#soft and gentle

[feraltwinkseb]

May 29, 2011 - Monte Carlo, Monaco Source: Vladimir Rys/Getty Images Europe

[sheena-is-a-punk-rocker]

Sometimes brains are assholes, and that's okay

Got a prompt request for a Rick sick fic with Harley taking care of him over on AO3 and this is what I came up with. Not your typical sick fic!

The apartment is dark when Harley gets back from her roller derby match—the first one Rick’s missed since she got out of prison. She’s trying not to be too broken up about it though, he told her before she left that he wasn’t feeling well and was gonna try to nap.

She drops her skates and padding by the front door and makes her way to the bedroom, expecting to find Rick dozing in bed. Except the only thing on the bed is the rumpled sheets that haven’t been touched since this morning.

She starts to panic. He wouldn’t just leave without telling her—that’s not like him.

The only option left is the bathroom. The door is ajar but the lights are off. “Rick? Baby, you in here?” she calls out cautiously as she flicks the lights on—trying not to imagine the worst.

“Ow!” she hears. “Too bright!”

She breathes a sigh of relief now that she can see Rick—who’d managed to squeeze all six foot one inch of himself into their tiny ass bathtub.

She turns the lights off and uses the moonlight shining through the bathroom window to find the tub. She kneels down and reaches out to touch his back. His shirt is soaked with sweat and he’s shaking a little bit. “You okay, hun?” she asks—immediately shifting into what Rick has dubbed her Doctor Mode.

“Migraine,” he grits out.

Ah yes, those pesky migraines he’s been having. Not surprising given the fact that he’s had four concussions since she met him—and that’s just on missions they were on together. He hasn’t had one in a while though.

“Baby, I thought your doctor gave you meds for those.”

“Ran out. Thought I had a refill but I don’t. I’ve been trying to get a hold of him to get an emergency refill but he won’t pick up the fucking phone—as usual. Fucker probably doesn’t even think I need ‘em. And eventually the headache got so bad that I ended up in here.”

Here, meaning where it’s darkest and coolest, she realizes.

“Did ya try the pharmacy?” she asks, as she runs a washcloth under the faucet.

“They won’t fucking refill it unless the doc pushes it through!” he yells, and then moans as another wave of nausea hits him.

She places the cold washcloth on the back of his neck and he lets out a sigh of relief.

“I’ll be right back, hun. Where’s your phone?”

“Living room, I think.”

She kisses his temple before leaving the bathroom. Time to yell at another doctor.

-------------------

Rick focuses on his breathing and trying not to vomit as Harley leaves to presumably yell at another one of his doctors. Honestly, as much as he appreciates her, he’s not really sure how much further she’ll get. He’d been on the phone with the pharmacy and doctor’s office for hours. They just kept putting him on hold.

“How’d I get your personal cell phone number? I’m Harley fucking Quinn, motherfucker! Now push the prescription through or I’ll break your kneecaps—pharmacy closes in an hour.”

Maybe he spoke too soon.

He hears her come back in and feels her fingers carding through his hair. “I’ll be right back, baby. Gotta go pick up your meds.”

The room continues to spin as he lays there pathetically in the bathtub. He’s not sure how long Harley’s gone for—could be hours for all he knows. He’s too nauseous to focus on anything but not puking.

“Sit up for me, hun.”

“I don’t wanna,” he moans. “Too dizzy.”

“I know, baby, I know. But I got your meds right here. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

It takes a monumental effort to sit up but he manages to do it. Harley hands him two pills and a glass of ice water. He throws the pills back obediently and then sinks back down to the floor of the tub, laying on his side since it’s so fucking tiny.

He hears some shuffling behind him and then Harley’s squeezing herself behind him, spooning up against his back and looping an arm around his chest. They both barely fit but instead of feeling claustrophobic he feels comforted, and safe.

“It should kick in faster since I gave ya two,” she says quietly—slipping a hand under his shirt to rub his chest and stomach softly.

He focuses on that feeling as he waits for the nausea to subside and his head to stop pounding.

Next thing he knows he’s being shaken awake. “C’mon, baby, let’s get ya into bed.”

“But I’m comfy,” he whines—and truly, he is. The most comfortable place he’s ever been is wrapped up in Harley’s arms.

“Baby you’re gonna hurt your neck if ya sleep in the tub.”

He complains the whole time but lets her pull him out of the tub, stumbling a little as the blood rushes back to all the right places. She catches him easily and guides him back to their bedroom in the dark. She sits him down on the bed and rummages around in one of his drawers for a pair of pajama pants that she throws at his head. He catches them and manages to change into them without too much trouble.

She ushers him under the covers and slides in behind him—spooning up against his back again and kissing the back of his neck. “Get some sleep, hun, I’m right here. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“Might need to knock me out with your baseball bat,” he jokes, even as his eyes drift shut.

“Shut the fuck up—I know you’re exhausted, asshole.”

He manages a small chuckle. Just before sleep claims him he feels Harley squeeze him around his middle and hears her whisper, “I love ya, baby.”

He’s too exhausted to echo the sentiment back but grabs her hand and squeezes it in response.

He falls asleep to the feeling of Harley’s breath on the back of his neck and her hand wrapped tightly in his.

[httpiastri]

idk if this is like weird or not but i’m curious as to what the drivers smell like as in like what cologne they use im just wildly curious

not that weird actually 🤭 ive been thinking about this tons too... just like imagining what they smell like....... i had ollie's cologne written up somewhere but i think i lost the note 😶

[peaceandnature]

🐰 check out @tunatuna___ on Instagram for more bunnies

[mishalogic]

Satisfied

Soft and gentle piano Hymns for the moment ... Misha

[paracosmoon]

[ann0yed-b0yfriend]

Do you think you can out smoke me? How cute, come, sit on my lap as you light it for me, let me praise you every time you take a bigger hit, let me put the joint in your mouth and force you to get too high, let me punish you each time you cough making you strip, or when i feel like it, you won't notice, you are too high and can only think about how much you crave my dick.

Let me stretch your holes in ways that sober you couldn't dream of, let me make you do disgusting things while you're so stoned you thank me for it and begg for more, let me make you experience so much pleasure that sober sex wouldn't be enough anymore.

Let me corrupt you, for both our pleasure.

[gabbigoodboy]

There's something so hot about the way someone says "god you're cute" when you do something silly and it's with the intention to completely ruin you. 😳

[wontyoubeg]

I love non-sexual signs of submission as much I love sexual ones.

Kneel for me, moan for me, beg to cum. After all, you look gorgeous on your knees pleading.

But also lay your head on my lap while we watch something, wear my clothes out, perform little acts of service just to show me how much you care.

After all, my claim over you isn’t just in the bedroom, so why should your services to me end there?

[emilysdiaryofficial]

Impie again~ ♡

[cutiechaser]

when you’re jerking someone off and you use your thumb to smear around the precum that’s leaking and you find the one spot under the head where they’re super sensitive and they let out a high pitched grunt/whimper, especially if their normal voice is a little deep??? Ugh inject that sound straight into my veins

[sheddr]

We can't escape each other

No matter how hard we try

I touch your hand — careful and in no way sudden

And drown in your green warming eyes

[pangur-and-grim]

he almost died, so now he’s allowed to be a brat forever

[contessalarue]

[distort-t]

SHY AFFECTION PROMPTS—

Walking side by side, the back of their fingers brushing—too shy to initiate hand-holding.

Teasing the tips of person B’s hair between their fingers, watching their fingers, unable to meet B’s gaze.

Subtle acts of service: opening a door for them, covering cornered edges when the other bends down to pick something up, purchasing something of the other’s interest.

”You look—uh, good. You look good.” Stammering, trying to appear confident when complimenting the other. Cue the throat clearing and avoidance of eye-contact.

Hesitant smiles and blushy cheeks.

Person A about to say something before thinking against it and closing their mouth.

Agonising slow-paced romance.

Person B sticking by person A’s side while they’re sick and stuck to bed rest, despite A’s warning of getting them sick too.

Thoughtful picnic dates.

Almost confessions.

”I care about you, and I want the best for you.”

Friends to lovers.

Looking for each other in social settings.

“You mean more to me than that.”

”Come on, we’re friends.” “Are we really?”

Angsty confessions after built up feelings being hidden.

Everyone can see it but them.

“We’re just friends!” “With how B is looking at you now? I don’t think you’re just friends.”

Starry night skies, damp grass, and deep talks about life.

B learning about A’s body insecurities and finding that it’s their favourite part of them.

Love-fuelled kisses under whispering nights.

So deeply in love that it almost makes their friends uncomfortable to witness.

Feathery forehead kisses.

Neither of them raise their voice—a love so gentle and kind that it makes your teeth rot.

Either one has social anxiety and the other orders for them at cafes and restaurants, or both of them do and one disregards their own anxiety and steps up.

Late nights cuddled up and quiet giggles.

”You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

”I want our kids to have your eyes.”

Inside jokes that literally no one understands.

[poltergirlst]