#itchy twitchy sneezes

[dsnzfb]

You've Maid My Day

Cactus/Rose, allergies, M/M, ~1.5k

After a long week of work, Cactus has a surprise for Rose.

“Rose, check it out! Tada!!”

Stood proudly in front of his work, a currently dress-clad Cactus motioned at the completely clean living room. Sweat was dripping down his forehead from the effort, though he did not care in the slightest. 

“What- what is this, Cactus? Did you do the spring cleaning?” Rose stared on in awe, hanging up his coat quickly and jogging into the flat proper.

Cactus laughed, a wide and sharp grin gracing his features, “Sure did! Weather was nice, you were at work, I had the day off… The perfect storm!”

Rose was stunned, unable to stop staring at his boyfriend’s handiwork.

“You did all of it…? You didn’t have to do that! I could have helped!”

The shorter man shook his head with a smirk.

“I only got the one maid dress.”

The florist finally paid full attention to Cactus, taking in his figure. He wasn’t sure whether to blush, laugh, or both. It fit him surprisingly well! Showed off his legs, his arms, and the cute patches of vitiligo on them that he didn’t often get to see. Ooh, his neck, too, if he peeked past the frilly choker.

“I suppose you’re not wrong.” He smiled, leaning in and giving him a soft kiss, lips barely grazing, “But to do all this by yourself… You do too much for me. You’re adorable.”

“H-Hehe… You have no idea how much of a pain-in-the-ass it was! I mean, it was my own fault, check out what I used!” Cactus giggled, pulling out from behind him his chosen instrument, wielding it with the pride of a kid who just found a big stick.

An almost cartoonish feather duster. Rose’s nose scrunched up just seeing it. He did the whole place with that? God- he could see the dust clouding off it with each movement.

“W-Why?” He sniffed reflexively, regretting his action immediately as the itch in his nose started to blossom, “Why not use a… I don’t know, a damp cloth? A regular duster?” Oh god, his eyes were starting to itch.

“Huh? I mean, this is like… It’s the image, y’know? Even if nobody was here ta see it, I gotta commit. It’s pretty cute, right?” 

Rose snorted, his laughter only serving to make him breathe in more irritants, “Oh my god, you… Haha! That’s typical of you, I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything elhhh-!”

Cactus blinked. He broke out of his excited haze and paid attention to how Rose was looking. That hitch sounded needy, almost desperate. His eyes were starting to look glassy and twitchy, and irritated tears began swelling. His nose looked just as tickly as Rose hitched, and hitched, and… Stopped. Why did he stop? Wouldn’t it feel better to let himself sneeze?

‘I can’t… Not while he’s watching me like that… He worked so hard, and for what? For me to have a stupid bloody allergy attack?’

“You okay? You look itchy, did something happen? Don’t tell me you walked home through the dog park again…”

“Nn… Nuh… No… Not today…” Rose scrubbed at his nose, a harsh sniff accompanying the motion. He realised belatedly that he could have lied, and pinned the blame on literally anything but the soft, fluffy, and dust-filled instrument in his boyfriend’s hand.

Cactus stood on tiptoes and leaned in closer, a large hand cupping Rose’s cheek and their foreheads touching, “Comin’ down with another cold?” 

Shaking his head in a way that didn’t convince Cactus at all, Rose pulled away from him in panic. 

“I’m f-fi-ii-HHhtSH!! IhtSHH! t’shhHiiiu!! Hhah-eh-… Aahe-ttShHiew!! Pt’sshuu-iis-sshiew!! Gghwaah… I’b fide.”

“Yuh huh, yeah, ‘fide’ indeed.” Cactus placed his hands on his hips, the offending item shaking out more dust at being disturbed. 

“Just… Sobethi’g id the air.” Rose sniffled again, annoyed at his body for reacting so quickly to the dust and making a mess of himself. God. Cactus could do so much better than him. He’s so handsome. So manly. So cute. Domestic househusband. Soft and cuddleable. Stupid. Perfect. 

While Rose’s thoughts ran away with him, Cactus looked on in confusion. He was staring again, with that dumb gay smile on his face. Cac never quite understood what Rose saw in him, but it definitely wasn’t what *he* saw in the mirror. Well, he wouldn’t complain! If Rose saw something he liked, who was he to deny that? Cactus decided to do something about Rose’s current predicament, since the florist was distracted. He lifted the feather duster to his boyfriend’s face and waved it gently under his freckled nose, watching the soft barbs brush pinkened nostrils and dust waft up in plumes.

“G-Ggh-aagh!! C-Cactus, what are you doing?!” Rose smashed a cupped hand over his nose, though it was far too late. 

“I’m helpin’. You looked real tickly.”

“H-Helping? It’s that thing that’s made this happen in the first place!!” He shrieked, “Ah- oops.” 

Rose turned beet red, a second hand coming up to cover a cheek. He didn’t mean to snap, nor did he mean to admit the course of his nasal troubles. He just… He got so embarrassed when sneezing in front of him.

Cactus gave him a smirk, pulling the feather duster away.

“Ohhh, I get it. I forget that you’re allergic to dust sometimes. Hah, my bad! You know, though? It’s pretty cute. Your face under here…” He pulled at Rose’s hands, prying them from his face to reveal a running, twitchy nose, “Your expression is way adorable. Hehe, you gotta sneeze real bad, dontcha? Remember what I taught you?”

‘Remember? Remember? What you taught me is engraved in my mind and will never leave, thank you very much!’ Rose could still hardly believe what Cactus had done for him – he’d induced using a pointed tissue right in front of him, just to prove a point about how ‘hard’ a sneeze should be! How did he learn that?! Rose’d nearly died on the spot, fairly sure steam literally rose from his head from how much he was blushing at the time.

That, and now this? Cactus had never said it outright, and he wouldn’t be able to pull an admission from Rose’s dead corpse, but… Surely, this meant something? He knew about his… Affinity? This isn’t the sort of thing a normal person would do for another normal person.

Though, that does assume that they’re both normal.

“C-Cactus, let go. Let me… Let…” Rose struggled, “I h-have to…”

“Then do it.”

Rose’s cheeks burned hot in embarrassment, what made Cac think he could just sneeze? Let them out? On him?!

“N-no, I… I can’t just- i-iih- h-haa-aah-!!” 

“C’moooon, you can do it. I believe in you,” The shorter man didn’t let his hands go, pulling closer while teasing him, “So… You understand what to do, mmm? Take a deep breath in, let your allergies overtake you, let it fill you… All that dust I swept up is bothering you, so it’s time to get it all out.” 

Rose’s eye was twitching, nose scrunching. Even the clear mess dripping down his philtrum was torturing him, and Cactus just. Wouldn’t. Move.

He let out a strangled whimper, allergic tears making his vision swim. It wasn’t long before the intense tickle forced his eyes closed, and the tears fell down his cheeks.

“I… I… Ah–… H-hah… Hhih– C-Caaaac, m-move… I’m g-going… To…”

“Not movin’.” 

Stubborn arse.

“Hh– Iigh– n-no… I… IIghHTt-!! GgsSHh! GGshTTt!!” the attempted stifles sounded pathetic, honestly, even to himself. He heard Cactus laughing; a soft chuckle, and one that made Rose’s cheeks burn bright red.

“Bless you, baby. Come on, I know you got more in ya. You can do it. You don’t gotta hold back just for lil’ old me.”

“Hh-hhaAAah..!! Oh my god, Cac, you’re e-evil…!” Rose whined, glasses even steaming up from how embarrassed he was, “...Nnn… this is… torture.” 

The red-haired man groaned, rolling his eyes. “Your ‘help’ so far h-hhaahs been a touch dubious, to put it lightly. Nngh- I must be positively repulsive right now… Hh-hhaAH!! hHg-GGshHTtchew!! HhagTSHHh!! TTshh-Iishh-SShhiiuu! Hh-iggSSHh! Haah-aasHHEW!! Ghhwaaah, oh my godddd… hhpTtshUu!!”

Cactus grinned, looking up devilishly. He leaned slightly closer, a playful lilt in his voice, “What, need more help?”

He was a mess. And Cactus was still holding onto him, a slightly softer smile on his face now.

“Bless you. See? Much easier when you let them out.” the blond let his boyfriend go, rummaged in his nearby hoodie’s pocket for a light purple handkerchief, and pressed it into Rose’s palm.

“You…” the cloth was gratefully taken, then used to blow his nose and clean himself up, “I don’t understand you sometimes. You’re… you’re absurd.”

“Yeah, ‘spected as much. Uh, by the way…”

“Ah, but ya love me.”

“That I do, dear.” Rose performatively raised the hand still clutching the handkerchief, “I’ll need to keep using this for the rest of the night, you know.”

“Mm?”

“How do you clean a feather duster?”

“Wh– t-take it outside!!!”

[selene-and-the-cold]

Trying to get back into the snz kinkspace after a bit of a low kink snz drive by thinking about snzarios.

Today's thought: a person with the most obnoxious sneeze and a cold, who's trying not to sneeze in a super quiet environment like at a church, a museum, or during a lecture. They know all eyes will be on them once one of their extra loud, wet sneezes blasts out and so they try their utmost not to sneeze.

They rub and pinch their nose, they scrunch up their face, press their nose against their knuckles, try to hold their breath, but alas it is all in vain. Their nose is just one itchy, twitchy shaky inhale away from blasting out a roaring, wet, spraying sneeze...

Bless them.

[pollinatedbosom]

*contagion/mess

character A in the kitchen making breakfast for her girlfriend, B who has been overworking herself all week. while B has been overworking herself it has actually been A slowly coming down with a nasty snotty wet mess of a cold that coincides so well with A's allergies that she hasn't given it thought.

A is in the kitchen with a persistently streaming and itchy nose. turning away from the stove or the cutting board with itchy irritated sneeze after sneeze. openly into the air. nose getting more incessantly and unmanageably runny.

A can't help resorting to running the back of her hand or arm against her twitchy irritated nose, trying to alleviate her sinuses while helping make a mess of herself.

A who may be saving breakfast from their contagious streaming cold but is absolutely not saving B from it in the long run. leaving just about every surface teaming with wet snotty contagion.

B walking into the kitchen amused to find their partner in the throws of what they assume is one of their signature allergy fits. she smiles, wrapping her arms around A from behind, "what's got you sneezing everywhere."

A is on the presuppose of another fit. desperate hitched breaths causing her chest to rise and fall erratic. repeated soaked half sniffles attempting to combat the mess begging to stream from her nose.

B having an "oh" moment when the fit of harsh wet sneezes are finally wrenched free from A's nose. "let's get you some tea and maybe some medicine." B soothes, kissing A's shoulder. "bless you." she adds softly.

[fuckin-sick-bih]

daydreaming about arboretum dates full of itchy little sneezes while we look at the trees and flowers together and i get to give his red, twitchy nose plenty of kisses <3

[lake-snz]

High Sneezes (f)

Sat in my car for this one, as per usual. There’s something about imagining you’re surrounded by people without there actually being anyone. I can’t imagine the feeling a snzfxckr might get from hearing how much I wanted each and every sneeze.

This wav includes an itchy, twitchy nose and some very sensitive nostrils. Enjoy :)

[hetchiew]

I’ve had to sneeze for the past few days😫

There’s been a light but persistent tickle in my nose at all times, maddeningly just out of reach

And I know if I induced I would quickly be able to have a huge, relieving fit since my nose is so sensitive

But I want it to come naturally

So instead of just helping my nose get its sneezes out, I’ve been letting it embarrass me with twitchy nostrils and random hitching fits that only leave me impossibly stuffy and teary eyed🤦🏼‍♂️

When no one is looking I let myself give my nose a harsh rub, but the clicking, messy sounds from the congestion shifting around still let everyone know that I’m an itchy, snotty mess🫣

[kaijusnz]

focalor/furina pls? i love ur hcs

Yesss my favorite girllll

Furina

Very desperate sounding

High pitched squeak at the begining of a sneeze

Hates others seeing her sneeze she gets really embarrassed

Vocal + breathy buildups that are very intense

Twitchy scrunged up nose

Dog allergy

Dust and pollen allergies too

Marcottes make her especially itchy

Those two are worse than the dog one

Strong perfume can set her off as well

Big fits

Never just one sneeze it's always at least 5

In the opera house she would pinch her nose and cover her mouth during a fit so no one would notice

Stifling sends her into rapid fits tho

Can kind of hold back but not for super long

Her nose is very sensitive to touch so if something brushed against her nose she'll probably sneeze

Boop her nose and she'll sneeze

7/10 volume, 7/10 pitch, 10/10 wetness

So much spray when she sneezes

Blushes when she's blessed

[waterfallofspace]

Anything for you <3

🤧🤝👃😞 for (aged up) Y/uta Thanks to the wonderful @ithadtobesneezing for the ask~

~~~~~

🤧: What does their sneeze sound like? (Description, spelling, or both!)

I deeply subscribe to your absolutely breathtaking hc that they are breathy, vocal, whiny, and desperate. Something along the lines of "hhYIEShhhihh-! hk'eHDjzSHhhuh-! ehiHZShh'iee-! yiESHhzhiehh-!"

🤝: Do they like to be taken care of when they’re not feeling well? Or do they hate it when people fuss over them? If they do, what’s their favorite thing about being taken care of? If not, why don’t they like being taken care of? How bad would they have to be before they’d let anyone take care of them in any capacity?

Somehow.. both? It makes him feel so good to be cared for, comforted, and if it's someone he trusts, he'll absolutely melt into their embrace. Buutt... he's also so nervous about asking for it, about being a burden, so even when they offer care, he's hesitant to accept it. Even if he's deeply unwell.

He prefers to act like he's okay, even when he's not, unless it's someone who's earned his trust, and showed him it's okay to ask for what he needs. In those cases, he craves hugs so much. Cuddling too, just anything where they're embracing him and he gets to snuggle into their chest and just be held <3 (also a few times people cooked his favourite meals for him and he cried <3)

👃: In general, how sensitive is their nose? Can something like a certain flower or smell make them sneeze even if they’re not allergic to it? Do they sneeze a lot on average, or not very much? Does their nose twitch a lot, or barely ever at all?

Not that sensitive to smells, but incredibly sensitive to touch. Strong scents won't normally make him itchy, let alone sneeze, but if you even so much as brush his nose with anything.... well you'll get a reaction~

On average he's not a super sneezy person, but given the sensitivity issue, mixed with some allergies and getting sick a lot (poor lil guy <3) it's not unusual to hear around 8 per week. (Not a ton, but if he's sick or having a reaction, you'll definitely get more)

His nose is definitely twitchy, whether by itself, or him choosing to scrunch it. He prefers to keep hands off when he can, since it's so quick to get irritated at touch, even his own. Sooo, more often then not he'll attempt to just wiggle it around to keep it from getting too itchy.

😔: What are their “tells” when they’re not feeling their best? Do they sleep more or less? Do they become easily irritated, aggressive, snap at little things? Or do they withdraw and become quieter, cry at the drop of a hat, stay in the background? What’s the one surefire way that one of their loved ones would be able to tell that they’re sick?

One tell is the bags under his eyes basically tripling. He has some trouble sleeping at the best of times, and when he's sick it always gets worse. Him yawning a lot more is also a tell, as well as finding him wandering aimlessly as if in a daze.

When he's unwell, he does get irritated more easily, but only with himself </3. Why am I sick, why can't I sleep, I'm bothering everyone, etc. Because of this he usually gets a bit more withdrawn, afraid of annoying people. You'll notice his attitude towards himself switch to an even harsher tone.

He's also one of the people who gets emotional quickly anyways, and when he's unwell, or fevered, it's so much more intense for him. It's not unusual to catch him swiping a few tears away, a glare aimed towards the floor that you can tell is meant to be aimed at himself.

Surefire way for loved ones to tell he's sick is the uneven quality of his voice. Not that it's harsher, or deeper, but between his throat, and chest, and the emotional state, you'll find his tone dropped to almost a whisper, barely able to be heard.

[sneezydarliing]

Of course!! Reqs are still open to anybody btw!! I know I'm slow but I love doing them! I'm also playing around with formatting a bit so excuse any inconsistencies for a bit until I figure out what I like best

Alhaitham + Tighnari snz hc's for anon :]

Tighnari

✦Definitely rapid fits of around 3-4 usually

✦ I don't think he's really the type to stifle unless he needs to be quiet. He's more of the type to let bodily functions like that happen (and lecture about the harmful effects of stifling)

✦ No allergies, but a huge sensitivity to spices. Even just being near them is enough to make him sneeze

✦ Usually wears a mask when working with spices to keep himself together

✦ The sneezes themselves are wet and itchy. Sneezes either into his elbow or the back of his wrist

✦ Scrunches up his nose when it's itchy. You can also tell because his ears will get twitchy

✦ He'll make sure to work a bit while he's unwell, but also makes sure he rests. Not opposed to caretaking but definitely leans more towards solitude as to not be a bother

Alhaitham

✧ Singles or doubles

✧ Around medium volume, tends not to stifle but they're very harsh when he does.

✧ Mild dust allergy. Unless he's bothered by something else, he'll usually get away with a runny nose and a couple odd sneezes.

✧ Usually into his elbow, but he'll sneeze openly or into his lap at home

✧ Definitely tries to work through any illness. The feeble scholar has little time for rest (Or so he thinks)

✧ Prone to slight fevers and migraines, especially when stressed

✧ Gets a bit whiny and clingy if he's feeling extra bad

✧ Very little buildup, sneezes tend to come out of nowhere and startle those around him a bit (especially Kaveh, who tends to start a fight over it)

✧ Tends to run a bit cold, and it multiplies when he's ill. He'll bundle up under 3 blankets and still complain that he's freezing.

✧ If he stops (is forced to) working, he tries to just sleep off colds without actually taking much care of himself

Anybody can feel free to add on!!

[snzysimper]

For @itchy-twitchy-sneezes

So I drew the line art, began to color it , forgot that I’m drawing Toy Freddy, not FUNTIME Freddy, went back and fixed a few colors, kept coloring, forgot that Toy Freddy is more of an orange ish color and not brown like classic Freddy, said oh whatever it’s fine, tried to decide if I should give him a human or cartoon bear nose, and then gave up 💀

Regardless, the stage can get pretty dusty. The workers aren’t paid enough to give a hoot about proper sanitation

[snifflie-ollie]

A/zure will have the most itchy red trembling twitchy nose and will say some shit like "Think I have to sneeze" like oh really you THINK?? just a hunch, huh

[selene-and-the-cold]

So my brain is verging on a snz high, so sorry for spamming this place, but please consider: a dapper fmgentleman with an equally dapper cold, almost curling in on himself as he stands in a room full of people and tries to stave off a sneeze. He has his knuckles firmly pressed to the itchy twitchy underside of his nose, but it is no use, the sneeze is about to burst out like the cork of a botyle of champagne.

Seeing that there is no way this sneeze won't be prickly and messy, the poor guy has no choice but to loosen his fine cravat and press it to his nose to catch the vicious sneeze.

[peacockeryabound]

Dance of Deviants - Part 3

(From the story of the same name on my AO3.)

Synopsis: The dance goes on, and only a select few maniacs can pursue it.

(Pairing: Micah Bell/Arthur Morgan)

Something flaky touches his nose and tips with every breath until it tickles his nostril enough for a sneeze to come. His type had always been loud - almost a bark - and the power of his heave was enough to jump his body on the cot like a beached fish. 

In the dead of night, there was hardly any light to blink through. Arthur's eyes were watering from the stimulation and the near blackness gave little to work with, so he had to rely on blind faith of his fingers in rubbing his face. Whatever had been agitating him had fallen off before he could pluck it, either onto his shoulder or his cot, leaving him to grumble and paw at himself in no particular urgency while he laid back down. 

A couple of minutes later, just as sleep was ready to steal him again, he felt another scratchy flake tickling down his face. This time it caught on the corner of his mouth, stuck by skin oil and poking into his lip from an agitated twitch. He cussed at himself from the power behind his own slap to it, leaving himself stinging and more awake than ever. 

Was it the tent flaps? He swore he secured them…

As Arthur scrunched his eyes shut, hissed from a pop in his shoulder and pushed himself onto an elbow, swatting at nothing under the impression of night bugs coming in…he stiffened as he heard it. A fleeting scrape, exactly the sharp sound of metal shaving through wood fiber. Something fell onto the slim patch of chest hair poking out his half-done union suit- another itchy thing that was so small it shouldn't have bothered him but shivered every muscle in the spot.

The scrape sounded off again. A shaky rasp hissed through the air, terrifying him in the moment as he didn't know if it was his own..his eyes shot open and he stared into the darkness, finally recognizing the shape of something looming over his bedside.

"What the hell?!"

It took every last nerve of his restraint to not just shoot Micah.

After a week of absence, he had half a mind to lash out and beat the bastard out of the other man for causing him so much worry, worry that he couldn't even put perspective to. Micah was just that chaotic of a force that stood beyond reason.

It became uncomfortably apparent from how many shavings he now felt scattered along himself that Micah had been standing there for quite some time, whittling away at a small block of wood he was holding in outstretched arms. Arthur expected him to be grinning like the asshole that he always was, delighted to dig under another man's skin…but he wasn't. 

Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark space, Arthur could only catch the heavy frown set above a mustache now trimmed, shorter and noticeably twitchy. Micah's eyes were obscured by the brim of his hat, even at the angle Arthur was straining from.

"...you gonna talk, dumbass?" He growled. He brushed off the mess while he waited. 

"Yeah." Micah's soft voice felt all the more unnerving in the dark. "Was just returning the favor."

Arthur blinked.

"...what?"

Micah blew wood dust at him and he winced from the sting burning at his eyes. He pushed himself up and ground the heel of his palm into his sockets while a fresh chip flicked him right on the chin and tumbled down his pec. He was getting ready to sass back when Micah was suddenly hissing over him, the most riled Arthur's ever heard him.

"Oh, piss off with your slow draw act, Morgan. It's gotten old. Just shut up, I am trying to be a good little boy and capture my Juliet in the moment."

He rewarded the ruined mood by carelessly dropping the statuette onto Arthur and punctuated his disappointment by ramming the tip of his blade right next to the journal on the bedside table.

"You really inspired me, cowpoke." Micah leaned a bit, tipping his hat to finally look at Arthur, though his stare was anything but composed. "I gave you something real special back there. Ain't it kind to share all that artsy crap?"

He had started to absently stroke along the book once he had grown tired of fingering the handle of his blade.

Arthur blinked at him before his eyes shot to the book. His breath was hitching and he balked into a glare as he stared back at the other man.

"Did you go through my journal ?"

A hot bolt of terror pierced him right in the gut, throwing the rest of him into a nauseating spin. There were some very personal entries in that book, not just about Micah but of the tender secrets and opinions of other folks that Micah of all fucking people had no god damn business knowing about. It was one of those scathing moments of insight that made him regret ever helping a man who culled half a town over a hissy fit about his guns.

Whatever was in his tone must have shook the bastard, for Micah lost his bite and dumbly stared at him for a moment. Even in the dark, those baby blue eyes looked sad as they always did, even through the pout he took to look at the book, lost in thought.

Micah then grinned.

"What if I did?" He cooed, pulling up the leather cover before dropping it. His middle finger stroked the string binding in a lazy circle. "Don't I have the right to see how you drew me, pervert?"

He winced from the backhand brought to his hip, himself retaliating with a smack to the same hand as it readied another punch.

"Gettin' touchy, ain't we?" He snickered. He made a show of shaking his hands as he raised him. "Ain't my fault you were the one staring at my ass like an invert-"

He took Arthur's pillow to the face. 

"Shut the hell up! You want the whole camp to hear?"

By the time Micah yanked it off, he could see the bigger man already pulling himself up. It didn't stop him from giggling, higher in pitch than he wanted but finding himself not caring in the moment.

"Oh-ho, so you do like me! That's…that's cute, Morgan." He hushed down, breathy and oddly giddy, as he tested the moment to brush a stray shaving off the other man's chest. "...h-had to step away from you for a bit, Juliet . Get my head straight."

He made sure Arthur understood the slow sweep he made across his shoulder, down to the elbow and back up in a slow rub. The bravado was flimsy, himself snorting on his own breath in an attempt to remain composed. He waited for a response, face twisting into a sneer out of nowhere before he puffed himself up and gave a theatrical sigh that impressed neither of them.

"Sappy little Arthur Morgan, defending my honor. I remembered. I remembered catching you, rubbing me all tender like…Big, strong, noble idiot…" he finger walked along the button line of the union suit, licking dry lips, "I never thought you the boy-kissin' type- ey-ey-ey!"

They both froze, eyes only on each other the moment Micah clapped his hands on Arthur's chest in a panic. His breath stuttered and his fingers tapped on their own accord. Arthur's pectorals tightened inside the scratchy cotton, flesh thumping under a dampening palm.

"What's…really happenin' here, Micah?" Arthur's voice was far softer than it had any right to be. He kept his hands readied by Micah's shoulders, posed like hawk talons with the intent to strangle him. He watched Micah swallow before giving a shrug that was far too small for his ego. His nostrils were blown wide to give away the shallow breaths he was struggling to hide.

Arthur took a step despite there being almost no distance between them, beginning to smirk through the shift of power.

Big bad Micah Bell…already buckling now that he lost his edge. Standing there, paralyzed by the heat and muscle beneath his hands, fingers fanned out across another man's chest with the reverence of a working girl studying her first dip into male flesh…he could laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

He didn't. 

Arthur instead felt his heart stuttering from the sight of Micah appearing to be swallowing excess spit, knowing the other blonde was going to feel it too, that traitorous drum beat.

Their tense stare almost melted the world around it. Everything felt muddy and sweltering.

As awkwardly as the push came, it relented without much grace. Hands back up, fingers curling into shaky little paws, Micah kept swallowing and failing to hold back the need to pant. Even in the dark, Arthur can see the wide eyed stare that had little reason to look so shiny.

Micah sucked in a deep breath and nodded to nothing in particular. It was jagged and brisk, followed by a glance that darted and the tiniest "uh" that whimpered out of him. The exhale was sharp.

"I always believed…in an eye for an eye, cowpoke." Micah's voice turned stiff. He nodded again, putting on his sloppiest attempt yet at a confident smile. "A-as I said…I'm just returning the favor."

Just as Arthur was about to open his mouth, Micah grabbed the journal and bolted out of the tent. 

“- HEY!”

Arthur nearly ate the dirt in his frantic stumble out, buttoning his trousers with one hand while clutching his boots with the other. He caught Micah hopping up onto Baylock who had been waiting far too close to be coincidence, just as he saw the shitty little grin that caught the scout fire's light before the nuisance kicked his spurs to drive the stallion out of camp. Arthur cussed under every rock and trash fragment poking into his bare feet during his awkward attempt at stealth towards the horses, mouth so dry that his whistle came out more as a spitty breath. Even his mare had to take three attempts before raising her ears up at the hitching post.

He never realized how awkward it was to try and tug on shoes while balancing on a horse. His mare protested but kept eyes on the target, dutifully kicking her legs to their limits in an obedient attempt to close the distance as she chased through thickets and up inclines, faster and further away from the frogs and crickets of the damp Lemoyne fields and back up into the dry New Hanover prairies. 

“You goddamn animal!” Arthur barked, already drawing out his revolver. It was a bluffing move, but the sentiment was far too real. 

He growled at his own barking style of laughter, tossed right back at him.

“Well, that ain’t nice , Arthur!” 

Micah drove his horse into a herd of passing bison. Arthur’s mare staggered when one on the tail end drew too close, neighing in protest while taking a sharp right to follow the right flank. Arthur grimaced as he winced under the crack of a revolver shot, watching a big bull crashing into the ground after getting close to ramming at the other outlaw. The rest of the herd scattered into a violent panic, forcing him to tug on his reins hard enough to get his Arabian to strafe and make a wide turn around the building perimeter.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?! The hell’s the matter with you?”

Oh, Charles was going to be one more name to the list against Micah now…

He growled at the casual look back. Micah gave an exaggerated shrug to be read clear in the distance building between them, twisting himself in his saddle to show off the act of opening the journal in a mocking air to peruse it. 

“-Oh! What a cute little wolf. That’s just darling-”

He nearly dropped it from the warning shot that kicked his hat right off his head, cussing back to Arthur as he pistol whipped Baylock against the ass to get him to kick faster. 

The chase was intense, driving them both to leap over small overhangs jutting the hillsides, through patches of uneven dirt and veering to avoid small animals nesting amid the prairie grasses. Micah tore a hard left towards upcoming railroad tracks, right into the light of an upcoming train.

“You want this back so bad, Juliet? You want me, sweetheart? Come and show me some teeth!” 

He whooped and charged right across the tracks, just barely clearing the space before the engine cleaved between them. Arthur nearly skid right into the blur of carriages, arms thrown around the neck of his mare to stop himself as she screamed and nearly slipped in her panicked halt. They both watched the endless crawl of the wailing locomotive, of the fleeting shapes of people peering out and the rattling of cargo bouncing above shaky wheels. 

As he palmed at his chest to calm himself, he felt a despair overcome him after looking to both sides, finding himself effectively trapped without an opening to bolt through. He slumped against his gentle beast, face buried in crossed arms as a shaky exhale wheezed out of him. This was it, he supposed. 

Micah was going to spill all his secrets now like the fucking rat that he was and parade it around camp with his usual shamelessness. He’ll be fattened up with blackmail opportunities, eager to poke at every hole in Arthur’s resolve, taking advantage of him just like he did with every other scrap of generosity tossed his way. Should have eaten that bullet that took his hat…

The sudden rush of wind running off the caboose was enough for him to raise his head, just barely. He pinched at the bridge of his nose and stiffened back up, head hung and humoring himself with pickling his sentiments over Pearson’s secret moonshine stash at the fire…until he glanced up and looked across the track.

Baylock was still there, as was his rider. The death’s head stallion flicked an ear while staring at Arthur with pale eyes, chewing on some dry grass while standing in place as Micah studied a page in the journal with a lost expression. Arthur’s breathing hitched again, something hot and tingling crawling down his spine and right down into his tail bone.

Something was not right, and it wasn’t the standoff between them. Micah’s earlier bluff in the tent didn’t make sense in his current body language, his jaw parted and cupping at his cheek, pushing his lips back into a pout to recreate what he was seeing. He brought his hand back to the page, tracing over the expanse and mumbling the words he was reading. When his eyes flicked back up to Arthur, he frowned and cocked his head, remaining where he was as the other man approached.

He didn’t say anything as he handed the journal back, holding Arthur’s stare with glassy pale eyes. 

Two outlaws they were, caught up in each other. It was a standoff for the ages, broken only by Micah nudging his horse to turn away, gaze still lingering on Arthur as he was carried in a slow trot up the dusty path towards the rocky hillside. 

He stiffened up, the faintest ghost of a smile escaping him once he saw Arthur beginning to follow him.

The urgency now fleeting, they rode side by side in a silence that didn’t need to be broken now. Baylock seemed to know the way, dutifully following the dug road without any tugs from his rider. The only time he glanced back for direction was to make eyes with the stunning mare beside him. Both horses exchanged a heated lipping once she got close, which earned a surprised snort from Arthur. 

When a faint footpath split through the grass on their left, Micah gave a whistle to get Arthur’s attention, just enough to allow him to skip forward and cut him off by crossing over. His stallion slowed to an almost somber walk despite plenty of space and no obstructions, a concerning show in how the chase just died then and there. 

Arthur remained at the bottom, watching. He felt like a school boy, book to his chest in a crushing press, palm damp against the back leather and fingers curled so tight he could hear a joint pop. It hurt to hold his breath and yet he struggled to let it go, enraptured by the sight before him. 

Thinking was hard- his tired brain was soft like cheese in the moment. All he could understand was the war beat pummeling his chest.

A smart man would know that this all looked like a setup. A smarter man would not be so easily convinced by whatever randy thoughts were spurred by a lick of the lips and a free dip back into bedside memories. A fool followed…so he did.

His delay made him easily lose sight of Micah, who had already crested the hill and wandered out of sight. Arthur swore he had come up this spot earlier in his travels, when a hunt for strange bones had taken him far off the common roads and deep into wild country. He had seen many funny sights, just as he had stumbled across cabins just like the one that rose up to greet him at the summit of his climb, lights on and absolutely alone. He had to pause, looking around for any signs of company.

Arthur may have been exhausted in the moment, rudely reminded of being awoken far too early after already too many long days, but he was not an idiot. Micah would never just lead him past a prime plunder spot and not capitalize on it. The glow of the windows invited him to slip off his mare and withdraw his gun during his approach. This was an absolute waste of his time, being dragged halfway across a county in pursuit of some childish dumbass who had nothing better to do…

A dumbass he had drawn pictures of, defended for honor and had been thinking about far too often. He sighed against the front door and rested both his head and elbow upon it for a moment. Once they were back in camp, he was throwing the dick to Dutch. 

Despite still being in just his union suit and trousers, Arthur was thankful that he had wadded up his bandana earlier and shoved it into his pocket after coming off a job with John. The arrangement was sloppy but it decently covered up his shame as he threw his weight against the wood and barged inside, Cattleman ready. 

“Alright, come on!” He barked, though he faltered as he realized he was pointing his gun right at Micah’s back. And, by extension, he was looking at his ass again, fuck -

Arthur instead dropped his weapon and pulled down the cloth. He felt more comfortable in looking for where the body was.

It really bothered him to see the cabin looking immaculate, spread out with the usual fixings on the shelves and tables. A few lanterns peppered the space in an intimate glow, capturing a look that was far too tender on a man like Micah once he turned around to stare back. Arthur gawked at the sight of the phonograph that had been the focus of Micah’s fiddling.

A phonograph, on a table that was far too small for it, where no sensible owner would even keep-

…there they were again, those nasty little implications that squirmed in his gut. The only dignified thing he could do was keep his mouth shut and stare, taking in the puppy-eyed look coming from the man he had always known as an unrepentant killer. He realized now why his attention lingered earlier on the odd trim of Mr. Bell’s mustache, as it really had been groomed for the occasion, as was the rest of him. 

Perfectly exposed under the lights, Arthur saw Micah wearing clean and properly tucked clothes for once. He had not only combed his hair back but it looked remarkably soft and fluffed, lacking the shine that the usual grease caught in the sunlight. Micah looked uncomfortable in his own fresh-polished boots, fists clenched and head low.

Arthur felt all the more ridiculous now, standing there half dressed and dusty from the chase.

“...What’s all this?” He asked as he holstered his weapon. “Micah. I said wh…”

He hushed himself as music started to play.  The tone of the atmosphere shifted, adding only further nuance to the dim lights, the clean space…the goose pimples raising up the back of his neck.

Micah took three steps forward, eyes still on him despite how jumpy they looked. His breath was catching noticeably, defecting back to that little nose wiggle he took to when caught back at the tent. A sharp inhale stiffened them both while he closed his eyes, an exhale parting in a slow breath while he prepared himself for something.

“...You alright, Micah?”

Arthur blinked at the hand offered to him.

"On…this beautiful night," Micah started, biting his lip and blinking his wet eyes, struggling through his breathing. He was so god damn nervous, way out of his element, "will…you dance with me, Arthur? A-Arthur Morgan?"

There was music, a fanciful tune of violins and cellos, yet the world was silent to Arthur in that moment. He was locked into a stunned state, holding his breath until his lungs burned and his eardrums throbbed, the world turning into funny colors as it felt slowed like molasses. It was familiar to a trick he often pulled when lining up his shots, just as he was now watching that outstretched hand as if it were the fleeting moment before a quick draw. Micah couldn't even blink, jaw slowly moving like a puppet and brows pushed together so troubled-like because lord, he was such a sensitive little rabbit…

Arthur accepted Micah’s hand and the world resumed at full speed. His nerves went crashing down as if he were falling, choking his next breath into a knot within his throat. His smile was dumbfounded, trying to settle on shaking his head at the absurdity and nodding because it pained him to see another man look so helpless, especially Micah Bell.

"Sure." He laughed through a wheeze.

His mind was brought back to the tent, fingers laced with Micah’s to comfort him during his nightmare, just like he did now as the poor fool looked ready to retch on himself from no doubt a similar sensation. After this was all said and done, weeks down the road, Arthur will have his fun in teasing. For now, he remembered the secrets entrusted to him as he settled closer to the other outlaw, chest to chest. This night clearly took a lot of effort to pull off, an unheard of act of passion from a man leading his own crusade against everything and everyone.

"I…I ain't gonna laugh." His voice was soft, reassuring while Micah squirmed from the sudden closeness. They both fumbled on where to put their hands, himself rumbling while Micah cussed under his breath as if he were spilling bullets. "Here, put your hand-"

"I know how this works," Micah snapped and clapped his hand on Arthur's ass, "Fuck off".

Arthur had to stare up at the ceiling while he pulled the hand up to the small of his back. Playing the role of the female, he cupped Micah's chest and tried not to laugh in his face once he saw it burn red. He promised.

Micah was never not a lying bastard but Arthur feigned ignorance of the inexperience, closing his eyes and being guided by the sway that he was being pulled into. 

Was this better than sleep? Truthfully, he still felt like this all was some absurd dream, but the peace of knowing things were alright and very much real against his flesh had energized him. There may never be another night like this.

He cracked an eye to glance down, catching Micah staring at their feet.

"Never thought you was a slow dancer." He mused.

"I’m just warming up.” Micah grumbled and pulled him forward. They settled into a stumble before taking to a rhythm, sloppy and nearly stepping on toes but it was progress. Arthur began to exaggerate his footsteps so that his pattern was easier to catch and follow.

The temptation was so strong, but he killed a thought before it became words. With how their banter normally went, it was too tempting to ask if this was the dance Micah had been strutting around Mary-Beth to get, which they both knew was not the intended offer. Micah had flirted with and got beat down by every woman in camp by this point and had always walked each attempt off with a chuckle. Now…this was an entirely different animal. He was clinging to Arthur as if afraid to lose him, squeezing their fingers in a white knuckled hold as he overworked himself to just remain composed. His face was soured into a glare, so deep in focus he didn’t even notice the soft eyes fixed on him.

He tripped onto Arthur’s foot when the hand on his chest slipped up to cup the side of his neck.

"T-the hell you doing?!"

"Just admirin' my Romeo. " Arthur grinned at him.

Christ, Micah was so cute in this moment. Arthur wished this was his normal baseline instead of whatever the hell it was when he made a mess in camp. He was jumpy and panicked, so ready to kick in the embrace but something about those expressive pale eyes just did something to Arthur's firm hold on him.

Look at you. Christ…look at you.

Arthur kept him tethered with eye contact while he petted along the soft skin, cresting the jaw to stroke his thumb along it. This pitiful fool was so horrendously touch starved, made obvious from his fingers clawing into Arthur's clothes, his eyelids fluttering. Every small whimper rolled up shivers that almost encouraged him to snuggle against Arthur’s chest. 

The very notion that another dirty outlaw felt compelled to bathe, just for him, was honestly one of the most touching discoveries, to say the least of where they stood now. It deserved some reward.

He hooked his free arm around the small of Micah’s back, using it to help catch him once he spooked during the lean in to press their cheeks together in a tender nuzzle.

"You ever dance with another man?" He had to ask, lest he poke the hornet nest too blindly. His breath was no doubt tickling Micah’s ear, if the shivering felt against him was any hint.

Micah looked ready to curl in on himself, head down and face tight into a pained look. He didn’t say anything for the longest time, instead settling back into a leading sway that felt more like a dying man’s shamble, hugging so tight it felt almost like a desperation to get into another skin that wasn’t his own.

Arthur remembered that same stripped down feeling when he had kissed his first man years back, when he had been nursing liquor to burn the pains of his family, the same way Hosea had taken to self medicating after losing his wife. Arthur had tossed around tantrums of disgust too, feeling it degenerate and desperate to nestle against another beard but…after the loathsome tingling had died when the kisses continued, he had realized then and there, halfway into some stranger’s lap in a back room of the bar out in Van Horn that it wasn't too much different than necking a girl. More hairy, less supple but…it really hadn't been a big song and dance in the grand scheme of things. Body heat and tender touches were universal in how they nourished the spirit. 

He could say in his current place that he better understood the plights of folk like Bill and now Micah, trapped under the demands of polite society. 

"...that pomp show you did with Mary-Beth…it wasn't because you fancied her, huh." He mumbled. By this point they had stopped moving altogether, instead clinging in an awkward hug as the music carried on without remorse. He took to petting his fingers through the softened pale hair, lulled by the distinct scent of sweet soap tickling his nose. "I saw you lookin' at me right before."

Fingers were digging into his back. Micah had all but shoved his forehead onto his shoulder, hissing while the rest of him squeezed through every snarl as if he were being branded. 

But Arthur didn't laugh at him for what shame he felt. 

His broad hands found the same spots between the shoulder blades, casting wide rubs to warm some resolve back a man who so often convinced himself to be implacable. 

Big bad Micah Bell, misery incarnate that walked the earth, now shedding down into his most fragile of states…right into the arms of the only man he clearly trusted. He whimpered from the soft kiss pressing against a parted spot in his hair.

"I got you," Arthur grunted. He was being squeezed so tight that there wasn't much space to breathe. He closed his eyes to kiss the crown spot again. "You're a good dancer-"

"Stop." 

The wet croak should have surprised him. He stood still, loosened up and quiet as Micah pulled back, face flushed and shiny from sweat and tears. There was a distant glaze over his eyes and his hands were back up, exactly on the same spots along Arthur’s chest as they had been back in the tent.

“Ok.” 

“No, it ain’t …” The other blonde heaved, arms trembling until they thrust his palms into a shove. He screamed in frustration when those damned strong hands gripped his shoulders so hard the both of them felt the joints pop. “Get the f-fuck off me!”

“What the hell?” In the scuffle, Arthur barked over him. "You hauled my ass all the way out here for a dance and now you back out? No, stay-" 

He brought Micah back to him, an idea he regretted due to a knee suddenly crushing his groin in a rough kick. He was brought down to a cussing hiss, tears stinging in his eyes while trying to squint through the pain. Micah stood there like an idiot, face flashing through emotions of amusement and anger and back to terror as he stumbled backwards into a corner.

The fool cowered from the slow trudge that came his way, and he let a sob strangle him when the hands around his shoulders didn't.

"Micah…" Arthur's voice was an uncomfortable high wheeze, "I'm going…to kick your ass for that..."

He stroked his thumbs along the crisp fabric of the dress shirt to ease down the tensing beneath it.

"...F-for all this?"

"No…for kicking me in the balls, asshole."

He leaned in with a pained smile, pressing his forehead to Micah's. He could feel the other man's hands twitching between the space of their hip bones, hovering over those guns he seemed to love more than anything else in the world.

Untrue, as those glassy blue eyes were regarding him in a soft manner Arthur had never seen before.

"Y…y-you tell anyone about this, I-I will kill you."

Arthur was quiet for a moment, studying the tear streaks. The rapid breaths against his lips sent a pang of sentiment down into his gut. He nodded, faking a shaky sigh of his own to remain docile.

"Alright."

He leaned in, putting this standoff to rest with a kiss to Micah’s lips.

No, there was nothing wrong with kissing a fool, be they man or woman, the highest of politicians or the lowest of beggars. Knowing well how crippling that loneliness was and what demons it manifested, Arthur held Micah close, his hands cupping softened cheeks. He kept his mouth simple- nothing more than a press, to test and settle into. Micah was nearly tearing the collar of his union suit in the death grip held onto him.

Arthur could feel his own mustache dampening on one side from how much Micah's nose was sniffling. He could feel the opposing heartbeat in the crush between their chests. When he pulled back, he caught the other man with his eyes closed.

"Feel good?" He mumbled, hushing Micah again as another cheek stroke drew out a whimper. "This what you wanted?"

It was obvious. No lunatic went through all this trouble just to have a dance. He wanted Micah to acknowledge that. He already came to peace with himself for why he followed along.

He watched a half-assed head shake and leaned in to kiss him again, this time making the sound heard to seal his own commitment. Arthur Morgan was no coward.

"Take it easy. You're doing well. It's really alright-"

"No it isn't, Arthur." Micah choked at him. His bottom lip was trembling and his hands balled into fists. "I-it ain't alright! No man of the Bell name is some disgusting invert! My daddy would crawl out his grave a-a-and take my balls if he could!"

"Micah," Arthur sighed, though he was distracted for a moment by how warm his chest felt. They were now on a first name basis, and he felt a tingle of pride in his belly. "I don't know if you noticed but…" he pulled them both back to the center of the cabin and placed their hands back into their dancing hold, "Our gang ain't normal anyway."

He took full advantage of Micah's sensitivity in the moment to resume the slow dance they had been attempting, stroking along his cheek to keep him placid. 

"We got folks of all colors. We got women. Got Uncle…" he chuckled, hoping to hear it returned. All he got was a small mumble and god, the way he was being stared at now was something else. For being such a rat bastard, Micah could pull off a perfect wounded expression. Knowing now it was actually real and not another one of his ruses made Arthur feel more absolute than ever to protect it.

He had been part of tea parties with Algernon and carried Albert like a bride through the gator mud of the bayou. He had been part of campfire confessionals between Dutch and Hosea, who committed to new loves and old honors but still held hands as they mumbled over philosophies. He had tracked down strange beasts for a man in a dress and had obliged a hug for a one armed beggar who mentally couldn't leave the war. The world was full of queer folk but in the end, it was those strange encounters that reminded him that the world still had hope to be free. If those tender moments made him an invert then hell, he'd wave a flag. They had all been much better company than the stuffy pomps of adjusted society.

He had an idea, once he glanced around the space. Guiding Micah with him, he broke the embrace to instead turn the other man around, standing behind him and peering over his shoulder as they looked at their reflections in the standing mirror.

"Look at you. All dressed up for a good thing. Wondered if you ever caught it, Micah…but we got inverts too."

He knew better than to spill out Bill's secrets, but the look he was being given told him that Micah clearly didn't take it that way. He noticed his own cheeks burning at the implication but ran with it, standing up proud and nodding. 

"Yep."

That was him, big man Arthur Morgan. Enforcer of the legendary Van der Linde gang, accomplished gunman, team muscle…kisser of men. Surely that was one of his smaller sins, but he still nodded as though it were some gutting secret.

If anything, it hit a nerve that he had hoped. Micah's jaw finally stopped quivering and he dropped his shoulders on his next exhale, eyes twinkling as he stared at Arthur through his reflection. It was an opportunity to keep going, so Arthur did.

He wrapped his arms around his fellow sinner, chin on his shoulder and hands rubbing at the sides. He could feel the definition of Micah's soft belly there, smiling without shame as he seemed to find some tickle spots.

"Why do you care so much, what the world thinks when you know it hates you right back?"

He brushed the fluffy hair out of his way so he could place a few slow kisses along Micah's neck. He groaned into his final one when he felt a firm rump arching back against him.

"Hell with your pa. Him dead sounds like the best thing for you." He slipped a hand over the belly swell contained behind the snug shirt, holding Micah tighter with his other arm once he squirmed. "You ain't ugly. You ain't a freak…you may be bent, but you ain't broken."

He kissed a bit harder, almost in a vampiric tug to fight back against the crumple he prevented in his strong embrace. He chased every sob with a kiss along the expanse, trailing meticulously along every dry patch of neck he could find while holding Micah close, stroking his stomach and blindly swatting around until their hands joined again.

"If you would just…stop shitting on yourself with this idea you're nothing but shit, then the gang will like you more." Another apologetic kiss, this time right on the hickey spot he accidentally made. Arthur smiled at it; it had been years since he last made one. "I like you."

He pulled away and was careful in turning Micah back around to face him. He rubbed his hands on his pants to ensure his thumbs were clean so that he could use them to wipe at Micah's eyes while giving him a warm smile.

"You're a one-man riot who makes my life hell…but I keep coming back." 

Micah sniffled at him, huffing through his nod. He cast a glance elsewhere, remembering that music had been playing the whole time. It was enough to reshape his focus, to exhale and rub at his face with the heel of his sleeve.

"You piss me off, a lot." He grumbled, refusing to look back. "You're a big bastard in combat and yet you're so…god damn nice."

He balled his fists and snorted. 

"You're so nice a-and it's disgusting. People walk all over you and you just smile like the moron you are and yet they all love you after you break your…y-your back carrying them."

He snapped his gaze back, wounded and yet resolute. He pointed, just like he did at Mary-Beth.

"Fuck you, fuck you a-and your art and your cute talk and your honor and…and…"

He was panting again, but he closed his mouth and lurched through his breaths, sad eyes watering up again. He didn't fight back this time when Arthur pulled him back into a hug.

"That's the nicest thing you ever said to me." He smiled, rubbing at his back. "I know. You ain't gotta try to fluff it up for me." He bumped their foreheads again and let him go. He took a few theatrical steps back, as if he were pained from the loss but he knew how Micah got when he felt constricted. This constant back and forth was reminding him that it was still late into the night and his bones were tired, but Arthur was nothing if not a committed man.

"You're not off the hook though. You got all prettied up and made this big plan to dance, so…we're going to dance, alright?"

He didn't immediately go back for the next grab, instead holding his arms out to see if the mood was still there. Micah clearly had a lot of devils to tango with first, but it was a good start. His smile grew as the other blonde took a deep breath, straightened up and closed the distance. 

Micah's eyes were still watery but his attitude had shifted in that moment. He was letting his gaze roam, increasingly bolstered as he understood now that he was safe in expressing himself. He was the one cupping Arthur's shoulders, testing their firmness with rubs that quickly slipped back down to the muscles in his chest, an obvious happy spot. 

Arthur held still for him, watching with a hooded gaze. He must have looked so graceful, a peak male specimen in this exploration. He amused himself with mental images of a proud buck in the morning sun, courtesy of Charles.

At least his little jackrabbit was no longer threatened.

He let himself settle back into position once Micah grabbed his hands to return them to himself, one cupped over his shoulder and the other stroking on his cheek. They both exchanged messy smiles.

"Hey, pretty boy." Arthur mumbled.

"S-shut up." Micah wheezed, though his expression was almost breathless, absolutely elated.

He remembered to follow Arthur's footsteps during their return to the music, swaying and bumping hips and other things. 

Astounding as it was for Micah of all people to be feeling him up like this, the heavy tremble that Arthur felt in his own heart was undeniable, keeping him warm and fuzzy and light on his feet. Micah's gaze was doing things to him- fitting for a new picture.

"Starting to feel a bit exposed here," he laughed. He watched Micah tracing a finger over his exposed chest hair to get used to get used to the sensation.

"Huh?" 

"Just saying," he petted down a stray lock of white-blonde hair, "You're all dressed up for a show and I'm half in my long-johns."

The mischievous smirk he received was something else.

"Maybe that was part of the plan," Micah Bell, baddest man in the county, giggled while petting along Arthur's beard. He made a bratty face when Arthur arched a brow.

"Uh, yeah. Easier to take off."

Their laughter started out in small huffs until Arthur snorted when he couldn't stay serious anymore, barking out loud until it broke Micah's control and he too joined in, the both of them howling in a feedback loop every time they looked at each other. They both failed miserably at holding their breaths to try and hush down, only to start all over again.

They were almost to their knees in their hug by the time they both finally controlled their lungs. 

Micah was the one who pulled him back this time. He had a look of gratitude in his soft baby blues, lips set in an honest to god smile of content and it stole them away into a tender mood, swaying and bumping into each other like giddy boys. 

Arthur let him lead. This was his plan, after all. When the record finally settled into a scratchy finish, they must have lazily spun a hundred times. Micah ceased his footwork to look over at the phonograph, almost lamenting that it was over.

Of course, it wasn't.

He returned his gaze to Arthur and his eyes began to lock up, his blinks becoming more and more delayed. Arthur knew that tell all too well.

So, he pretended to be moved by the fingers digging into both of his biceps by lowering his face just enough and closed his eyes.

He waited, mouth closed and almost parted, breathing halted to telegraph the idea of spellbound forgetfulness. He pushed his chest right up into his rising shoulders when courage rallied the other outlaw's lips to greet his own.

Micah clearly wasn't a soft kisser, but this was good practice. Arthur held no disdain for working girls but he silently thanked them for their dedication to whatever they had to endure. This was his rodeo now.

Part of him wondered how long it was going to take until those hands began to cup elsewhere, or else this was going to end up feeling like something at gunpoint. Micah hardly moved his lips beyond a few timid pecks, but after letting one linger too long something changed. The next kiss delivered more pressure, the full pucker and parting sound. Then came the next, staying longer while tense fingers caught on the union suit during their ascent. They tangled in the back of dark blonde hair and scraped along a stubble, squeezing tighter from the jubilation of strong arms wrapping back around him. The beginnings of competition made him groan into their first bout of mutual nipping.

"You gonna fix that?" Arthur mumbled into a peck on a mouth corner, nodding his head in the direction of the skipping record. Micah shrugged and kissed him again. They both smiled.

They enjoyed it, until a distant cussing and the cries of their horses spooked them. Arthur stood up straight, blinked at the door and then made a glowering side eye to the other blonde.

"You didn't spot check? "

"How was I supposed to know he'd get home early?" Micah hissed while fishing for his gun. 

"Since when did you of all people give a damn about keeping it clean? I was looking around for where you stuffed him!!"

"I wanted to impress you, asshole!"

They both aimed at the door, chest to chest, cheek to cheek, sassing at each other like smiling devils while cocking the hammers of their revolvers.

[thegaynessarchives]

Made a thing (my interpretation of lyrics below cut pls read them they took so fucking long to do)

Lyrics (this took me literally three hours pls appreciate this):

Pink long nade I'm an autumn but coats bomber

Peter plum my ballers man daughter's ring us growing

She alana these god love me like me

But bein honest I don't wanna yo eeee

I can yell about cuts, buzz cooling off your dingers

Now's telling up a golden meme, a meven and stingers

There's a thing, range endings, there theft, gift of luck

And now I'm aberrant and burrows fat

Pretty wood habits, fire every bet, nose, body, no bed, hose, body, every bone

Didn't buddies, every bliss, piss buddies

Din misses, hi friss friss, smurfs, crying, no, whistle, tone, wind, wind, dee us

They become laid itchablong with me, whiff

Then maybe horroreen at night, you beef

You when what's around, we fight, dong with me, whiff

Then could you time around, tell me I fuck you? preef

Baby, come lay itchiblong with me, whiff

Baby will wreathe at night with you beef

Then when what's around, we fight, dong with me, biff

Witchy titchy town, tell me, hell me, jilk if I'm salad pretty

S

Think of wrath, words, red blinds, why if dimples?

I think it's that when future be the futon when they pimple things were

Schizo or yeet your chank fof

Lou didja bam a ee? Or tweet, you stay tough

Outwitted, if if it fell, then dick, we went sofa deenafed catch it

You can carry, not good, different bodies, Eddie b oh a patch

Buddy, look at feather pockets, so they'll bam me

Way down, that's what wondering, til the end, if we'll fester all day

Is we play we back, nose, not even a bad nose

Thought he met me with my dollar buddies, act dismiss damn

Yeah, and this is my fist pissed first

Catterton, lost to be loved, and busy now

Baby, come lay, itchiblong with me, whiff

Baby doll reeeeing wool that bite you, weef

When we bust hoot out, we'll find dome with me, whiff

Could you time around? Tell me, I fuck you creep

Babygirl lay, itchiblong with me, whiff

Baby doll, reeee hurt at night, you, weef

And we whats hoot out, you'll find dung with me, whiff

Itchy twitchy town

Tell me, tell me, still, if I'm salad pluty

Walking with a scone legs, breaks and set sun

Ease small brown, lost your punch to cool

With the new tears, warmer, move, groove

Or stew, don't use sins, what's that?

sneeze

Those two need seats, bleed, and know eats a

Sequins, dream at pigeons, flower, fair your

Guess I fear and look tiara

J

Deadly sack to paint sedra, BOOB, every

Ready body, know that, knows nut in every bad

Oh, slutty suckerfish, like, nah, like, fuck you BBPT

This is my friend, this is her stem

Think, any, my bin, missus first, every

Think, anybody, know that, knows buddy every many

Ghost daddies every wrong teen lies

Maz biz, wife and misses first, I break their no ring

I'll now actly vicious

Baby chin finish, itchiblong yo lay it

Baby, with, me, with, that, right, goal reeee ith

Ow and, Q, if I'm wrong, what's it out with?

Could you to me tell me life ow row free

Baby ghh you, could you blonga lay with

Baby, with me with, that, light, go reeee whiff

After you brought a gun to death stin

Could you to me, tell me help me, who'd you tell, oh

Go what so tell me would you tall the bowl that's round with

sneeze

We got to die, let's reee pew I,

sneeze

We'll dawn above, let's round with, but just oh, me

And his height, let's do light

You

Wou gee conga, lay with baby

Hey with that right, no reeeee, lift

After hear all of thought with deaths with goochy

Ee, tell me, tell me,

Could you cow how

Could you, could you tell me? e

[sensitvetouches]

AHHH I FOUND A FIC I WROTE WHEN I WAS 13!!! be nice to my young self i remember this took me a long time to write lmao. anyways here it is, it’s based off old ocs which was a human jock named belle and a dorky vampire named Mae. enjoy

Mae was going to meet her girlfriend in the library during lunch. they had been going strong for over 3 months now but were still not ready to tell anyone.

“hey you” Maes sharp ears pointed up happily as she embraced the taller girl in her arms.

they sat down, one holding the other, staring into each others eyes

the human whispered gently into Maes ears, being careful as to not hurt the sensitive vampire,

“i missed you Em”

“i missed you more” Mae said, she buried her face deep into the taller girl’s neck as Belle gently stroked her ears moving up and down.

Mae shook her head feeling the tingling sensation of her ears being rubbed

“mmm that feels nice” she moaned, relaxed and in her happy place.

Belle giggled at her adorable girlfriend and admired her soft, sweet features.

for a vampire she wasn’t very scary at all, infant she looked quite welcoming.

sure she had the fangs which were pretty noticeable when out in the open, and she had some sharp ears which stuck out a bit, but she wasn’t scary in any way, more awkward and dorky looking.

“Hih'tshiew”

a soft but itchy sneeze brings belle back from her thoughts

“bless you love”

“thank you” Mae smile shyly, embarrassed of her vulnerable outburst, she picked her glasses which has fallen off her face in the cross fire of her sneeze and put them back on. she pulled out a plaid handkerchief and tucked it around her twitching nose. as Mae smiled at Belle, she had notice that in act of sneezing, Maes fangs had come out on accident.

Mae had always been embarrassed of her lack of control with her fangs and wished she could just hide them away forever.

while vampires were accepted in the world, along with other type of creatures, they were still a minority among humans and often got picked on or bullied. comments and opinions about how vampires should be executed because of their “danger”. this made her feel as if she were a beast or creature. Mae always wished she had just been born a human but that’s something Belle could always change. Belle made Mae feel like she was fine with who she was. like no one could ever touch her in a harmful way just because she was different. Belle made Mae love who she was bc Belle loved who she was.

Another itchy sneeze irrupted out of the vampire, into her plaid handkerchief

“bless you again” belle leaned over and pushed her lovers glasses back up her face for her and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead.

it was easy to hide being sick as a vampire because they didn’t get fevers, or any outside symptoms other than sneezing and coughing. no chills, no paleness, no bags under eyes so it was hard for Belle to keep an eye out for that stuff and lord knows Mae wasn’t going to come forward and tell her.

The sniffling vampire had always been stubborn about being ill.

“vampires don’t get sick”,

something her father has always told her.

from the beginning of time vampires has always been a symbol of fear and power,

killers, hunters and creatures are what they are. not weakness, vulnerability and colds.

“you’re not getting sick are you?” Belle asked in a stern but clearly caring way.

“no no of course not, just some sneezes,” she looked down to her book,

“not a big deal” she stated, hiding her fangs before focusing her attention on her book.

Belle, of course, knew other wise. she knew her girlfriend too well for Mae to be able to lie. she observed the pale girl before she noticed a twitch. not from her nose but from her ears. the first tell tale sign that Mae needed to sneeze. her ears would get red and twitchy at the sharp point near the top.

eventually the twitching travelled down to her nose and it wasn’t too long until the poor, sniffly vampires teeth shot out again, starting the waves of embarrassment and shame deep in her chest and stomach. Belle noticed this and she put a loving hand on hers. this comforted Mae as her nose kept twitching and quivering and started to go a deep shade of pink.

Mae knows what happens next and quickly brought her hanky up to her nose and held it there for a bit. she hitched and hitched but still, no sneeze. Bella could tell she was stuck and knew just how to help her sick girlfriend.

she reached out and started to stroke her twitching ears, from the bottom lobe all the way to the sharp top.

vampires ears are incredibly sensitive and can cause sneezy outburst when stroked in a certain way.

Mae knew instantly what her girlfriend was trying to do and just let her.

Mae took one last breathe and let out the sneezes she’s been longing for.

“Hih'tshiew he hih Hih'tshiiuw eh Hi-chiew”

3 wet, girly sneezes bursted out and Mae finally had relief. she gave a satisfying nose blow and then rested her head on the wall behind her.

“bless you my love” Belle giggled and kissed her sneezy lover on the tippy top of her sensitive nose.

“Be-hi Belle ih tha- ah Hih-tshiw” Mae sneezed from the light touch of her girlfriends kiss and buried her head in Belles chest from embarrassment.

“you are so cute” the human said as she picked her girlfriend up and sat her on her lap, allowing Mae to rest and receive some much needed cuddles.

later that night Belle made blood soup and read to her sick vampire as she kissed and cared for her until Mae was all better.

[dr-ground-zero]

Tissue king

 here goes nothing (why do I get so shy about doing mha snz content?) more so platonic hero squad + todoroki being an absolute sweetheart

Pro hero deku getting hit by a quirk that causes the victim to fall ill in some sort of way and well. Deku managed to catch the sneeziest cold he’d ever had. He thought it was gonna be a small case of the sniffles but, by the time he’d showed up to the agency, his nose was already a bright pink from the tissue abuse.  He tried to hide it from the fans knowing he’d get way too much attention from them.  At the hero agency his friends weren’t stupid and heard about what had happened the day before. Some where rather curious to see if the quirk actually took affect. They didn’t even have to see him to know he was sick. They could hear him sneezing his ass down the hall.  The rather comical thing about this was, the amount of tissues Izuku would use. The poorly feeling pro knew one tissue wouldn’t stand up to his sensitively itchy nose. And that freckled thing was itching something horrid, not to mention how runny his nose got when he was sneezy. So of course it took at the very least two tissues, at the most well, the depended on how bad his nose was tickling and if he had time to grab a tissue. By the time someone had come in to check on the number one hero, his trash can was rather full (mind you is wasn’t very large in the first place). His desk wasn’t any different, yet he tried to keep it some-what clean. Though trying to keep track between sneezing and grabbing more tissues there wasn’t much he could do.

Hearing a knock on his office door, a congestion muddled “Cobe id” He quickly tries to clear his desk of used tissues, pushing them into his way too full trash can. Ochako, Katsuki, EIjirou, and Shouto walked in.  “hey there, Izuku. Oh wow, that quirk really did a number on you!” Ochako says sounding rather shocked, Katsuki folds his arms and tchted “No shit pink cheeks, you could’ve guessed that before walking in. You could hear him sneezing through the door ya know.” Rolling his eyes at his childhood friend Izuku then questioned. “Did you cobe here to harass be or what?” Sounding rather grumpy, coughing between his words. “Sorry dude, just wanted to see how you were feeling. Why didn’t you just stay home if you were feeling so bad?” Asked Eijirou worriedly, Izuku didn’t look well. His hair was more out of control than its usual organized chaos style. He was rather pale, a pink flush painted his cheeks and nose, he looked tired and sounded it too. 

“I-its just a cold Eijirou-k-kud h-huh hold od” Izuku excused himself fromt he conversation before grabbed several tissues and pressing them to his twitchy nose. The tickled appendage flared, and quivered up until the explosion.  “AATTIISHHIIIIEEW! hah’ADDDSHIIIEW!  AATTIISHHIIIIEEW! hah’ADDDSHIIIEW!  hahh! ! hah’ADDDSHIIIEW!  AATTIISHHIIIIEEW!” Sure they’d been classmates, and had obviously seen the green haired man sick before but jeez. His sneezes were never this loud! Poor guy sounded misserable as he grabbed for more tissues to try and clear himself up with a nose blow.  Multiple bless you’s came from the small group, looks of sympathy rained down upon their friend. “Please tell me your dumb ass at least took some fucking medicine before you left.” Katsuki growled, Deku just gave him a look that said ‘take a guess’. “i’b dot stupid Kaachad” “you are for dragging your ass to work” “whatever” “if you want I could make you some tea Deku, might help your cold.” Suggested Ochako, Izuku chuckled “y-you dod’t have to Ochako-” “Yeah well someone otta buy you a handkerchief. Damn deku who the fuck uses that many tissues in one go?!” “sh-shut up’b Kaachad-” Then breaking his silence todoroki says “I’ll be back”

Looking as the dual haired left with no context, the group was left confused. Izuku wondered if he’d grossed the other out or something. If so he’d feel horrible, he likes Shouto a lot and well still never go this feelings out during high school. 

“Crap’b I bmust’ve grossed hib out” “whatever, fucking christ blow your nose I can’t even understand you.” Katsuki pointed out, Ochako excused herself to make tea, luckily she didn’t have to leave Izuku’s office to do so. Izuku apologized as he grabbed a few tissues to blow his nose with again. 

Tea in hand, the four made conversation to try and distract Izuku. They didn’t really have anything important to attend to and it was nice to conversate so casually. Izuku still couldn’t get Shouto off of his mind, he kept that to himself. Shouto was so inexperienced with people and some times his naivety was a turn off to most people but. For Izuku he found it sad yet adorable, especially when it would give him a chance to explain things to the younger hero.  Back in high school, Izuku loved that Shouto’s fuel was to seperate himself from his father’s ideals even if his first way of going about it wasn’t working out. He admired it and was willing to help him succeed whether that meant convincing the man to use his fire. Or being that person Todoroki could vent to, and trust in.

Sure Todoroki was the number 3 hero, the man was content with it. Which made Izuku happy! What would make him even happier would be for Shouto to be his number one. Yet he didn’t think that would ever happen any time soon.  “yeah no that villain wasn’t too hard at all, it was-” The doors opened once again and in the entrance was Shouto, who was holding a grocery bag in hand. Had he gone shopping?! “Sh-shouto?” They all looked confused as the man came back to Izuku’s desk. Setting it down he blushed lightly. “i-I may have gotten you a few things, I-I thought they’d help.”  Silences as Shouto took a step back from the desk, all eyes were now on Deku to look through the bag.  

Three boxes of tissues, a few handkerchiefs, cold medicine, canned soup, and cough drops. Katsuki has been laughing ever since Deku pulled out the boxes of tissues and handkerchiefs. Earning himself a new nickname “Damn deku, Half n Half really declared you as the tissue king!” he cackled out with thunderous laughter. Izuku turned a bright shade of pink at his comment yet that didn’t stop him from thanking Shouto. “Th-thagks Shouto, v-very thoughtful of you” “y-you’re welcome, don’t hesitate to ask for anything else. It was nice to walk to the store.” “Dno, dno its fide thagks ady way, I would’t wadda ru-ruhhh”  “oh here we go again” 

Scrambling to grab more tissues, Deku ripped opened the fresh box and snatched up a bouquet of tissues and held them up to his face just in time to catch the fit. “ AATTIISHHIIIIEEW! hah’ADDDSHIIIEW!  AATTIISHHIIIIEEW! hah’ADDDSHIIIEW! hah’ADDDSHIIIEW!  hah’ADDDSHIIIEW!  AATTIISHHIIIIEEW! ugh s-so-” “you’re not done yet” Shouto replied softly, raising a confused brow, Izuku gave a small sniff which only concluded in Shouto being right. “ HATTTCHIEW”