi, Oukawa, there's no need to force yourselves to keep talking.

It seems like you are desperately trying to patch it up, but the conclusion remains the same.

From now on, no matter how much of a hurry he's in, HiMERU will make sure not to come to work still in uniform.

Rinne: Don't get so pouty, Merumeru. It was my bad.

See, I never really went to school properly.

So it's prolly the norm for highschoolers like Merumeru to exist, yeah?

Niki: Well, besides HiMERU-kun, none of us are really attending school properly. Even I only graduated middle school.

Kohaku: I'm also just startin' to get back into school.

If you think 'bout it that way, the only one here who's leadin' a decent student life's HiMERU-han.

I wonder what kinda highschool life yer leadin'. I'm curious now...

HiMERU: —HiMERU can confidently say it hasn't been the youth that Oukawa is expecting.

Rinne: But, actually, you're havin' an exquisite time at school, ain'tcha?

Accordin' to our deputy director, Shuuetsu's a place with a well-established employee benefits system.

HiMERU: HiMERU hardly makes use of it. Naturally, HiMERU prioritizes idol activities.

—Ah, but some of the services available at Shuuetsu may indeed be described as "exquisite".

Kohaku: Oh~ If HiMERU-han says so, then they must be real good.

What the heck are they? I wanna know for reference.

HiMERU: Although it may have sounded grandiose, it's not such a big deal.

It is only a ryoutei—that is to say, a high class traditional restaurant. You can enjoy delicious dishes with well-balanced nutrition.

Niki: Please wait a second!

A ryoutei?! There's a place like that at Shuuetsu Academy?!

HiMERU: Yes, it seems that it is managed by the same affiliate company as CosPro.

A dedicated chef and nutritionist are assigned to each idol to provide the optimal menus.

It is reasonably inexpensive for students, so it has been helpful for HiMERU to utilize it several times when he eats meals.

Niki: ...I see. There's such a heavenly place in Shuuetsu, is there.

I've decided. I'm gonna transfer to Shuuetsu Academy! And I'll eat a bunch of food at the ryoutei!

Kohaku: That's a lousy motive, Niki-han...

Rinne: To begin with, Niki's a middle school graduate. You gotta start from the beginning, not as a transfer!

You'll be a first year in highschool and it'll just be too tough, so forget it, forget it.

You'd be better off securing your future by becoming my housewife and getting a permanent job at my place.

Niki: I hate that, I don't wanna be taken away by Rinne-kun for my whole life!

Please, HiMERU-kun! I don't like being pushy, but I wanna go to Shuuetsu's ryoutei too!

HiMERU: —HiMERU can't do anything about it single-handedly.

However, Shuuetsu Academy is a school for outstanding idols.

If Shiina can demonstrate exceptional talent as an idol, perhaps...

Niki: Are you for realsies?! You must be!

HiMERU: —Provided that you can demonstrate your ability. In that sense, this upcoming recording may be just the right chance for you.

Niki: Alriiight! Once it's decided like that, I'll get to work right away!

Rinne-kun and Kohaku-chan, we're going all out today!

The taste of ryoutei is waiting for me!

Kohaku: Niki-han really is a guy who only cares 'bout his stomach...

Rinne: ...Nice job baiting Niki, Merumeru.

But I won't take the blame for whatever happens later, aight?

HiMERU: —HiMERU understands that. That is why he didn't confirm anything either.

In the worst case scenario, he will take out a meal from the ryoutei and bring it back to the dormitory. It's humiliating, so he'd rather not, if possible.

Now, let's put an end to the chitchat. There's not much time left for the recording, so let's get ready quickly.

—HiMERU also feels restless in his school uniform, you know.

Note: About the housewife line... Yeah I don't know man. What it says on the tin. The page just talks about how women getting married used to be referred to as a permanent job, which is what Rinne says Niki should get with him.