GySgt. Roger Gentry @gunnyrodgentry - Tumblr Blog

sylviafm:

She felt like she was rambling. In fact, she knew she was. She was speaking and speaking and speaking and in between each excuse was an apology. It was somehow still a shock when he told her it wasn’t his property, and that ‘sorrys’ weren’t needed.

Large, wary eyes watched him as he offered her the towel and the clothing. She took them, not starting to dry and dress until he was turned. And for a moment, whilst he remained without a shirt, she watched the sinew of muscle move under his skin, the hidden strength beneath the shirt that covered him quite suddenly. She swallowed, looked down at herself, and then stripped off the wet shirt, wiping herself down of the river water and pulling on the boxers and new shirt she had been offered. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide the fact she was visibly still cold. She needed no more reason for people to stare at her on the way home. Pebbles nipples a la Rachel Greene would be the perfect example.

Her face heated in embarrassment as he offered her more money. She shook her head feverishly.

“No!” She attempted to calm her voice the moment she realised it was too loud in the small place. “No… I’m fine. I just… I like the woods. I like nature.” She excused herself lamely. “My apartment isn’t… I mean my water was shut off. But it’s fine - it’ll be like… turned on again whatever.” She shrugged a little self-consciously.

If she had mobile ears, they would have picked up at the note of being hungry. She nodded, smiling softly.

“A little.” She admitted.

Roger wasn’t remotely modest, he was ex-military, after all, but he didn’t want to send Sylvie running. When he slipped off his soaking wet briefs to pull on sweatpants, he was as fluid in motion as you could be with sweatpants and kept his back resolutely to her as he hiked the waistline up over his hips. He was real glad she couldn’t see his face when she said she liked nature and her water would be back on. He knew that wasn’t how it worked. You paid the bill, paid a deposit, and then the utility would be turned back on. He let that argument go for now and smiled when Sylvie said she was hungry. Roger finally turned around after picking up his wet underwear and tossing on the edge of his hamper to keep from getting his dirty laundry wet as it sat.

“Whatta ya like?” he asked with a lopsided grin and nodded to his TV dinner and beer. “Just because I eat like shit doesn’t mean I can’t whip something up.” Roger patted the old quilt he’d grabbed and licked his lower lip out of habit as he started for the kitchen. “Wrap up in this so you can get warm and I’ll see what I got to work with. Ain’t used to having people over. Most of what I spend on food is for Hank.” He was talking as he opened cabinets and looked around. “Damn dog has food allergies. Have to cook him some filets of salmon and bake some sweet potatoes every week.”

#sylviafm

What is one thing you have to do in order to have sex?

Get consent.

44 | Dom | Bi | Hot Rod's Auto Repair

closed

Roger didn’t plan to make a scene when he showed up to the after part at Nightingale. He actually never planned for this particular scene to even play out, but he was drunk enough and horny enough that it was happening.

“Darlin’, would you fetch the tequila, salt, and limes for body shots?” he murmured at a server near the bar and when they suddenly look terrified he chuckled. “Not for you, for him,” he said as he pointed to the librarian standing next to him and the next thing that Eddie probably knew, Roger had an arm around him. “He owes me one for a lube job I gave him,” Roger added and smirked as he let it hang in the air without confirming exactly what he meant. If Eddie wanted them to know he’d joked around with Roger after getting his car serviced and said he’d give Roger anything for the ten cents he was short? Well, then Eddie would tell them.

But Roger wasn’t.

@edwxrd-mxinlxnd

#edwxrd mxinlxnd

Someone had to convince him, but Roger ended up at the Harbor for the dance after the car show and was trying to avoid the dancefloor at all costs. His ex-wife had been a dancer and was like a fine burnin’ whisky when she dragged him into any space and moved their hips together. Those were the things he missed, how well they got along when they weren’t fighting and how she could push around the Dominant Marine better than any Lieutenant. He missed her often and usually he drank about the thoughts of her, but he’d never try to get her back again. He didn’t deserve a partner like that.

Roger thought on this as he walked with his beer to the seating at the pier and while look for an empty place to sit and brood, he eyes scanned one way and back the other to see full tables. Full, that is, except for man sitting alone with his back to the boisterous noise of the dancing and singing. Taking a swig of his beer, Roger swallowed and did what his wife would have done, at least in theory. He invited himself to take a seat across from the man, seeing now that other was definitely younger, and put his beer on the table as he pulled up the chair underneath him.

“Hey,” Roger said in his gruff tone and paused. “You waitin’ for someone or is this really how you’re chosin’ to spend your evening?”

@sammy-brinks

#sammy brinks

heartstrlngs:

She’s distracted - entirely and completely distracted. The water makes her feel calm, makes her feel better and, honestly, Victoria’s a pretty incredible swimmer. When she’s swimming, she doesn’t have to think about anything else. It’s quiet, it’s peaceful, there’s nothing to see or hear when she moves beneath the water with her eyes closed and her mind at ease.

This was her moment to enjoy and, yet, the universe felt the need to ruin it. Her feet find the bottom and she’s ready to simply get out of the water like a normal human being when something goes wrong ( the universe having a laugh, most likely ) and she trips. Suddenly her head’s underwater and her arms are reaching upwards and just as she’s about to stand back up, she hears someone coming her way and a voice tell her they’ve got her.

She has two options: look like an absolute fool and admit that she’s fine and just fell or, and hear her out, she could pretend to drown and not look like a total idiot. Naturally, she chooses the latter. Holding her breath as she allows herself to sink underwater once more, Victoria holds her arms above until she feels the man close enough that her arm can coil around his own and she lifts her head and takes a deep breath, coughing a couple times for added credibility. "Oh my God, thank you so much.” Coughs again, not that she needs to. “I’m sorry, this is embarrassing.”

Before they landed where Roger could help the person out of the water, he wasn’t even sure there would be a woman under all that beautiful hair because they were so lithe in his hold and he knew how strong these people could be as swimmers. And damn, this one didn’t even kick or move their body, they just sunk in his arms until they finally pull their head up, which was wild to him. His brow fretted as he watched them and he heard the usual coughing fit, but...

“Goddamn, if you were tryin’ to drown you’re doing a fine recovery on your breathin’, darlin’,” Roger grumbled. He helped push the hair away from the person’s face to reveal someone he doesn’t recognize. He took a step back and stared for a moment as they gasped and thanked Roger. Suspicious of the gratitude, Roger turned to Hank who trotted up to sniff the person he’d “saved” with all that racket.

Roger pressed his lips into a line and shook his head gently as he picked up his jeans, shirt, and sandals. “I got clothes, blankets, food, a hot shower -- whatever you need,” he offered before he fixed them with a stare and pointed at the waves breaking in the moonlight. “Don’t go back in the water. I don’t care how good you are. One strong rip current and you’re gone into the black.” Shaking his head again, Roger relented his tension and dropped his shoulders before heading toward his trailer and whistling sharply for Hank to follow.

#heartstrlngs

sylviafm:

She knew that voice - and he clearly knew her. Roger. She was naked in front of her boss, and she was just about ready to cry in ‘please don’t fire me I promise I have a home’.

Instead she reached out and accepted the shirt, pulling it on and plucking at it a little as it stuck to her damp and chilling skin. Her teeth chattered against one another as she stood on shaking, freezing legs, and followed him dutifully up to the house. Running now would be no good; she would see him at work tomorrow.

“I’m sorry.” She said as they entered the back door. “I didn’t know it was your property; I wouldn’t have-… If I- if I knew, I wouldn’t have bathed.” She insisted, not wanting to have offended him in any way.

Roger made a soft whistle with the corner of his mouth and Hank followed him to the bedroom. He rummaged around in the closet and frowned as Sylvie kept explaining herself in the next room. He emerged from the bedroom with a new shirt, a towel, a blanket, and something in plastic. “Here,” he said as he tossed the package to Sylvie -- 3 pairs of men’s size Medium boxers. He met her eye and shrugged. “My mom still thinks I’m 12,” he explained as he shut the bedroom door with Hank inside.

“I don’t really need to know why you were out there. That ain’t my property. My rental ends with the grass.” Next he handed over the towel and took the blanket to the couch to lay the fluffy thing over the back cushions. He then turned his back to her as he took his time putting on his shirt, giving her some semblance of decency. He was quite for several minutes before he spoke again.

“The Cove has actual showers as long as you wear some sandals and pull the curtain no one will know the difference. Water even gets warm.”

Another long pause. “If you need a raise, you just need to ask.” He tried to be as gentle as he could be with that. He was paying her twice the minimum but he knew how bad the housing could be around this town. Hell, he paid half a month’s pay just to rent the land where he’d put his trailer and the footprints weren’t much different.

“You hungry?”

#sylviafm

sylviafm:

A small swim? A quiet bath? Either one was comfortable with Sylvia. Her water had been shut off last week, and she wasn’t lasting much longer without a place to wash herself. She was shameless about it too - she’d been in and out of housing her whole life. Her mother couldn’t keep a job long, and now neither could she. She wondered often how long this receptionist post at the autoshop would last.

Stripping bare, she entered the water, gasping at shock and cold as she sank down and down and down. She was up to her shoulder by the time she pulled her shampoo bottle from the bag she had attached to her wrist and began washing her hair. Her conditioner was next and then her body wash, though she struggled to feel like she’d accomplished much when the water washed it away just as soon as she had put it on.

It was then she was grabbed around the waist and hauled away. A scream ripped from her throat, legs kicking and arms flailing. As soon as she hit the solid ground, she pulled her limbs close around her bare body, though. One for modesty but two for warmth. She was shivering, freshly washed, and scared.

“What do you want?” She asked, not looking up. “I have no money.”

As soon as they reached the surf, Roger picked the tiny flailing woman up and carried her to shore. He was going to launch into a speech about the dangers of being in the ocean at night, but then he realized he knew her.

“Sylvie?” he prompted as he wiped the saltwater off his face with a pull of his hand. He shook out his hair, but he also might have been shaking his head. He didn’t know which. “Come on, get inside and get dried off.” He was uncertain if he wanted to know what she was doing out there. He pushed his long-sleeved t-shirt toward her that should be enough to cover her but it wouldn’t do anything for the ocean’s chill.

Roger looked and gave Hank a whistle so the dog would follow them as he collected his wet jeans and sandals.

#sylviafm

mcgregor

👀 by Frank Castle and Billy Russo

#vanity #carson with slicked hair

open

Roger was withered with exhaustion. After putting in nearly twelve hours at the shop that day, he’d gone home to his trailer near the beach and stood in the shower long enough to rinse off a layer of the grime. Lava soap helped, but there wasn’t much to be done for the ever-present smell of fumes and petroleum that clung to him like it was his own musk. Having thrown on a long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, he’d fixed a microwave meals, Hungry Man or whatever shit he’d thrown in the cart that week, and sat down on his couch, legs wide and arm reaching over his head to turn on the modest television across the room. He cracked his can of beer and settled in to eat when his damn dog decide to go to the patio door that lead our to his spit-and-you’ll-miss-it yard that connected with the shabby, driftwood-covered beach.

“You had to wait until I opened the beer, huh?” he asked with a grunt as he rose and tossed the remote down on the couch as the television came to life on an old episode of MASH which was infinitely more tolerable than most of what was out there. The ex-Gunny got up and flipped some worn sandals onto his feet and slipped outside with his old dog Hank. He spent the next several minutes getting after Hank to quit playing around with the debris on the beach and to get over to the grass so the dog could do his business and Roger could get back to dinner.

That’s when he realized why Hank kept running up to the water and backing off with a few barks. He’d thought his dog was playing around because it never crossed his mind that someone idiot would be in the water at this hour. Then, he saw the head bobbing and the wave of a hand, and he didn’t know if they were drowning, but--

“Shit,” Roger dropped under his breath as he jogged forward. He tugged off his shirt as he dodged driftwood and was grumbling more expletives by the time he got to the water. He stripped off his jeans down to his white brief underwear and then he was running into the water, which was cold as fuck, thank you very much. When he got past waist deep, he dove forward and began to swim, the little waves hitting him like breaks of ice. He was nearly breathless by the time he got to the person, who he hooked with an arm, calling out, “I got ya, I got ya!” before he started toward shore where Hank was riled up enough that people from other trailers waiting for them.

#sc.start #// feel free to make up any plot you want #// or be a bystander even #tw drowning