#slow down partner what kind of heathen do you think you are | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoseokisgucci · 4 years ago

Text

You Lift Me Up

GENRE: Fluff and Smut

WORD COUNT: 5K

PAIRING: Taehyung x Reader

SUMMARY: Taetae here sees OC at the gym, one day helps her out a little when she gets injured and somehow ends up in her bed.

WARNING: Tbh there’s some oral in there (fem receiving), some body worship, a lil of undiscovered kinks showing a sneak peek, penetrative sex, a little dialogue heavy, Taehyung being softboi max.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I originally uploaded this without the smut, but then deleted it, and now I’m putting it up again because I finally got around to finishing it. I definitely wanted to write something gym related because its my safe space but I really also wanted to make it soft because IM AN IDIOT FOR PEOPLE FALLING IN LOVE/FINDING THEIR PEOPLE.

“How different would it be anyways? I’ll just ask someone for help if I need it. It’s not like I’ll be abandoned by everyone just because I don’t have a partner.”

“Hey! We didn’t abandon you!! We have exams. Our university made you lonely, not us.” Your friend squawked over the phone.

Taking advantage of this new found chink in her armor, you added, “Yes. An institution is more important than I am. I see how it is. Hungry, partner-less and overcome with despair. That’s my life now.”

She huffed, and you could just imagine her shaking her head at you. “You’re a heathen. I’ll buy you food. Now bye. Duty calls.”

You laughed out an affirmative and slid the phone into the side pocket of your gym bag. The university gym was located close to your dorms, which made it easier for you to haul your ass to the gym even on your lazy days. You were already wondering what it would be like without a partner. You always had friends with you at the gym, be it one or two. You never had to worry about spotting or support ever before, but now these questions crossed your mind. Scenarios where you dropped a dumbbell on your toe or worse, your face flashed before your eyes. You shuddered when a haunting crack resounded in your ears, the sound reminding you to be wary of heavy lifting while you were on your own.

Getting started on your workout was easy enough. A little warmup here, a bit of running and cycling there. The music pumping through your ears helped you keep up the pace as you cycled, body starting to sweat, lips mouthing the words of the song playing through your earphones. When you hit the 15-minute mark, you figured it would be alright to cycle for 5 more minutes.

Just as the song changed, and you looked down to check if the lever for your seat was proper, your heart came up to your throat as someone tapped you. With your hand over your heart, legs coming to a stop, you turned to see the most gorgeous man ever. Scratch that. The most gorgeous being ever.

Lost in your head, you only came to when you realized that his lips were supposed to be forming coherent sentences. That were aimed at you. Raising your hand, your palm faced towards him, you said, “Wait, I can’t hear you.” His lips grimaced, as if embarrassed and he nodded his head. When you turned off your music, paused your timer and turned to look at him, torso twisting in his direction, his eyes quickly snapped to yours, as if he wasn’t just checking out the swell of your ass perched on the tiny cycle seat. You raised your brows at him, which probably kickstarted his brain again. He gulped and said,

“How long will you take?”

You were about to retort and tell him that there were other cycles too, but when you turned the other way, you saw that all of them were occupied.

“Maybe around 4 more minutes.” He nodded in response, gave a quick smile, and when he was about to turn away, you tapped his hand, grabbing his attention once more. You didn’t know why you felt good, having those eyes on you. You were probably going crazy, you imagination making you see the electricity in them.

Rethinking about your situation, you said, “Actually, I’ll get off. I was just going to do some extra cycling, but you can get started.”

He shook his head, curly hair bouncing around as he said, “No no, please take your time. I’ll just stretch some while you’re getting done.”

You nodded your head and smiled at him, hoping that he could understand how grateful you were. You got back to cycling, starting up the movement of your legs once again. Without the music to keep you occupied your eyes wandered to the mirror in front of you. As you scanned your surroundings, you noticed the guy from before, stretching his arms, gazed fixed on your form. The intensity with which he kept looking at you almost made your legs flounder, but you concentrated on maintaining your momentum.

Sighing inwardly, your eyes moved backed to him. He hadn’t noticed you looking at him, because he wasn’t focused on your face, but rather your ass. Wanting to add fuel to the fire, you stuck your ass out a little more and arched your back a little more, making your body look a little more tantalizing. As you did this, you could see his eyes widen a little, hands now hanging limp. You discreetly kept looking at him, and could see him scan your form, his gaze focusing on your face. You cycled a bit more aggressively, the motion moving you from side to side.

If he was watching, you might as well give him a good show. When you eyed him again, he was bent over, legs spread wide, hands touching the ground, stretching. But his eyes, they didn’t leave you, or rather, your butt, even once.

Your timer beeped, signaling the end of your 20 minutes. You slowed down your legs and sat there, catching your breath. When you looked at yourself in the mirror, your cheeks were flushed, sweat dotting your forehead and your face glistened. You looked thoroughly wrecked. He was still looking at you. You got off the cycle, walked to him and said, “Its all yours.”

He nodded, and you walked away. You breezed through the rest of the workout, mind occupied with thoughts of big hands and one beautiful man.

Through the next week, you kept seeing him at the gym, on a machine or doing a rep. You weren't ignoring him, per se, but what the hell would you go and say to him? "Hey I think you're pretty hot, come over and choke me?"

Definitely not.

A week without a partner goes by with no problems, but its like your beginner luck in the world of solo exercising has run out when you lose your balance while doing weighted squats. Even before starting the set, you were a bit worried, because the rod itself weighed 32 kgs, and you had added plates of 10 kgs. You never imagined that you'd get injured at the gym out of all places but, alas! Your time had come. When you felt that you had no control over the bar and your body anymore, you tried to brace yourself for impact, but two hands lifted the bar off of your shoulders, which allowed your body to gain some balance. When you looked at the mirror, you saw cycle dude holding the bar in his hands. You quickly turned around and helped him rack it.

With frantic eyes, he scans your body for any apparent injuries and asks,

"Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

"Uh no, I don’t think so. Just that, my knee might be a little sprained."

His eyes focus on your knee, hands out in front of him, ready to support you. You start walking, but you can feel a slight tinge in your right knee when you put pressure on it. The discomfort might show on your face, because he wraps your arm around his shoulder, and urges you to put your weight on him. He walks you to the bench and sits you down, your leg extended in front of you.

Squatting near your leg, fingers brushing the hair our of his eyes and off of his forehead, he asks,

"Can you call someone to take you home?"

You take a minute to think if there's anyone who actually could take you home at this moment. And you come up with no one. You tell him so.

Tentatively, eyes now darting here and there, he says

"Uh, would you mind if I dropped you off?"

You blurt out, "Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why would you do that? You don't even know me."

"Well I, uh, might have a small crush on you. Not in a creepy way! I just think you're kinda cute. And I would feel better if I knew you'd get home safely."

Welp. That's kinda endearing.

"Okay. Let's go."

He asks for your locker number, goes and gets both of your bags and comes to get you. For a few minutes, you walk with your arm around his

shoulder, half of your weight held up by him. Your pace is probably slower than a snail, what with you trying to clumsily hop and him trying to support you. He stops and says,

"Okay, let's get you on my back. You can point in what direction you wanna go and I'll carry you. It'll be faster and way better for you."

You try to protest but he's already hanging both of your bags around his neck and getting on his haunches in front of you, hands ready to hold your legs. So you climb on.

As he starts walking, he says,

"I'm Taehyung by the way, your beloved servant."

"Well, my dear servant, you shall call me princess then," you cheekily reply as you tighten your hold around his neck.

He laughs and shakes his head, huffing out, "Wow, the audacity."

"I'm sorry. Thank you so much, I'll be indebted to you forever. You're too kind," you sincerely say to him.

He just hums in response, so you leave it at that. Your dorm building isn't that far, so you make it there in no time. You get in the lift, and once it opens on your floor, you tell Taehyung your dorm number.

You tell him your door code, and he walks you in, going straight to your couch and sitting you down. He takes the bags from his neck and puts them aside. Next, he takes off your shoes and puts them near your door.

"Okay, do you mind if I check your fridge? Is there anything like an icepack? To put on your knee?"

"Yeah, there is an ice pack."

He grabs the ice pack, fills it with ice cubes and holds it on your knee. The freezing sensation

sends a twinge down your knee. He urges you to hold the ice pack and goes to the kitchen. When he comes back, he presses a glass of water to your lips, and you drink.

Once you're done, he sets the glass on the coffee table, and settles beside you, grabbing your leg and gently getting it on his lap, urging you to lie down, with your head resting on the armrest. He holds your leg with one hand, and tenderly ices your knee with the other. The action makes you relax your body, all the stress unwinding. Taehyung doesn't say anything, his eyes concentrated on your knee. Feeling the pain in your knee numbing, you close your eyes.

The next thing you know, Taehyung in shaking you awake, calling out your name in his low baritone. When you gain some semblance of consciousness, the first thing that you register is the fragrance of food. Your stomach grumbles, and Taehyung chuckles at you. He helps you sit up, and shoves a takeout box in your hand. You thank him and dig in. Once you're done, he cleans up and comes back to sit beside you.

"How are you feeling now?"

You flex your leg a little, and when it doesn't hurt that bad, you say, "It feels better. I'll just take a painkiller and knock out."

He nods his head, hand reaching out to feel over and around your knee. After being satisfied, he rests his hand on your knee, and looks at you. "I'm glad. Just be careful."

In a moment of courage, you rest your hand over his and say,

"I can't thank you enough. For getting me home, taking care of me, feeding me."

His eyes crinkle as he smiles, and he rests his other hand over yours, your palm now sandwiched between two of his. He leans closer to you, and whispers,

"You don't have to thank me, doll. But I can think of a few things you could do."

The way he says these words makes tingles run up your spine, the intent clear in eyes, made clearer by his words. You close your eyes and lean back on the sofa, knowing that Taehyung's eyes are fixed on you. The knowledge that this kind, breathtakingly beautiful man has a crush on you, and moreover wants you, gives you the confidence to act a little, if not more coy. With your head now tilted towards the ceiling and your eyes closed, you channel your inner heathen and say,

"And what would they be, hmm?"

When you hear him suck a breath in beside you, you smirk inwardly. You wait for him to say something, but he just retracts his hands from yours. This action makes you open your eyes and tilt your head to look at him, question clear in your gaze.

Just as you're about to sit up and say something, you're hit with a face full of Taehyung, and suddenly his palms are grabbing your face and his lips are on yours. The shock makes your eyes widen, but as you register what's going on, your eyes close and your hand fists his shirt as you kiss him back.

Taehyung's lips feel way better than you could ever imagine, and the warmth seeping into your skin from his palms makes this experience feel real, and not just fantasy. When his lips suck on your lower lip a little harder, you arch your back, your upper body lifting off the couch. This makes him slide one hand off of your cheek and around your waist, and he pulls your body closer to his.

At this point, he's basically straddling you. When his tongue probes your mouth, one of your hands grab the back of his hair and pull. The low groan he lets out as you disconnect from his mouth and start sucking on his neck makes you quiver, the thought of hearing the same baritone in your ear as he pounds into you making you want him even more. He parts from you, and as he sits up, your hands leave his body.

"What do you want?"

You bite your lip, and instead of answering, one of your hand rises to his waistband. Instantly, his hand grips yours, and as he smiles, he leans down to kiss your palm. Against it, he whispers,

"Want me to eat you out? Wanna cum on my tongue?"

You gulp at the thought of this man between your legs, and nod at him. Something in his face hardens, and he drops your hand, only to lean over you and grip your chin.

"Use your words, baby doll. What do you say?"

You maintain eye contact with him and whisper,

"Yes."

Though your answer makes him loosen his grip on your jaw, only makes him move closer to you.

"Yes what?"

"Yes sir."

At your answer, Taehyung's eyes widen, and then a smirk spreads across his face. His hands urge you out of your top, and he throws it over his shoulder, uncaring as to where it lands.

His eyes take you in, and in a second he's getting off you and pulling your leggings and underwear down your body. You struggle a little to lift your ass off the couch, a little pain shooting through your knee at the pressure. Taehyung makes you rest your injured leg straight on the coffee table. After making sure you're comfortable, he leans down you kiss you, on of his hands making their way to your tits. When he squeezes and twists a nipple, your body arches off the couch, legs spreading wider.

Once Taehyung's satisfied from claiming your mouth, he gets down on his knees in between your legs. For the first time, you see hesitation cross his eyes as he nibbles his lower lip. You lean up, and say,

"I want you. Please make me cum, please."

A smile blooms on his face, eyes lighting up as his hands move up your thighs. He leans forward, kissing up the inside of your left thigh, his hands squeezing where they hold you. After a few kisses, he suddenly bites, which makes you reach out to grip his hair as you moan.

Indifferent to your reaction, he moves forward, his hands widening your legs as he comes face to face with your core. Sounding absolutely wrecked, he says,

"Fuck I can't wait to taste you."

With this, he kisses your mound, and then spreads your outer lips.

"Holy shit, darling, it's all for me, right?"

You card your hands through his hair as you whisper an affirmative. Happy with your response, Taehyung leans in and envelops your clit in his lips, and sucks. Slowly, he starts making strokes with his tongue, delving deeper. He speeds up the motions of his tongue, now moving it in and out, and puts a finger in your core. The slide is tight, and it makes you both moan. But he doesn't stop, if anything, he gets even more determined.

Soon, he adds another finger and his tongue moves onto your clit. The added stimulation makes the knot in your core tighten, the arousal pulsing stronger in your veins. He takes his mouth off of your clit with a pop and leans back to see his fingers scissoring as they move inside you. You tilt your head down to take a look at him, and dear God above, he looks wrecked. His hair is all messed up, thanks to your fingers, and his lips are swollen and glistening, and you're pretty sure his chin is too.

Fuck.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as this visual ingrains itself in your eyes, a whimper falling from your mouth as you say,

"Fucking God, please fuck me. Want you so bad, please."

"I'll think about it if you cum like a good girl first."

His fingers speed up, and he leans down to capture you clit in his mouth again. This time, he's absolutely brutal with the way he goes at you, nothing gentle about his mouth or his fingers. Just as you feel yourself climbing up to a climax, he adds another finger, his tongue now flicking across your clit.

As you get closer to the finish line, your moans turn into curse words, your voice getting louder.

"Fucking Hell, Taehyung, don't stop! Shit! I'm s-so close, please, please, I'm gonna c-cum!"

Saying nothing Taehyung curves his fingers inside you as he lightly bites on your clit, and that's all it takes for you to let go. Your body pulls taut, legs shaking around him, hips riding his fingers. His fingers and his mouth guide you along your high, and even after you've come down, his mouth still keeps laving over your clit. You moan in oversensitivity and that's when he deems it enough.

He gets up, but groans out while straightening his legs. You giggle at his facial expression, and he stands over you, hands on his hips, mouth drawn into a pout.

"I just ate you out but you're laughing at me, huh?"

This makes you laugh out loud, and you say,

"Can't believe you're a grandpa."

His mouth falls open, flabbergasted. His mouth tries and fails to form a word, and his mouth just bubbles out a laugh. He's shaking his head as he takes off his tee, and throws it on the couch beside you. Oh you're definitely not laughing now.

"Well, this grandpa did get you off, baby doll. Now, where's the bedroom?"

He leans down to pick you up, his hands urging your thighs to wrap around his hips, your arms wrapping around his neck. You hold on tighter when he stands up straight with you in his arms. He leads you to the bedroom, kicking the door open and walking in. He lays you down on the duvet slowly, mindful of jostling your leg.

Once you're lying on the bed, he goes to get a pillow and puts it below your knee. You make eye contact with him, hoping your smile conveys how grateful you are. He smiles at you, expression shy. Pointing at the bedside table, you say,

"The condoms are in here."

He raises an eyebrow, but gets a condom and climbs on the bed. Once he's in between your legs, one of his hands knead your thigh, the action relaxing your muscles, making you let out a sigh. Seeing your reaction, he leans down to kiss your tummy, trailing light kisses down to your pelvis.

"You look so beautiful like this. So lovely."

His hand glides up your inner thigh, two fingers plunging into you without warning. He pulls out, only to push back in, your soft wet walls accommodating to his ministrations easily. When he doesn't hear you making a sound, he scissors his fingers, and starts sucking a hickey on your hipbone. A shiver runs through you, and you let out a whimper at the sudden influx of stimulus.

"Such a sweetheart, huh? Always ready to let me know how good I'm making you feel."

As he says this, he adds another finger, and the added stretch makes you arch off the bed. Soon, Taehyung has you moaning his name, your hands reaching out to hold onto the bedsheet. Taehyung slows down his fingers, and asks you,

"What do you want? Tell me. Tell me and I'll give it to you."

The husk in his voice makes you groan, the timber of it sending trills of arousal shooting through you.

"Want you to fuck me. Now. Right now."

Pulling his fingers out of you, he whispers, "Then that's what you'll get, baby."

He takes off his gym shorts and his underwear, his cock standing hard and proud, the tip glistening with precum. While stroking his cock, he says,

"Although everything in me is telling me to fuck you like the devil you are, I don't wanna add to your injuries. So let's have you wrap you legs around me, okay?"

Actually processing what he said, you try to move your leg, but the twinge of pain has you nodding your head in agreement.

Seeing your approval, he gives you a smile and tears open the condom. Your eyes trace him as he kneels between your legs. The soft curls falling into his eyes, the slope of his nose, adding to his charm. The strength visible in his shoulders, all the way down to his arms, makes you want things that can only be done behind closed doors. The thoughts of being manhandled, being pushed into the mattress as he takes you run through your head among other lust-filled scenarios, and these make you gulp.

Your eyes follow when he rolls the condom onto himself and strokes his cock in long motions.

His eyes, fall onto you, and seeing how you're entranced by, well, his dick, he chuckles. The sound makes your eyes flit to his, your cheeks already filling with colour, embarrassment flooding your mind.

Taehyung doesn't say anything, just urges your legs to wrap around his waist as he leans over you. That one moment of silence, where you and him are just two people, closer than ever, closer than any galaxies, any stars, seems to last for a lifetime. When he slightly smiles, one of his hands coming up to stroke your hair, you feel a storm brewing where you heart is meant to be. You smile back, and then Taehyung is thrusting into you, the stars in his eyes now clouded by lust.

The first few thrusts are slow, languid and have Taehyung's eyes flitting over your features, looking for any signs of discomfort. But when he finds none, he gains confidence, his hips moving with more purpose, plunging impossibly deeper into you. Your eyes close, head tilting up as your mouth lets out little moans mixed in with whimpers.

Taehyung's thrusts slow down into him just grinding his cock into you, and he grabs your chin to make you look at him.

"Look at me, baby. You feel so good, like heaven. Maybe even more divine than heaven itself."

The sincerity in his eyes as he says this makes your clench around him, throat choking on the words you want to say. You reach out a hand and put it on his shoulder, which makes him pause his movements. Worry flickers across his face as he waits for you to say something.

"G-go faster. Wanna cum. Right now. Please."

The worry on Taehyung's face quickly dissolves into cockiness as he positions himself to pound into you better. His smirk grows as his thrust gets a moan out of you. Continuing with his ministrations, he manages to grunt out,

"This good enough for you, doll?"

When you don't answer him, too busy whimpering, he leans over you and one of his hands reach out and twist your nipple in warning, hips maintaining their momentum.

"Think I asked a question, darling. Come on, now."

The hand you had on his shoulder moves up to the back of his head, and as your fingers entangle in his locks and pull, you say,

"Yes! Yes! Dear God, yes! F-feel good."

He doesn't verbally reply to you, but he hums, the low rumble of his voice making you feel some type of way.

One of his hands land near your head, the other one grabbing your thigh, and its pound town from there. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping on skin mixed in with Taehyung's grunts and your moans. The boy in between your legs turns into a beast chasing just one thing, and he doesn't slow down. The sound of sex resounds in the room, making you feel downright dirty.

Your eyes focus on Taehyung's face contorted in pleasure and his body glistening with a sheen of sweat. Maybe it's this realization, that you have this beautiful man fucking into you that pushes you closer to your climax.

When your walls start clenching around him, the ball of fire in the pit of your stomach so close to bursting, one of your hands reach down, two of your fingers rubbing your clit in desperation.

"That's it. Make yourself cum on my cock. Let me see you cum, baby. Wanna feel you cum for me."

His words are accompanied by his hips moving faster, hitting the spot inside you, making the fire in you unravel. Your back arches off the bed, mouth opening in a whimper as you cum, body drowning in pleasure.

Your walls tighten around Taehyung, making him let out a choked moan. With two, three more thrusts, Taehyung is cumming in the condom. He slumps on you, letting out puffs of air, catching his breath. When Taehyung taps both of your legs gently, you remember that they've been there this whole time, and, holy shit, your fucking knee was fucking sprained. Taehyung, apparently has the same realization, because his concerned wide eyes lock with yours and he slowly untangles your legs. Your knee gives a twinge in protest to movement but as soon as it's straight and on the bed, you feel fine. Taehyung pulls out, and ties the condom off, getting up to go and throw it in the bin.

When he comes back, it's to you playing with your fingers running circles on your navel. You stop your actions when you realize he's back in the room, your cheeks flushing a little in embarrassment. Taehyung mumbles a 'cute' but doesn't say anything else.

Taehyung has a wet towel in one hand, with which he gently wipes between your legs. And when he's done, he leans down to leave a kiss on your forehead, and then he's gone again. Your eyes follow his bubble butt as he leaves the room.

Exhaustion seeps into your bones, and your eyes close. They only open to the sound of something being set down on the bedside table. You open your eyes and turn your head to see that it's a glass of water, and Taehyung, Taehyung is wearing shorts again.

You sit up, grabbing the glass and gulping down the water. The thought that you're still completely naked makes you feel shy, even after all of the things you just did. Taehyung sits

beside you on the bed, taking the glass from your hand and putting it on the table.

"Uhm.."

"I ju-"

Both of you shut up, but when you lock eyes with each other, laughter spills out of you. With a smile on his face, Taehyung speaks first.

"What were you going to say?"

You think for a moment, wondering if what you're about to say will sound weird or not.

"Uh, just that, do you want to stay over?"

With disbelief painting his face, Taehyung asks, "You want me to?"

You try to keep the endearment out of your voice as you deadpan, "Oh no, the monster under my bed just liked your feet and told me to ask you to stay longer."

It takes a moment for your words to register, but when Taehyung realizes what you just said, laughter tumbles from his lips.

Your concerned friends knock on your door the next morning, and a clueless Taehyung opens the door to let them in. Your friends barge in to find you wrapped in a blanket, lying on the couch, Haikyuu! playing on your TV. Taehyung just stands there, neck full of hickies, rampant sex hair, smelling like your body wash.

Your friends look at you for a moment, then turn to Taehyung only to turn back to you. When one of them asks you what the hell you've been doing yesterday and where you've been, you lock eyes with Taehyung as you smugly say,

"What can I even say? It was one heck of a workout."

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfiction #taehyung x you #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung #bts fluff #smut and fluff #kim taetae #this is filth #this is also cute #taehyung #bts tae tae #bts #bts fic #bts fanclub #dont hate me

251 notes · View notes

xwing-baby · 3 years ago

Text

Living The Dream (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

For #WriterWednesday hosted by @autumnleaves1991-blog

Summary: A new house, dog and a baby on the way, Javier’s life couldn’t get any more perfect... its a dream come true.

Word count: 1.6k (good things come in small packages)

Warnings: Angst (cus duh), blood and injury description, mentions of pregnancy, dog death, hardly edited.

Masterlist

—

A tiny little house in the country, with a dog and a child on the way, was not how Javier thought his year would end but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

In the chaotic and dangerous life he led he never thought he would settle for more than two minutes let alone marry someone. You’d snuck up on him, coming out of nowhere to drag him into domesticity. Drag is the wrong word because he willingly went despite how much he pretended to drag his feet. He fell into it comfortably, he was even the one to suggest the house in the first place. You were happy in his apartment in Bogotá but Javier traded you a dog and you couldn’t say no.

A house, a girl, a dog. All he had ever wanted. Everything he swore he did not deserve but he could not imagine anything else now. Everything felt a little more manageable when he could come home to you. His own little oasis away from all the devils that haunted him in Bogotá or Medellín .

Javier planned to show Steve the new house on the drive back into Bogotá . You’d moved in a few weeks ago and everything was basically unpacked now, Javi was desperate to show off to his partner and could barely wipe the smile from his face as he pulled in.

The house was an old farmhouse, covered in iconic white plaster and red tile. The surrounding farm land had been sold off years ago, but left the house with a sizable garden around it to do whatever you wanted. There was enough for the baby to happily grow up and play in when the time came, for now the dog just chased rats through the long grass.

It was a mess when you bought it, but you were handy enough to get on with decorating and fixing up holes in walls while Javier was away working. He loved that part. Though he never admitted it, he always worried about you when you were working in the city. He never knew where you were until you came home. It was a lot easier to keep you safe, in his mind, with you at the house all day. You had done a fantastic job. For someone who claimed to have never even painted a wall before, the house was looking nice. It was becoming a home.

He called your name as he entered expecting to hear your music floating through the house. Instead he was met with silence.

“Must be asleep,” Javi said to Steve, “Pregnancies kicking her ass already,”

“Still can’t believe you’re gunna be a dad, man,” Steve clapped him on the shoulder, “I’ll get Connie to give y’all some baby books when she comes over,”

The two men chatted about the house, the baby, and everything else that had once seemed so out of the question for Javier but was now commonplace. He pulled beers from the fridge, cracking each open before sliding it across the patio table to sit and enjoy in the sunshine. They didn’t have anything to get back to urgently. The stop was justified and needed.

“Where’s that mutt of yours?” Steve asked looking around. In the weeks before the house was liveable, Javi had kept the dog at the apartment and used the Murphy’s as dog sitters whenever needed. Steve was excited to begin with but became a little more ambivalent when he ate his shoes one day. He was very happy when you moved him out to the house permanently.

“Must be with Y/n, they’re inseparable at the moment. In fact I will go check on her, she’ll be pissed if you leave without her seeing you,” Javier emptied his bottle and stood up. Steve chuckled and nodded.

Javier hadn’t been around the house as much as you had. Every time he had been you’d been close by making some kind of noise, a radio on somewhere in the house playing music with you singing along to it. He wasn’t used to it being quiet. It made the whole house seem so much bigger.

He walked upstairs to your bedroom, noticing the photos you had put up while he was gone. Simple wooden frames held photos from your wedding, photos of your family, and his favourite photo of you and him, taken by Steve candidly on the first day you had met. No one knew then just what would come from that one conversation but he was so happy it had led him here.

He pulled himself out of the fond memory and continued along the hall to your shared bedroom. The door was open, sunlight streaming in through half drawn curtains, the entire house was still. He smiled to himself, knowing that behind the door would be one of his favourite sights. He did not doubt that he would find Ringo, the dog, and you curled up on the bed. As much as Javi protested that the dog couldn’t sleep in your bed he knew you let him in as soon as he left in the morning.

Javier called your name again, listening carefully as he crept into the room. A full laundry basket sat on the floor, underwear and socks scattered the wooden floor boards. The drawers were open. You never left things untidy like that. Javier wasn’t the most untidy person in the world but you kept everything pristine. You wouldn’t just take a nap mid task. He frowned and touched the door to push it open.

“Peña!” Steve suddenly called urgently from downstairs. Javi knew that tone, instantly putting him on alert. You could wait for a moment. Javier stopped and turned back, leaving the door as it was and jogged back downstairs.

He came outside to see Steve, white as a sheet with grief written across his face.

“What is the-,” Javier started as he walked towards his partner. Steve brought him around the side of the house and Javi looked down and saw what was bothering him, “Oh fuck,” Javi swore the entire world stopped in that moment. Poor Ringo, shot in the head where he stood around the side of the house, just left without a care on the ground.

“I found him like that I swear! I am so sorry man,” Steve quickly explained. Javier wasn’t listening, couldn’t hear anything but alarm bells, his mind only thinking of one thing. You.

In a second Javier turned and ran back inside the house, picking up his gun from the kitchen counter where he’d left it. Steve followed quickly, keen on his heels. Javier knew exactly where to look, running up the stairs three at a time. He barrelled into your shared bedroom, praying that you were asleep and the dog was just an accident.

If his world had slowed at the sight of the dog the entire universe had stopped now.

He couldn’t move his feet, mouth agape in total shock at the sight before him.

There was blood everywhere. On the bed, on the walls, even on the ceiling. Three bullets marked the walls behind the headboard. So much blood. He didn’t understand how he had not smelt it when he was outside a few moments earlier.

They had not been kind in your death, three shots to the stomach meant you did not die quickly. You were sprawled out on top of the sheets, still in your pyjamas. The white shirt you wore, Javi’s shirt, was now deep red, soaked through. There was a handprint dragged over the landline phone on your bedside table, glass and book knocked over in your effort to call for help. You hand still reached for it, so close yet so far.

Steve heard his cry of agony and ran in. He saw you, then Javi, and his heart sank. You were dead, there was nothing he could do now but he had to get Javier up. He pulled at his shirt trying to get him to move but was only met with violence as he ripped himself out of Steve’s grip away.

“Javi,”

“Javier! Wake up!”

Javier’s eyes finally opened, his chest heaving and covered in sweat he was dazed for a moment before he finally looked at you. Your heart broke at the sight. He looked at you with such terror in his eyes, you didn’t have a chance to say anything before he grabbed you and pulled you in tight to his chest.

“It was just a dream,” You comforted him, “It’s okay,”

He took a deep but shaking breath, taking in the scent of your hair. He didn’t speak. Couldn’t. It felt so real.

Slowly, he let you go and sat up wiping his hands over his face to clear the tears on his cheeks. He looked around him. He was in his apartment, three am on the clock. There was no dog, no baby, no new house. No body. It was just a dream.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, sitting up with him and putting a hand on his shoulder, lightly rubbing his warm skin. He shook his head.

“It was just a dream,” He said softly.

The reality was he couldn’t afford to give you that vulnerability yet. He couldn’t let you know just how much he liked you for exactly the reason his dream had shown him. He was dangerous to be around. If you stayed, while it would be nice for a while, someone would pull the rug out from underneath you both eventually. It could only end in disaster. He would rather keep you at a distance, emotionally at least, so when that day came it would maybe hurt a little less.

He settled back down again, pulled you closer with your head on his chest. He could have you for now, like this, and let his imagination run wild with ideas of a picket fence future. But, to protect you that was all it could ever be. A dream.

—

A/n: I don’t know what is wrong with me... I am sorry Javi one day I will write something nice for you but today is not that day.

tagging: @autumnleaves1991-blog @hunters-heathen @beskarbabs @wille-zarr @all-hallows-evie

#writer wednesday #javier pena x reader #javi x reader #javier pena x f!reader #javi x f!reader #javier pena x you #javier pena drabble #narcos x reader #agent pena x reader #pena x reader #steve murphy x reader #narcos #javier pena #steve murphy #tw dog death #tw major character death #molly writes

116 notes · View notes

fakeloveaskblog · 3 years ago

Note

Yay lasertag!!! Janus you should totally go visit Remus on the weekend and hang out! Also, maybe invite Remy too, if they wanna come. Then (specially if they don't show) you can plan with them both to maybe go on another hangout with Remus but to somewhere you like and let Remy tag along for the ride if they wanna while u're at it.

(Words: 3153 words)

Janus: "Ah yes! I will let you know that after hanging out with Remus I managed to use my incredible totally very good texting skills to ask the Rems if they wanted to go to an art museum and they both for some reaosn, maybe they are being blackmailed, said yes! I hope it will go g-"

He cut himself off as he saw the two Rems come towards him. He had been waiting outside the museum. (Honestly half the reason he had choosen it was because he knew Remus liked art)

Remus waved at him while grinning. He had on sweatpants, a way too large t-shirt and a necklace made out of animal bones. Remy had their arm swung around him. Even though they had sunglasses on their eyebags were still visible.

“Aight gamers! Are we ready to do an epic art heist!! I got my sunglasses ready!” Remus exclaimed. He didn’t, he was planning on stealing Remy’s sunglasses.

“Partner you’re forgetting that we must first observe the security measures of the museum before we can even start to plan the heist” Janus replied.

“Oh!!! That’s what we’re doing today isn’t it??”

“Correct partner!”

“Babes I dunno why you gotta steal art when I’m standing right here” Remy added while posing.

“Good point. Good point”

Janus had on a yellow bowtie he’d gotten from Logan, a loose purple shirt and black dress pants. People had to look fancy when they went to museums right? Remy had a skirt short enough to fool god and their boyfriend’s hoodie on (it looked oversized on them but with how skinny they were Everything looked oversized on them).

As soon as they got in Remus started to bounce up and down as he looked at the posters showing all the different exhibitions. There was a modern art one, classical and one smaller exhibition for specifically mosaic works.

“So whatcha you wanna look at Snakey?” Remus asked.

Janus was caught of guard “Why are you asking me?”

“Well you chose how we would hang out. C’mon you deserve to choose this too”

He looked over to Remy who shrugged “Uhm okay. Well. The classical paintings would proably give us the most money on the black market so lets look at those”

“Yay!”

Remus quickly took on his noise canceling headphones and a chew necklace before doing thumbs up. He firmly took Janus’ hand in his. He sent him a soft smile which made Jan’s heart spin before dashing of with him into the exhibition.

A few big paintings from the renaissance hung on the wall. Remy came a little later since with the cane they walked pretty slow. Remus eyed the paintings from a distance before squinting at them up close. He flapped the hand he was hoding Janus with around.

"Oh!!! This is so cool!!!! This is from the renaissance but it's not using the chiaro oscuro technique like everyone did 'cause Da Vinci would eat their newborn if they didnt!”

"Is that why it's looking flatter than me?" Remy asked.

“YEah!! Augh I love the renaissance!!! Mostly because they were dissecting bodies so much!! sometimes for the sole purpose of drawing anatomy better!! I wanna do that! Or watch someone do that! Getting to see one of those old classrooms where they dissected corpses would be so awesome!”

“Huh good way to get rid of bodies. Great time for serial killers” Janus commented.

He let out a dreamy sigh “It truly was. They’re doing serial killers dirty nowadays”

They went through some more rooms of renaissance paintings. Janus made sure to hold Remus back a bit so Remy could keep up with them. The duke kept rambling about different shading techniques.

They stepped into another room and the style changed. Remus continued to flap his hand nonetheless. Janus was definitely going to have pain in his wrist tomorrow. It was worth it if he could hold his hand though.

Remy leaned their elbow on top of Janus’ head “This is like the baroque time right?”

“YEah!” Remus’ eyes went huge “Bean you didn’t tell me you were into art history??! Do you know about Ruben too?? I like how he paints butts!”

“What? Nah. I just- I can like see it on the clothes in the paintings. Can’t you?”

“Do I look like a time traveling fashiong guru” Janus replied sarcastically “That is honestly impressive”

Remy sunk in on themself and a hint of red appeared on their cheeks “No. Nah. I’m like a total airhead! Completel idiot! hehe I’m like tots sure everyone knows this stuff. Y’all are just bad at fashion. I uh anyway Rem you were gonna rant?”

“I was?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh....Okay!!” He looked around the room before getting caught on a small painting in the corner. He dashed over to it “HANds!”

The painting depicted 2 bloody hands over a table. They were holding onto each other. the red stuck out against the dark background. It was hard to see if they were supposed to belong to two people who were fighting or in love.

Remus looked down at Janus’ hand while playing with his fingers “I think my favorite body part are hands” He mumbled “I mean they’re horseshit to draw but they can do so much”

Janus looked away from the painting as well. He let his crush do whatever he wanted with his hand as long as he kept holding it. the way he held him so lightly but kept rubbing his thumb up and down his skin made him melt.

“Yeah they can do a lot of fucked up shit” Remy butted in. Jan nearly jumped. He’d completely lost himself in adoring his crush.

“Well hands can also be used to give snakes small berries! And to make coffee!”

“Girl I wasn’t starting an argument. But you sure did won it!”

Remus was staring down into the floor as he said “When I become a cannibal I would wanna try eating human fingers first. I’m sure they would be tasty”

“Why was there a when in there?” Jan asked in a small amount of terror.

“Oh yeah babe totally. I will like actually eat a dick” Remy agreed.

“Why is there a will in there? What kind of time tenses are you people on?? Does english grammar mean nothing to you heathens!?”

Remy got a smug look on their face. They poked their finger right into Janus’ chest “C’mon say what you will eat when you become a cannibal”

“Yeah Snakey” Remus squished his cheeks “Say it! Say it! Say it!”

The two of them kept going on while Janus looked like a sour lemon until he finally caved in.

“Fine. I would either eat the stomach or....the buttocks since they would have the most fat and sustain me the longest”

The Rems looked at each other before bursting out into laughter. “He said butT!” Remus cackled out. The other Rem nodded along and pretended to wipe away a tear from laughter.

“Aight babe let’s put the guy out of his misery”

They motioned for Remus to go ahead. He happily skipped into the next room and grabbed Jan’s hand to take him with him. The snake couldn’t help but notice how Remy stayed behind for a monent.

“Oh cool!! We’re onto impressionism! The first real art style!” He sighed “From impressionism to cartoon furries. How magical the journey of art is”

(Jan who had a scaley phase in high school chose to not reply)

“I love the music as well. Crazy lads. My favorite lad?” Remus snickered “De bussy!!”

“That’s my porn name” Remy instantly replied, coming up behind them. “Hey that paint lady kinda like looks like Terra” They pointed at a painting.

“....Hey YEaH! I guess my art is timeless!”

Janus looked between them “who’s Terra?”

“Well girl” Remy playfully ruffled Remus’ hair “She’s just Rem’s tots cool like cartoon character. She’s like all over his sketchbook. Makes it look kinda straight if you ask me but she does have like a very cool design so I get it!”

“Oh......Yes...Sounds very....cool”

The group kept going around looking at art. While it felt like lead was filling Janus’ chest. He’d never heard about Terra. He’d never seen his sketchbook. Meaning they had spent time with each other without him.

He pierced his nails into his palms to stop the thoughts. He refused to be some jealous person who didn’t allow his friends to hang out without him.....Still he wish he could have seen the drawings as well....seen them smile together...heard their shared laughter....

Oh. Oh what if they thought he was annoying. What if they preferred being without him. What if he’d forced them to come here today. What if-

“Hey snakey wanna look at the modern art as well?” Remus interrupted.

“What?”

Without realizing they’d gone through all of the classic art. Now they were in the last room with not much more than a giant painting the size of one of the walls and a bench.

“That sounds horrid!”

“Yay!”

Remus quickly continued of into the next exhibition. Janus still had the taste of lead filling his throat as he went to follow. Until he realized Remy wasn’t there. He turned around and saw them sitting on the bench in front of the painting. They were leaning their arms on their cane.

“It would probably give us a lot on the black market” Jan said while sitting down beside them.

“Mhm. It’s pretty. I just like wanted to look at it some more” They lied.

“Understandable”

The painting was pretty much a big flower field with a summer sky shining down on it. Janus noticed how Remy forced deep breathes through their gritted teeth. Their brows were furrowed and their hands kept shaking.

“Are you alright?”

“Of course!”

“I have some painkillers with me. Would that help agains the pain you’re totally not in?”

They glanced over to him “Girl what you doing walking around with painkillers?”

He looked at them with the most deadpan expression “Remy I’m overweight. You can not phantom how often I get knee pain" He took out a pill and held it out to them "Here"

"There's really like no need! I can like handle it"

Even more deadpan "You shouldn’t have to ‘handle it’. It's 1 painkiller dear. I'm not exactly becoming a saint because of this"

They hesitantly took it "Thanks"

He did fingerguns "No problemo"

They stayed sitting for a bit so the pill could kick in. Jan shuly glanced over to admire them every now and then. Remy kept looking down into the floor while picking at their skin.

“I’m sorry” They said it in a much quieter voice than their usual high pitched one “I tried to do everything right so I wouldn’t ruin everything. I even went to bed early so I wouldn’t get tired....I...I really looked forward to getting to be with you two”

Janus heart beat faster. He pulled himself together to comfort them “You haven’t ruined a thing”

They hid their face in their hands “I’ve been tired and out of it all day. I keep like slowing you down. Don’t think I haven’t like noticed how much you have to hold Rem back from going faster! I’ve just been making this all much worse than it should have been”

“Well you’re here aren’t you? I for one appreciate you simply being here. You don’t have to do anything to make me appreciate you, don’t even have to talk. I hope you know that”

“....really?”

“Oh no darling I totally expect you to win the nobel prize while in a kind of pain I can’t even imagine being in on a daily basis”

Remy chuckled “Thanks”

“There’s really no need for that. I am at any and all times doing the absolute minimum to be counted as a decent human being”

“Sure snakey-babey” They had a soft smile on their face.

They moved to hug him. Their arms wrapped around his back and they muffled their head right between his man titties. Janus sat still for a few seconds, too flustered to think before moving his arms around them as well. A hand on the back of their head, another on their lower back. Their skin felt so cold against his.

Remy closed their eyes and let themself calm down. They could feel Janus’ breathing against their hair.

“I think my fav like human part is the chest” They mumbled out “‘Cause I can hear the heart beat. It reminds me I’m- we’re still like alive”

“Like a bloody biological seashell”

“Exactly” They pressed themself closer. “I like being with you” It was nothing more than a whisper, like it was a secret “When you’re here I feel a bit less like a rotting corpse”

Janus held onto them harder “Well I-I try my best”

“I know babe”

His heart was beating out of his chest. The people around them must think they were a couple. He closed his eyes and focused on Remy’s touch, on Picani’s words from their last session. He managed to push enough of the shame away and focus on the happy butterflies in his stomach instead.

Remy moved away. The moment broke.

“We should probs go find Rem before he starts like eating the art”

“haha yeah” Janus did thumbs up but kept sitting. He’d gone full idiot.

It wasn’t until he saw Remy straining to stand up even with the cane his brain kicked back in.

“Is there some way I could help?”

They didn’t answer. But they did lean their arm around his shoulder to let him carry some of their weight. They slowly but surely made their way to the modern art exhibition.

Remus was sitting crosslegged in front of a weird statue, he was doodling in his sketchbook but shone up into a smile when he saw them.

“There you are! I was starting to think that either the zombie apocalypse had started or you were making out somehwere”

“Oh yeah babe. Full tounge” Remy joked back. Jan let out an inhumane noise.

He closed his sketchbook “I think we’re done here. You’re looking tired beanie. We can come back some other day”

Remy held back the urge to lie that they were fine. Instead they weakly nodded.

The gang left the museum. Right beside it was an ice cream shop. Remus got 3 scoops of a worryingly weird mix of flavors. Janus got 1 scoop of lemon. Remy didn’t feel like eating.

They sat down on a couple of benches right outside. Remy laid down with their head leaned onto Remus’ thigh. He chewed his ice cream while calmly moving his hand up and down their back.

Soon enough they were deep asleep. Janus quickly laid his jacket over their legs. He didn’t want to accidentally see anything under their skirt without their consent.

Remus stared at him like a blood sucking eagle while smiling “Soooo now when beanie is in dream land.......Do” He stopped to giggle “Janny. Janny. Do. Do you like someooooonnneee??”

Janus just blinked at him for half a minute. This was too much. This whole day was too much. He was a wreck. His crush was asking him THis?! While his other crush was laying in his crush’s lap?!?

“Why- Why- What- Who are you working for?! The fucking FBI??? Are they after me?” He desperately tried to joke it away.

“No. No. But seriously JanJan!” He wiggled his shoulders around in a stimmy way “Do you happen to like anyone with a name that starts on R????”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Janus kept glancing between his two crushes while his blushing could be seen out into space. He wanted to lie but his mouth wouldn’t move.

Remus leaned closer and whispered “You’re into Remy right?”

He nodded. A breathe of relief went through him. At least Remus didn’t know he liked him.

“OH I KNEW IT!” Remus yelled out in excitement while flapping his hands.

“Shh! Shh!” Janus scrambled to cover his mouth as Remy stirred for a moment. “Shhhh!” They cuddled closer to their friend and fell back asleep.

“I knew it!” He giggled “Or I mean Remy knew. They told me they thought you were into them”

“WHAT?!”

Now it was Remus that covered his mouth. He was full on cackling “Yeah! They said it was really obvious! But good for you snakey! I’m sure if you murder their boyfriend you can get them in no time! Or you can become a fab homewrecker!! I can help you buy a nice sexy dress and all!!”

Janus paled in terror “How- In- What- In what way did they say it was obvious?”

“Oh y’know-”

The notif on his phone went off. He checked and his eyes went wide. He carefully moved Remy’s head onto the bench before standing up.

“Sorry snakey! Ro needs super duper emergency help! Gotta go!! See you later! Don’t die!”

Remus left him just like that. Right after dropping THAT bomb on him. Janus sat unmoving. His mouth was slightly agape in shock. His thoughts were runnig around screaming nonstop.

He sat like that for over 20 minutes until Remy let out a yawn and slowly woke up. They took off their sunglasses to rub their eyes. Just seeing their vibrantly green eyes made Janus panic even more.

“Did Rem disintegrate?” Their voice was hoarse from sleepyness. Janus pinched himself to hold back the uhm feelings.

“He- he uh he went he went he sure did went yeah”

“....Cool!”

They stretched their joints, they all cracked. They looked to Janus and moved closer. He couldn’t breathe. They knew. They knew. They knew.

“Girl are you feeling okay?” They pressed their palm to his forehead “You’re like super hot. In both ways! Maybe you should like go home and rest. I gotta get home before my boyf gets home anyway”

“Y-yeah” Was all Janus could get out.

“Cool. OH! By the way! Girl!!! We haven’t like hung out just the two of us right?? We should tots do that! Just like tell me whatever you wanna do and we can do it!”

“Yeah”

“Awesome! Well I’ll see you on that hang out then”

They hugged him for just a few seconds but for those seconds Janus felt like he was in heaven.

They got up and left. Janus slumped over on the bench. His heart was going crazy. They knew. They knew and now they wanted to hang out alone with him. He turned to you. His eyes were wide and panicked.

Janus: “W-what am I supposed to do? I don’t know any good hang out plans! Do you know any??? I’m- this is all- how did they even know I like them! Oh I’m sounding like an overdramatic 13 year old.....This totally isn’t really overwhelming. I would hate getting Logan cuddles right now!”

#thanks for the ask!!#im sorry these keep getting longer #i really do try to cut them down #dukeceit #demus #janus sanders #remus sanders #remy sanders #mini fic #sanders sides #desleep #desleepmus #dukeceitsleep

13 notes · View notes

icollectyoursins · 4 years ago

Text

Muhammad Avdol SFW/Not SFW headcanons

Misfortune26 asked for this on AO3 and who am I do deny them!

Like always, I tried my best to keep this gender neutral. Please tell me if there’s any ways I can improve! I’d be happy to hear your thoughts!

DISCLAIMER Please don’t do any of the more dangerous stuff on your own (ie. wax play, fire play, shibari even, depending on how far you go). They can be extremely dangerous and in the case of wax play, there are specific candles you can buy for sexual pleasure. DO NOT USE A REGULAR CANDLE. And with fire play, you must be with a partner if you’re just starting out and, hell, even if you’re experienced. It’s hard to put out a large fire when you are the large fire. Also keep in mind that everyone’s skin reacts differently to different stimulus, always test it safely before you get into an actual scene with fire play. Do your research. It does not take long to go into google and find out the dangers of edge play or any kind of play for that matter. Thank you.

-Sin

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNGINGS: Blow jobs under a desk, wax play, cock warming, massages with a happy ending, light shibari mention, fire play, fun dates with Avdol, brief mention of wine tasting, general wholesomeness with Avdol.

Word Count: 1981

SFW

Avdol is so sweet. He loves energizing or exciting dates, so he’ll likely take you out to a new restaurant with cuisine he’s never heard of and then go to the park or something along those lines; something fun and exciting. Or to festivals! Carnivals too.

He’d ask Joseph and Polnareff where to take you to have more fun, but they only offer romantic things or things that are out of his comfort zone, so he resorts to asking Jotaro, who tells him the aquarium is always nice. Or a walk down the street to find new vendors and such.

He settles on taking you to the aquarium and list off what he knows about fish that he’s learned from Jotaro that he thinks will impress you. You impress him even more by telling him something he doesn’t know. His favourite part is seeing you smile at him. And the stingrays. Definitely the stingrays.

If there’s a tunnel to go through, he will 100% memorize the way the light looks on your skin. The way it compliments your hair and dances in your eyes. Breathtaking. He pulls you into a soft kiss, brushing your hair out of your face and holding you close. Then, he’s glued to your hip the rest of the tour.

LOVES wine tastings. He doesn’t get too drunk, what are you talking about? Giggles every time you smile at him. You just make him happy.

When at home, you share the chores. He’ll do the ones you don’t want to do, and you can do what he doesn’t want to do (I mean, he’s okay to do whatever, but you’ve gotta make it fair, right?)

He loves when you make him breakfast or tea in the morning. Usually, he’s the one to get up early and make things, but on the days when he sleeps in more than you (which is usually on the weekends) you get up and make him some eggs and toast with grilled mushrooms (I hate them, but he looks like a heathen who loves mushrooms.) God, his heart just bursts. He’d walk into the kitchen and wrap his arms around your waist as you’re putting stuff on the plate, peppering your face and neck with kisses.

Like I said, Avdol loves trying new things, and that comes through in his cooking especially which may or may not end in some disasters. He tried to cook a zucchini pasta-thing and… well, you didn’t think they were supposed to be black. Or, that one time he tried to flambe something, which, for someone whose whole thing is fire you’d think would be easy. The first attempt was less than successful, but with plenty of practice, he finally got it and then tried to teach you!

He’s so warm. Everything about him either warms you physically or just warms your heart. He flashes you a smile while you’re talking with friends and you swear you’ve died and gone to heaven.

And on the colder days, he’ll give you his jacket or pull you into a large hug and keep you there until you’re warm. Kissing the top of your head or your cheeks. Or even your nose, if you’ll let him! Kiss him the same way and you will receive the heartiest, most wholesome laugh.

On the couch, you don’t even need to ask, he’ll just pull you into him and kiss you until you fall asleep or start getting a little handsy.

His kisses are so nice. So soft and loving. Addicting in the best way. He’ll always rest his hand on the small of your back, pushing you further into him. He loves to interrupt you while you’re talking because he knows you can’t resist kissing him back. And he loves the look on your face when you lose your train of thought. If you’re feeling brave, pull him in for another one and you might have to make a b-line for the bedroom.

NSFW

He’s usually sweet and soft with you, taking great care in making sure you both get what you want out of it. Gives you the sweetest orgasms you have ever had. His warm hands feeling all over you, caressing you, the soft kisses on your chest and face. The feel of his breath on your neck as he whispers into your ear. If there were ever a man to make you feel loved, it’s this one.

He prefers to be dominant in the bedroom but Avdol will always take care of you. He will always make sure you’re enjoying it and check-in he thinks he’s gone too far. You know that, but sometimes. My god. This man loves to tease you in the loveliest way. His fingers feel so nice on you. Every time he touches you, you feel as though you have no choice but to give in and let him do whatever.

He’s a very traditional man, so I don’t think he’s super into oral, but he’s open to whatever you want. If he’s feeling a little extra, he’ll make you sit under his desk with his cock in your mouth while he’s doing work or something.

Avdol leaned back and look down at your face, sweaty, eyes back in your skull, mouth stretched out over his girth. He runs his hand through your hair and pulls you back a little, watching your eyes focus on him again. He grins, then pushes you back down until your nose is flush with his crotch.

“I’ve got a call with Mr. Joestar in a few minutes. Do you think you can last a little longer?” Through tears, you look up at him with those beautiful eyes, move your tongue just oh so slightly and he’s weak. How can he keep you from what you want? He sighs, letting out a deep chuckle that makes your core buzz with excitement. “You have 5 minutes, my love. Make it quick. You don’t want me to be late, do you?”

You moan as he pulls his hips back before thrusting them in again. You could make him cum in 5 minutes, right?

He isn’t a lazy lover, I swear, but he would love to watch Magician’s Red pound you into the mattress while he, again, does work. He’s a busy man! But watching his stand rake it’s claws down your back and push you further into the bed while you beg for him (Avdol) to fuck you. It does something to him. (He can control the temperature of MR, so don’t worry about burning yourself.)

Cockwarming. He loves it. He can feel you close to him, get some work done and then fuck you all at the same time? He makes you sit on his lap, face buried in his neck while he writes something for Mr. Joestar, or does a tarot reading for you. He’ll pull out literally any card and tell you it means you’ve done something you shouldn’t have.

“Have you been bad, my love?” You frantically shake your head no. “I’m not sure I believe you. Let’s see what the cards say.” You feel him reach forward, cock moving inside you. He then leans back and clicks his tongue. Shaking his head as he talks, “No, no, no. This won’t do at all.”

You whine into his neck, kissing him fervently to try and gain his favour. “Please. I’ve been good. I promise.”

“Shh, shh. I believe you, but…” he puts the card down, “I need more proof, don’t you think?” You lean back to look at him, confused and desperate. He laughs warmly, making a pleasant feeling coarse through you. Then, he stands up, holding on to you carefully, making sure he doesn’t slip out and puts you on the desk. “You can be good, right?”

Loves to tie you up. Gets a nice-looking brown rope and ties your arms so they’re flush against your chest and then ties your legs open. He’s into the more aesthetically pleasing aspects of shibari. Also a fan of tying your feet and hands together so you’re ass is in the air and face in the mattress.

If he’s feeling more tame, he prefers missionary so he can see your face when he hits that spot that makes you wild. He thrusts into you with slow, practiced and methodical moves of his hips.

God, and when you ask him to move faster. Oh, does it drive him wild. On his more sassy days, he’ll just slow down more.

Avdol is a little more hesitant to admit this, but he’s got a thing for candle wax. Tie his arms up and drip it down his chest. Ohhh. He is rock fucking hard. One of the few times he shuts up in the bedroom, normally he’s really talkative, telling you you’re doing a good job, but he just can’t think straight.

But wait! There’s more! He loves to give massages with a happy ending, as well as receiving. Those warm, slightly rough hands rubbing all over your back with some nice smelling oil, down to your ass and then he starts kneading into it. Maybe slipping a finger or two down there.

Look, Muhammad Avdol just loves to make his partner feel good. What can I say? He’s literally almost perfect.

Now, when I got a suggestion for fire play I was a little taken aback. But, after some research, I have learned something about myself and, of course, about Avdol. For starters, I don’t think he would be into whipping/flogging, especially when it’s on fire. It would take a lot of convincing. That being said, if it was safe enough, he would be more than happy to light your hand on fire. Or your ass.

He would make sure you two had taken every precaution to make sure you don’t get hurt and he got a special burn moisturizer, just in case anything happens.

You’re on your knees, naked, waiting for your next command from the man before you. Avdol pours something into a bowl, then adds some cotton balls. He smiles at you, confident and kind.

“If it hurts, tell me. I’ll put it out. The only thing you should be feeling is a tingle.” You nodded your head, understanding what he said. He had gone over what to do if it went out of control since you brought the idea up to him a few weeks ago and both of you had been studying up to make sure you were both safe.

Avdol picks up one of the cotton balls and walks over to you. He holds out his free hand, motioning for you to put yours in it. You do so. He bends down to kiss it before lowering the cotton to your hand, rubbing it around your palm, then putting it back into the bowl. He tells you one more time what to do after 3 seconds.

“Use your other hand and clap, or dust it off. If it gets out of hand, I’ll step in. Now, are you ready?” You nod again, smiling up at him. You were more excited than you should be considering your palm was about to be lit on fire.

He summons Magicians Red, who lets out a screech, then pets your face with a clawed hand. They both smile at you. Magicians Red lights a single finger and brings it down onto your hand.

You gasp at the sensation. Avdol was right. It does tingle. It almost tickles. You can feel the pleasure building in your gut. 3 seconds go by too quickly and you put it out with your other hand.

“How do you feel? Good, I hope.” He examines your hand, checking to see if anything burned. You smile and pull him into a kiss. He gently cups your face before pulling back. “In that case. Turn around.”

#please don't actually fuck on your tarot cards. they don't like it #I wrote this and then completely forgot to write about his chickens #let me know if you wanna see avdols s/o interacting with his chickens.#avdol headcanons #avdol not sfw #avdol x reader #avdol x reader not sfw #avdol #muhammad avdol #avol prompts #not sfw #sfw

89 notes · View notes

greekletters · 4 years ago

Text

this is a-maze-ing

yes, that’s a terrible pun regarding this one shot.

Prompt: Please stay

“This is stupid and I’m over it, and I’m over your snobby attitude!”

“I’m not snobby! I’m trying to get us out of here, you imbecile!”

Yang and Weiss had been fighting for nearly half an hour. Their bickering was a normal occurrence. But this time it had escalated. And for what? Nothing.

“Hey guys, it’s going to be fine. We will get out of here soon. Probably.”

“Oh yeah, Ruby? We won’t get out of here til next year if we keep letting Weiss lead the way.” Yang scoffs and punches the haystack barrier next to her.

Ruby leans over, whispering to Blake, “You know, I thought it was going to be a lot more fun than this.”

Blake sighs and shakes her head.

“With the two of them fighting like this, we are more than likely to end up sleeping in this corn maze tonight than finding our way out.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Ruby seems so defeated, clearly blaming herself.

“Good news,” Blake bumps her shoulder against Ruby’s, “by the looks of it, they’re about to kill each other so we can at least wander in silence after that.”

Hanging her shoulders and huffing, Ruby is at a loss for what to do. This was supposed to be a team building exercise, and here they were fighting like cats and dogs.

“I have an idea.”

“What now Ruby?” The agitation in Yang’s voice constantly growing.

“We are going to split up. Yang, you will come with me. Blake and Weiss, you two go together.”

“Whatever.” Weiss stomps off around a corner, Blake rolls her eyes and follows.

As she trots for a few steps to catch up to Weiss, Blake can hear Yang spewing profanities as her voice gets further and further away.

“Hey Weiss, slow down, wait up.” Thankfully, Weiss slows to a stop and turns to face Blake.

“Are you going to yell at me too?” Her tone accusatory.

“No, just wanted to walk next to you, instead of ten feet behind you, if that’s alright?” She looks at Weiss apologetically and Weiss releases a breath.

“Fine. I’m sorry. I know I was a little uptight.”

“Maybe.”

The two start walking down the pathway in front of them. Blake continuing to allow Weiss to navigate for them.

“What do you mean maybe? Of course I was. I was awful to Yang.”

Blake nods slowly, agreeing with Weiss.

“But I mean, she was just as mean, if not worse to me.”

This time, Blake stops in place, the expression on her face displaying her lack of amusement in Weiss’ attitude.

“You know, while I don’t think she was right in regards to her behavior, Yang is still my partner, so..”

“See now, you’re mad at me too. I knew I should’ve just let Ruby lead us. This is all my fault. We probably would’ve been out of here by now.”

“You aren’t wrong.” Blake steps back up beside Weiss and pulls on her shirt sleeve, letting her know to keep walking. “But we will really never get out of here if we stand still. So lead the way, Miss Schnee.”

“You will always take Yang’s side I suppose.” She seems disheartened, looking down at her muddy shoes.

“That is not true.”

“Sure, right. Whatever you say.” Weiss prances forward a few more steps. Blake can feel the agitation rolling off of Weiss.

“I can leave if you want? I’m sure if I hurry I can catch up to Ruby and Yang. If you’d rather me not be here. I could’ve volunteered to go with Yang, but I didn’t. But if you want me to not be here, you can tell me.”

Weiss’ shoulders slump down as she releases a sigh.

“No. Please stay. I would never want you to leave me. I mean, leave. Just in a general sense, of course.” Blake quirks her eyebrow as Weiss continues to fumble over her words.

“Alright. Come on. Let’s go.” Blake reaches out and grabs Weiss’ hand and pulls her forward. “Right or left?” She asks when they come to a corner.

“Um, left.” Weiss points.

After about thirty minutes of wandering, Blake pulls Weiss’ hand, prompting them to stop.

“Okay. Safe to say we’ve been going in circles. Do you mind if I give it a shot?” Blake asks, trying to ease Weiss into giving up the reigns.

“What makes you think we’ve been going in circles?” Surprisingly, Weiss tightens her grip on Blake’s hand.

“Well um, I’ve kinda been marking the ground every time we take a turn, and we’ve passed this same spot about four times.”

“That’s… really smart.”

“I’d like to believe that I am at least of average intelligence, so thank you.” Weiss laughs for the first time the entire day.

“You are well above average. Now, how soon do you think you can get us out of here? Because I’m pretty sure it’s about to start raining.”

Blake looks up to the sky just in time to feel a rain drop hit against her face.

“Uh, maybe five minutes? If we hurry.”

As soon as Blake pulls Weiss around the first corner, thunder claps so loud she can feel it rattle in her chest. Then rain begins to pour down in sheets.

“I guess we better go a little faster than a casual stroll then now?” Weiss asks over the sound of the falling rain and they begin to jog lightly.

By the time Blake can get them near the exit, they are nearly full out running. When Weiss slips in mud and the two of them almost fall to the ground, Blake grabs tightly onto Weiss’ arm and pulls her quickly up towards her. Saving her from ruining her outfit. But also pulling them face to face.

“Well this is close.” Blake says as she slides her hand back down Weiss’ arm and holds her hand once again.

“Yeah maybe we need to slow down a bit.”

“Probably a good idea. If I’ve calculated this right, we only have like one or two more turns to make.” Blake clears her throat and continues to lead them towards the exit.

Just as Blake had predicted, once they made two more turns they were looking straight towards the exit of the maze. Where they see Ruby and Yang waiting under a covered area, hiding from the rain.

“Thank goodness! I was so worried about you guys. I thought Weiss had led you to your eminent deaths!” Yang runs forwards and wraps Weiss into a bear hug. Obviously no longer upset with Weiss.

“Put me down you heathen! I am soaking wet from the rain.”

“How did it go for you guys?” Ruby leans over to Blake and asks, bracing for impact.

“It wasn’t bad at all. We had a great time. Or at least I did. You will have to ask Weiss about it.” Blake shrugs and keeps walking towards the parking lot.

—————

Later that evening, the four of them are getting ready for bed and Weiss is drying her hair with a towel while sitting on her bed.

“I have something to ask you.” Her voice breaks Blake’s concentration from the book she is reading.

“Hm?”

“You knew the way out of the maze the entire time, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.” She closes her book and sets it on the table beside her bed.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I kind of like being lost with you.”

“What do you mean?” Weiss can feel her heart starting to beat a little faster.

“Hopefully I mean the same thing as when you said you never wanted me to leave you.”

“Oh. Yes. Well. I meant what I said.”

“I know that. And any time you ask me to stay, I always will.”

“Well maybe we can get lost again sometime. If you want.” Weiss says nonchalantly as she pulls the covers over herself and slides down into the bed.

“I’m free to get lost on Friday after class. Let me know.” Blake turns off her light next to her bed and lays down. “But this time I’ll let you fall in the mud.”

“How chivalrous.”

“Always.”

#rwby fanfiction #rwby monochrome #rwby checkmate #blake belladonna #weiss schnee

11 notes · View notes

magpie-scribbles · 4 years ago

Note

Hi. I saw you were taking asks for the nsfw alphabet and I loved the one you did for rappa! I was wondering if you could do one for DIO from jjba please? Thank you

Yaaaaaaasssss my first Jojo Alphabet and it’s with bastard vampire man! Absolute perfection! Let’s get into some spicy DIO!

...I got a bit carried...how dare this man come into my own house and do this?

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Don’t expect him to do any of the work when it comes to prepping for aftercare, he’s not the kind to come back with a washcloth and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. However he also doesn’t abandon his favorite pet. He’ll have his servants run you a luxurious bath and dress you in only the finest silks. If he joins you in your bathing he’ll be the one to wash your hair surprisingly enough. He takes care of what’s his.

B = Body Part (His favourite body part of their partners)

He loves his partner's neck, for obvious reasons; he loves the smell of your skin there, sweet and tantalizing and he loves when you crane your neck to the side and submit to him. When it comes to himself, everything, no part of him is imperfect.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

Dio loves to mark you with his cum, loves making you absolutely filthy. Seeing your chest glistening with his essence is a delightful sight to him. He also quite loves to make a mess of your mouth, he absolutely adores watching you struggle to swallow all of him down.

D = Dirty Secret

Dio and secrets? He keeps none, at least none of this kind.

E = Experience (How experienced are they?)

Extremely. He has taken many lovers over the years, he knows how to play you like a harp, he knows how to please better than any other partner you’ve ever been with. He’ll show you pleasure few can only dream of.

F = Favourite Position

Dio loves nearly every position, he’s a bit of a heathen. However anytime you are beneath him really pleases him. He loves pressing your knees to your shoulders as he practically bends you in half, jackhammering into you over and over until you're an utter mess beneath him. You in your knees sucking him off is also a delicious sight to him, you worshiping him like the god he is.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in bed? Or are they humorous?)

Goofy is not the word you would use for Dio, nor like a cruel tease. He loves to see you fall apart, beg for him as he denies you pleasure. To him it’s wonderfully humorous.

H = Hair (Are they groomed down there? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

He’s not terribly groomed, but he is not pristine either, he’s a feral being to begin with so he keeps it a bit wild down there. When he takes over Jonathan’s body, his hair will at first be very dark in color almost black and when he grows more accustomed to his body it will slowly change to blond.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, are they romantic?)

He is very romantic but in a non-traditional way. Complete and utter pleasure is always his goal but his romantic nature can sometimes come off as hollow or rather his sweet words are really just compliments to himself. He will genuinely compliment you from time to time but his arrogance is often present in his romantic tendencies. You’ll come to find that rather curiously for a being that says he needs no one he craves intimacy and attention.

J = Jack Off

Why would he ever need to when he has people practically throwing themselves at his feet? However he will definitely do it to be a cruel tease to you; get himself off in front of you and not allow you touch or taste.

K = Kink

Dio is open to all forms of kinks and exploration for the most part, however his favorites are: blood kinks; he loves biting into you and watching your rich sweet liquid life stain your body; it tastes rather delicious mixed with your sweat and release. He’s also quite into menstruation sex and oral, you taste absolutely divine during your time of the month, an absolute treat.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

No location is off limits with Dio, if he were able he'd have you in broad daylight in the middle of a town square for all to see. He is however quite fond of having you in his library; sitting in his armchair with a good book with you either writhing on his lap or at his feet sucking him off.

M = Motivation (What turns him on? What gets him going?)

He doesn’t really need any sort of motivation, when he wants, he wants and it’s quite often. When he’s hungry though, your blood sings so sweetly to him and that certainly riles him up more than usual.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do.)

Dio does not like the word no, in fact he despises it. However you are his pretty little pet, his perfect little pet and he so likes to keep his darling pleased so if you are adamant then he will begrudgingly back off; his mood will be very sour for a while and a few unlucky heads might roll.

O = Oral (Do they like to give or receive? Are they skilled?)

He absolutely adores both and the power that comes with each position. He is completely smitten when you bow down, get on your knees and suck him off; watching you drool and gag around him is one of his favorite pastimes. He is absolutely exquisite at giving and knows how to please you in ways you didn’t think possible; he will often compare you to ambrosia.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

He can do both and it largely depends on his mood; when he is in more sour moods he tends to be very rough; manhandling you into position and not letting up. He’ll often go quite a few rounds of brutal pacing to work out his anger before slowing down a bit. He can also be incredibly sensual and have you sighing out his name for hours on end, he’s especially like this when things go his way or he feels you deserve a little reward.

Q = Quickie

Quickies are a staple of Dio’s sexual appetite. His quickies are the ultimate form of sinful decadence and you will definitely leave sweat, filthy and satisfied. Sometimes his quickies end up taking far longer than a normal quickie should but it's simply because his sexual cravings can be difficult to quench with a quick one and done. Be prepared for a lot of sinful situations with him.

R = Risk (Do they take risks? Are they willing to experiment?)

Dio is a huge risk taker, and why wouldn’t he be? He can pretty much get away with anything and not worry about any repercussions . He can also pretty much make it so anything that would normally be a risk to a mortal is not a risk at all. So he is very down to experiment and in fact encourages it.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Stamina and Dio are the same thing, this guy can go all night and day without breaking a sweat, days on end of just crazy debouched sex won’t be something odd to say. Though he does know your stamina is very different from his own so he would most likely take that into account (a pity he will often think).

T = Toy (Do they own toys?)

He owns a wide variety of toys, though pretty much all of them are for him to use on you. He’s particularly fond of dainty, lavish jewelry that serves a more sinful purpose than just looking pretty on you. He loves to see you adorned in golden nipple clamps, a glimmering collar around your neck with a soft leather leash.

U = Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)

Dio and tease are two sides of the same coin. He can be an absolute tease to the point of cruelty, he’s completely content to watch you beg and squirm for him to the point of tears running down your face. He himself does not like to be teased and if you try to press your luck you will most likely be punished (though you might enough it far more than you should.)

V = Volume

He’s not super vocal in the sense, he does not produce a lot of noise when he is in the throes of ecstasy. He’ll often growl lowly or groan deep in his chest which is a marvelous sound. He does however like to talk while in the act and will spend a good amount of time complimenting you (and of course himself). He also quite likes degrading you.

W = Wild Card

Dio’s wild card is surprisingly not sexual but rather soft. No one else would ever be able to be this way with him but you. He finds great contentment in the quiet times you share when you absent mindedly stroke his hair or pet his skin softly and sweetly. It’s a touch he’s never before known but craves from you wholly.

X = X-ray (What’s going on down there?)

As one would expect he is very well endowed at nine inches in length. His length and girth are nearly perfectly proportional to each other and he has a slight upwards curve; he is also fully intact.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is very high and he loves to catch you for a quickie all the time. His sexual appetite is difficult to sate and while he used to take many lovers and then quickly drain them of their life afterwards. He comes to find that no other can quench his thirst the same way you can. Though he realizes you are breakable and time to recover.

Z = Zzz (How quickly did they fall asleep?)

Dio at this point doesn’t really need to sleep but he sees the appeal of a light doze every now and then with you especially if you decide to pet his hair and budge up to him. Your warmth is surprisingly soothing.

~*N//S//F//W Alphabets OPEN for JJBA and BNHA*~

~*Headcanons OPEN for JJBA*~

#Dio #Dio x reader #dio brando #dio brando x reader #spicy #alphabet #JJBA #jjba: stardust crusaders #jjba: phantom blood #reader x dio #it's the spice #bastard vampire man

12 notes · View notes

lokilickedme · 5 years ago

Note

Because of "The Department", I am starting to become interested in Hozier. Are there any songs you would recommend for new listeners? Does he have anything romantic and sad?

Ohhhh my goodness. Does he have anything romantic and sad…DOES HE HAVE ANYTHING ROMANTIC AND SAD?! (sorry, I’m hyperventilating with excitement here)

Sit down honeypants, have I got a playlist for your listening pleasure.

First, you’re fortunate that he’s only got two officially released albums, two EPs, and a handful of covers and film tracks - because frankly the world couldn’t handle much more than what he’s given us so far. We need time, we need to acclimate, we need to be strong enough to take it. And for what he has given us thus far, we are thankful. *amen*

I don’t even know where to start categorizing his songs individually, but since you specifically asked for “romantic” and “sad”, I’ll begin there:

ROMANTIC AND/OR SAD HOZIER SONGS TO PINE AND/OR YEARN TO:

Work Song - Gotta start here, for reasons. This song is what I would call the epitome of romance. It’s a nod to the field hymnals of the deep south, with the religious solemnity replaced by a mournful sort of romantic adoration for a lover who somehow saved him from a past he had all but lost himself to. Sweet and gentle and worshipful, it fairly reeks of bad man redeemed by the love of a good woman. He thanks the higher powers every day for the gift of his lover, whether the gods are listening or not, whether he is worthy of their attention or not - he no longer cares about that, because if there’s no eternal heaven for him, this moment on earth with his love is more than enough. You are his deity now, his redeemer, his savior…and he’s at peace with his past because he knows you love him as much as he loves you. Beautiful and hopeful, and almost painfully romantic.

Like Real People Do - Gah, I don’t even know where to start with this one. It was inspired by Seamus Heaney’s series of poetic odes to the bog bodies discovered in the wilds of Ireland, which in itself doesn’t seem like a very ripe field to plow for romantic sentiment. However, let me direct you to the following verse:

I will not ask you where you came fromI will not ask, and neither should youHoney just put your sweet lips on my lipsWe should just kiss like real people do

Yeah, we’re done here. Basically it’s a vague fairy tale whose implications you’re free to ascertain for yourself. Is it grave robbing? Murder? Some dark fae magic resurrecting an ancient being for some dark purpose he can’t recall? A lonely woman enlisting a disreputable spell to conjure a lover for herself from the long-dead bones of a forgotten victim? Or was he simply buried by his grief/pain/sadness and “dug up” by the love and care of a stranger? Whatever it is, it’s lovely.

To Be Alone - Howling and intense, feral and wild, this is a tune to fuck to. Romantically, of course. The Celtic drums, the yowling chorus, the stomping that brings to mind a tribal Druid ceremony, untamed and darkly sexual in all its heathen glory…

Honey, when you kill the lightsAnd kiss my eyesI feel like a person for a moment of my life

Need I say more? How about this:

To feel your weight in arms I’d never useIt’s the god that heroin prays to

Powerful, right? And any song that has Feels good, god it feels good as a repetitive chorus can’t be anything but babymaking tunes. Trust me.

Better Love - This is a film soundtrack song that appears on the ending credits of The Legend Of Tarzan. Lush and frantically heartfelt and literally gushing with a profound romance that rises and rises until it hits a crescendo that you just gotta listen to on headphones with your eyes closed. It’s a religious experience, the kind that’s easy to imagine yourself screaming OH GOD!! in the middle of. Yeah, that kind. The rising fury of the music, the piano, the horn section, his voice, is all very reminiscent of that kind of love. Just beautiful, urgent, and will have you imagining yourself in a Victorian dress standing on the bank of a river somewhere waiting for your love to return from some distant place.

Dinner And Diatribes - Speaking of that kind of love, here we have a song that uses those very words to describe what loverboy wants and is asking for from you, his passionate yet momentarily bored significant other. The two of you are stuck at some hideously stale social engagement and his soul is dying slowly with each dull conversation he has to participate in; his only reprieve is in staring at you from across the room and sending you subliminal messages about what he would very much like for you to do to him as soon as he gets you out of there. Let there be hotel complaints and grievances raised, yeah that kind of love. Romantic? Not strictly, no, not on the face of it. But really, what’s more romantic than knowing your partner well enough to know that one look from you across a crowded room will have them searching for a way to excuse themselves from the party so they can go home and absolutely rail you?

Scarcely can speak for my thinkingWhat you’d do to me tonightNow that the evening is slowingNow that the end is in sightHoney, it’s easier knowingWhat you’d do to me tonight

And we’re not even going to discuss the pounding Celtic tribal drums that set up a rhythm through the entire song that subtly mimics a headboard banging against the wall. Rowdy loud romance at its pulse pounding best.

In A Week - Nothing says romance like two lovers decomposing in a field together, scaring the cows and slowly turning into food for the foxes and crows. A beautiful tune, gorgeously sung as a duet with Karen Crowley. He claims this was meant to be very tongue-in-cheek, and god I hope he’s not lying because I worry about the boy sometimes.

Nobody - My personal favorite, this one is a road song chronicling a love through comparison. He tells his sweetheart how much he misses her, not with the actual words I miss you, but through a series of either/ors:

If I had the choice between hearing either noiseThe excitement of a thousand, or the soothing of your voiceAt first chance I’d take the bed warmed by the bodyI once warmed my hands over a burnin’ MaseratiStill I’ve had no love like your love

A cute love song full of playful devotion to an absent lover. Just perfect.

Shrike - I should have put this higher up on the list, I know. You’ll understand what I mean when you listen to it. A Shrike is a murderbird, btw. Yeah, he’s comparing his powerful desire to express his love (after having tragically/stupidly missed a prior opportunity to do so) to a Shrike (him) impaling food on a thornbush (her). Again, it’ll make sense when you listen to it. A beautiful, haunting, lushly lyrical song about wistful longing.

Wasteland Baby - This song, geezus. The world is ending, it’s here, it’s happening, and he’s watching it all come down while sitting next to you, holding your hand, waiting for it to reach the pair of you as the flames lick the sky. Neither of you are scared, just at peace, together, waiting for the end of it all to take you. Oddly beautiful, and his voice - god, his voice. Wasteland baby, I’m in love, I’m in love with you.

Movement - A love song to all the things you see in your lover that are lacking in yourself. Poetic and poignant, coming from a towering giant with a tendency to trip over his own feet, singing about his lover being graceful and feeling moved by the way she moves.

NFWMB - Yes, it means what it looks like. Nothing Fucks With My Baby, and yes he says that word every other line. But the way he utters it with such dreamy conviction is just…ugh, it’s a horny song okay? Just unabashedly horny. And romantic, because he’s not making a bar room threat as in NOTHING fucks with my baby!!, he’s issuing a laid back warning that if you DO fuck with his baby, she will straight up fuck you up and he will sit back and watch, shaking his head in an I told you so sort of sympathy. His baby is so terrifying that the goddamn apocalypse willingly averted itself when it saw she was in the vicinity. An ode to a strong lover that he respects with every fiber of his being and by god you should too.

From Eden - Basically a love song from the devil’s point of view. I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door. That’s romantic, folks.

Moment’s Silence (Common Tongue) - My second favorite song in, like, the entire history of music. Remember when I said NFWMB was unabashedly horny? Well, this is a song about oral sex. No qualms, no masking in flowery terms, and a whole lot of borderline blasphemous comparisons to religious verbiage to boot. And it’s one hell of a banger, with Hoz howling like his baby just put her mouth on him (which is the chorus, more or less). A no-apologies hard driving ballad devoted to fellatio, which I find oddly romantic in the simple fact that he speaks of it as a holy act of devotion. He worships his lover, who is, ironically, the one on her knees in the holy posture of prayer in front of him. And god does he love her for it.

Jackie And Wilson - This one is tricky, because it’s a rousing catchy tune flowing around a set of words that, once you listen carefully to them, become a whole lot of not what I thought. He speaks of love, and of being saved, and of the attentive care that his lover gives him. Only later do we hear the truth behind those words - that the love was obsessive and immature, that the savior casually abandoned him without even saying goodbye, that her care was no more than an amused tolerance to his childish adoration. She knew all along that she wasn’t in it for the long haul, while he was making plans for forever. But all hope isn’t lost - he’s not irreparably damaged, he isn’t ruined for life. He simply goes and digs up the version of himself that he buried at the beginning, and starts again. A little more experienced, a bit more jaded, but ready to do it all over again because maybe it’ll be right next time. A hopefully romantic little cautionary tale that somehow doesn’t lose its playfulness, even as he’s putting out his cigarette and noticing that she’s gone.

Do I Wanna Know - this is a cover/retool of the song of the same name by Arctic Monkeys, and it is sublime in its sad yearning. While the original is a driving, dark, sexy ode to obsessive love, Hozier’s version is a gentle, tender, hauntingly heart-tugging song about longing and uncertainty. It’s a slow game of she loves me, she loves me not being played by a lover who is unsure if it’s worth the bother to try to fall in love with someone else if the current object of his laconic affections is no longer interested in him, or if he should just keep trying to win her back and keep the status quo as is. And his voice…god, the way he caresses words is like he’s making love to your ears without the messy cleanup afterward.

There are more - but I’m going to draw the line here and say ENOUGH FOR NOW, YOU’RE NEW, YOU’RE NOT PREPARED FOR THE REST. I mean…Angel of Small Death? Sedated? Arsonist’s Lullaby? The hardcore underlying symbolism of his flagship ballad Take Me To Church? It Will Come Back, for god’s sake?? No, not yet. Go, dip your toe into the waters, and then come back when you’re ready for more…because everything this man has ever done is brilliant and beautiful and profound, and oh boy do I look forward to ruining another innocent with it all :)

#Hozier #Andrew Hozier-Byrne #Wasteland Baby #music rec #Anonymous

56 notes · View notes

violetsmoak · 5 years ago

Text

Philtatos [1/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47615902

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire--for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there's more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment, but if anyone’s interested, message me through Tumblr.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #art #gods in disguise #wings

Canon-Compliance: Follows the New Earth continuity, with elements of New 52 (ie the ones that don’t completely contradict everything that happened pre-Flashpoint). Ignores Rebirth completely. So, up to about 2016 in terms of publication dates? Robins War happened, but Red Hood hasn’t met Artemis or Bizarro, and nothing bad has happened to Roy ffs!

———————————————————————————————————–

“Of all the warehouses in all the towns in all the world, you grappled onto mine.”

Tim suppresses a groan at the faux amusement even a voice modulator can’t disguise and prepares for the likelihood that his careful planning is about to go to shit. It’s as irritating as the customary flutter in his stomach.

He shifts out of his crouch at the edge of the warehouse skylight and inclines his head to the right, taking in the familiar leather-clad figure and expressionless red helmet. He’s not sure how he didn’t sense the larger man approach or at least hear the tread of his boots.

Jason knows how to be quiet when he needs to be.

Quirks of being a Robin; the habit of creeping around like a living shadow doesn’t disappear, even years after the fact.

“This isn’t your warehouse,” Tim replies at last, careful to keep his tone neutral and not betraying his irritation. While he doubts his predecessor would try to take him out from behind (he’s 89% sure, at least), Red Hood has tried to kill him several times and in several ways in the past.

Jason acts as if he didn’t hear him.

“Might be time to go back to school, Timbers, if you can’t even recognize a Casablanca reference. I thought you’re supposed to be the cultured one.”

“Except for Star Wars, I prefer my movies to be from the post-John Hughes era.”

“Heathen.”

It’s hard to tell if Jason is shuddering in disgust, or in response to the biting November chill; either is possible. Leather isn’t known for its insulating properties.

On nights like this, Tim can’t help being way more in awe of former Robins. When he wore the colors, he had thermal warmers built into his suit—Dick and Jason used to do this job in short-pants.

“Anyway, I’d never buy land here,” Jason continues, a deceptive nonchalance in his tone putting Tim on edge. “It’s right in a flood zone. I dunno about you, but I had enough floods to last a lifetime.”

“Hood, what are you doing here?”

“Should ask you that. I thought you were in California or something. Team-building exercises with the other kiddy heroes or whatever it is you do.”

Tim ignores the way his heart jumps at the notion that Jason gave any attention to his whereabouts. “Business trip. What’s your excuse?”

“Missed the smell of smog and sewer. Needed to get my fix.”

Right, because I really expected him to tell me the actual truth.

“Uh-huh.”

The two former Robins size each other up for several seconds, and not for the first time, Tim curses the helmet hiding Jason’s face. He hates not being able to read people, but in his experience, not being able to read Jason has the potential to turn deadly.

“Are we done?” Tim prompts.

“Yeah, we’re good. Now make like a Bat and step off.” Jason’s reached into his side holsters—and yes, there are the modified M1911 pistols he favors. Tim’s awareness of his position between Jason and the skylight grows. “I’ve got a creep that needs to fear of Hood put in him.”

There is an implicit order to back off, but Tim squares his shoulders.

As if that’s ever worked on any of us.

He has no intention of relinquishing his case, and not just because he dislikes Jason’s style of justice. Tim gets sidelined enough by both Batmans and Robin whenever he’s in Gotham, he won’t knuckle under because Red Hood also demands it. Tim might be a bit in love with the guy, but he knows how to compartmentalize.

His feelings are inconvenient, but he’s resigned himself to them. He can pinpoint the exact moment it started to happen.

(His childhood fascination with Robin doesn’t count, even if it was watching Jason bulldoze his path through petty criminals that made him breathless and giddy in a way watching Dick never had.)

Tim blames the waffles.

No, that’s not right; he blames himself for asking Jason to stay for the waffles.

And the talking.

Which led to the joking.

Which led to that one moment where Jason, with syrup all down his chin, laughed at one of Tim’s throway remarks. Laughed, not sneered or scoffed, but genuinely laughed. It was unguarded and untouched by bitterness, warm and rich and his smile was that cocky twist Tim could remember from so many years ago. Something in Tim’s chest pulled tight, his mouth going dry, and he felt lightheaded.

He should have known at that exact moment, because that’s what happened with Steph, when he looked at her one day and realized, he liked her.

Except with Jason, Tim thought he was just recovering from his surprise that his predecessor agreed to stick around for a while. And that they were getting along and that Jason was laughing.

After that, it was a slow roll toward the inevitable that he unknowingly (totally knowingly) ignored. He’s always excelled at shielding himself from his own feelings—had to be. But every time they met each other on random patrols that crossed over, or amid the monthly major crisis involving the whole Family or when Tim ran into him at the manor visiting Alfred, that buoyant emotion returned, stronger each time.

Sometimes he lets himself imagine that Jason gravitates to him more than anyone else. It fills him with the same dizzy warmth as whenever Jason gives him a look—one of those conspiratorial ones like he and Tim are sharing a joke, except half the time Tim doesn’t know what the joke is and the other half he’s sure it’s him, because what moron falls for the guy that’s tried and almost succeeded in killing him more times than he likes to admit?

He keeps quiet about his feelings, though. It’s not as if it’s something that will ever pan out. It’s simiar to having a crush on a celebrity; fun, if a little sad, to dream about, but never serious. In private, he figures he has a better chance of a healthy relationship with Lynx than with Jason.

He’s accepted that and intends to go on with his life.

“I lose you somewhere there?”

Jason’s voice startles Tim out of his head—he realizes he’s been silent for about thirty seconds—and he gives himself a mental shake. “Just trying to figure out your angle. This isn’t really your…thing.”

“Shows what you know.”

Arguments with Jason are an exercise in futility and Tim refuses to justify his continued involvement in his own investigation—call if professional pride. Instead, he restructures his plan for apprehending his target, accounting for the new and often volatile presence of the Red Hood. He wasn’t looking for a team-up, but he’s pretty sure that’s what’s about to happen.

Tim sighs inwardly.

Just because he’s used to his plans imploding because of Jason, doesn’t mean he has to like it. As to why Jason’s here, it only takes a mental review of the case to figure it out.

“Bunny Vreeland?” he guesses.

“Got it in one.”

Tim nods, because given the specifics of this case, that would be the angle Jason focussed on.

A spate of burglaries have occurred across the city, resulting in Gotham’s elite families and institutions losing valuable pieces of art. Normally Tim would leave a case like this to the GCPD—it should be pretty open-shut, since every theft that’s occurred has been witnessed by the victim.

Except, none of the witnesses seem to be able to recall anything that happened. And somehow, the extant security footage has offered no answers either. As for museums and galleries, those meant to be on guard with security were discovered…doing other things. A lot of them were found in some rather compromising positions, both alone and when working with a partner.

(Tim suppresses a shudder. He could have gone his entire life without seeing the footage a sweat-stained, middle-aged rent-a-cop taking care of himself the Natural History Museum’s security office.)

None of the victims remember how they ended up that way.

That sort of thing, he’d normally suspect it involved Poison Ivy, but she always leaves spores or trails of toxin behind. Every crime scene so far has been clean of any trace evidence.

Whoever is cutting a swath through Gotham’s art collectors has a specific taste—paintings, sculptures and wood cuttings with decidedly risqué themes. Given the behavior of the witnesses and security personnel, it’s entirely conceivable that there’s a metahuman with some kind of… pheromone projection ability running around Gotham. That alone wouldn’t draw Jason’s attention. Except, the latest person to fall prey to the thief was a teenaged girl. And while the age of consent in New Jersey is sixteen, the consenter in question needs to remember giving it to be valid.

Hence Red Hood’s involvement.

“That happened yesterday,” Tim points out. He’s not sure what is more annoying to him: the fact he’s been on this case for a week and Jason thinks he can show up and take it from him, or that Jason’s been looking into it for less than twenty-four hours and has already tracked down the suspect. “How did you figure out you should come here?”

Okay, so it’s probably the latter.

“It’s art, right? Whoever’s doing this need somewhere to store the pieces, even if it’s only waiting to sell them off. And it’d have to be somewhere easy to get in and out of without drawing attention. I kept an ear out for any property changing hands around here that was inside the theft radius.”

“I checked recent property purchases, though. There haven’t been any for the past two months.”

“Well, there wouldn’t be any records of it if it was a handshake deal—which this was,” Jason replies. “It might not be on the record, but this place is now under the ownership of a Steven Howard.” He tilts his head to one side, and Tim suspects he’s being smirked at. “Why, what overly complicated scheme did you come up with to find this guy?”

There’s that teasing again, although the amusement is more genuine this time. Tim hopes the cowl covers enough of his face to hide the flush in his cheeks.

“I used tonight’s WE charity auction to showcase several pieces remaining from my parents’ collection, specifically those that fit the tastes of our thief,” he explains. “It was a last-minute decision, but I know a certain reporter that’s more than happy to plaster my name across newspapers and social media everywhere.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“I was hoping to catch the guy in the act, but I got intercepted by a bunch of Lockheed Martin reps and couldn’t get away.”

“Probably for the best, or he’d have put the whammy on you, too.”

“Maybe.” He doesn’t say he would rather it had been him than the event organizer; the poor woman had been frazzled enough before succumbing to the wiles of the mystery thief. “I had a contingency if it happened.” Specifically, a taser in the sleeve of his suit. “Luckily, I left microtracers on the stolen pieces and used the GPS to find where they were taken.”

“How did you manage that? This guy’s been knocking out every electrical device he’s gone up against.”

“Devices that are turned on, yes. You don’t need a GPS to be turned on to trace it—”

His explanation trails off as the computer in his cowl alerts him to someone setting off the motion sensors he planted a half-hour earlier. The thief was gone by the time Tim arrived at this warehouse, but he knew he would be back.

Showtime.

The shipping area is surprisingly empty but based on the security-feeds he’s hacked into dozens of stolen relics—paintings, sculptures and photographs fill the office. The ones he used as bait—a series of Edo-period shunga—have been placed with some prominence in the middle of the room.

He adjusts the screens within his cowl, toggling through nine different enhanced vision modes before he settles on heat-vision. Since cameras don’t seem to pick up this thief, he’s hoping thermal radiation will be a better bet.

Leather shifts and out of the corner of his eye, he notices Jason crouch down beside him.

Looks like he’s fine with us teaming up, at least.

Out loud, he says, “Wait for my signal. We have to confirm before we engage.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” is the snarky reply.

Tim rolls his eyes and settles back into his observational position.

Jason doesn’t like silence, or at least that’s what Tim thinks because he can’t think of a single instance where they worked together that the older vigilante didn’t run his mouth. Even now, he only manages for several minutes of quiet, shifting his weight back and forth impatiently, before he asks, “So what’s your interest in this? Gotham’s elite getting duped isn’t really your thing anymore. The way I hear, you’re a lot more international these days.”

Tim’s eyes don’t leave the window.

“This is international. There were similar crimes committed in Boston last week, which stopped once the thefts started here in Gotham. Before Boston it was St. John’s, before that Dublin, London—as far as I can tell, it originated in Amsterdam.”

“What’s in Amsterdam?”

“Besides spider assassins and stroopwafel? Catwoman. Except it can’t be her because when the second spate of incidents started up in London, she was in Innsbruck casing the Swarovski exhibit.”

“Then how’d you get a beat on this guy? I got nothing from the security footage. It’s like most of it was erased or malfunctioned.”

“It wasn’t easy. Vague witness statements and enhancing whatever footage was available, which barely helped. By accident, I caught something reflected in a shop window and that was the most tangible evidence.”

“So the guy doesn’t show up on cameras, but still has a reflection. So not a vampire.”

“Not human, either, I think. Somehow, this guy made it from Dublin to St. John’s without being flagged by any checkpoint or even Customs. There are no flight manifests, commercial or charter, that include passengers of his description. Or line up with his times of disappearance. I’ve got a second-hand witness description of him in a Boston lounge at ten o’clock last Monday. Fifteen minutes later on the same day, someone saw him walking around the Wedgewood Museum here in Gotham.”

“That’s where the first theft took place.” Jason makes crosses his arms. “Even if he had access to a plane that travels Mach 1, he wouldn’t get here that fast. Meta?”

“It’s the only explanation that makes sense, since it looks like whatever his powers, he can turn them off and on at will. Probably only uses them when he’s committing the break-ins.”

“And the—wait. There he is.”

They both go silent and watch the suspect enter.

It’s a bit anticlimactic.

Steven Howard looks nothing like a suave master thief that can stir up lustful feelings in anyone. Slender, perhaps as tall as Tim but with a slighter build, dressed in skinny jeans, several layers of shirts and thick black gloves. His dirty blond hair is literally filthy, hanging in the mats that white people try to pass off as dreadlocks, and he’s wearing tinted shades. Inside. At night.

Jason is just as unimpressed.

“Are you kidding me?” he hisses. “This scrawny, pale douche wearing sunglasses at night? He looks like someone didn’t realize Woodstock is over.”

They continue to observe as Howard shuffles into the middle of the room, carrying a huge paper bad with what appears to be enough Batburger to feed twelve people.

“It seems consistent with the descriptions I have,” Tim says, doubtful. “He just… doesn’t seem the type.” Jason is already standing, ready to dive through the skylight and confront the guy, but Tim stops him, throwing an arm out in front of him. “If he’s a meta, we need to have some idea of his capabilities first.”

“Or we knock him out before he knows we’re there and figure that out later.”

“If you want to get hit with whatever pheromones he gives off, be my guest, I promise I won’t take any blackmail videos,” Tim says, and that at least makes Jason pause and reassess.

Below, Howard places the takeout on a pile of crates, and strolls over to the Japanese prints. He considers them carefully for several seconds, before shucking his gloves and reaching forward, stroking his hand across the surface. Then, he presses his forehead against it, fingers caressing the edges.

“Clearly not concerned with artifact preservation.”

“That’s weird, right? Rich people don’t usually walk around feeling up pieces of art?”

“I don’t know, Hood, do you?”

“I’m not rich.”

“You steal literal fortunes from gangsters.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I keep much of it. And I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth like a few other people I could name.”

“Bite me.”

“Kinky.”

The other man is obviously being a smart-ass, but Tim still clenches his fist and hopes his cowl is low enough on his face to disguise the flood of color in his cheeks.

Down below, Howard straightens up and tugs his shirts off.

“What the hell?” Jason hisses. “We’d better not be out to watch this guy beat off in front of a painting!”

Before Tim can respond, the lights in the warehouse flicker, as if hit by a sudden power surge. Howard rolls his shoulders, like he’s warming up for exercise, and there’s an odd snap that echoes even this high up.

Two enormous feathered appendages erupt from the man’s back, like something out of a video game, except this is real life. One minute there’s nothing occupying the space behind him, and a beat later feathers flare out to both sides, spanning almost the entire office.

“Holy shit. Are those… wings?”

“You mean you’re seeing them too? And here I figured I haven’t been getting enough sleep.”

“Knowing you, probably not.”

“Still want to jump in without a plan?”

“Shut up.”

Tim’s fingers fly over the keyboard of his wrist computer, manually inputting characteristics since he can’t seem to capture the guy’s face on his device. “Whoever or whatever he is, he’s a complete ghost. He doesn’t show up on any of the usual databases. Which is surprising, because, wings?”

Jason shakes his head, slow as if trying to dispel disbelief. “One thing’s for sure, this is definitely our guy…”

There is a squeal of tires from behind them, and Tim’s head whips toward the loading dock below the warehouse. He fiddles with his wrist computer, tapping into satellite imagery to see from the angle he can’t. A half dozen black SUVs swerve into the lot and a wave of men pile out, dressed in black and carrying a varied assortment of firearms.

And there goes the rest of my plan…

⁂

Jason creeps to the edge of the warehouse roof to check out the new arrivals, cursing against the newest complication; Red Robin showing up on his patrol and skinny white boys with wings weren’t bad enough, now he’s got to deal with gangster too?

This was supposed to be an easy night. Break a few bones, shatter a kneecap or two, then go finish off that leftover pizza.

He suspects that whatever this is, it’s going to take up the rest of his patrol.

“Who is it?” Tim wants to know, no doubt fiddling with his fancy tech to, like, use satellite imagining figuring it out instead using his eyes.

Nerd.

“I’m seeing a lot of Kalashnikovs and Makarovs,” Jason replies, tapping his comm so he doesn’t need to shout and give away their position.

“Russian? Ivgene maybe?”

“Bratva, I think. Those guys’ve been trying to push into Gotham since Alex Kosov got arrested and the Odessa Mob started to flounder.”

“Hm. I think you’re right. I’m going over the list of theft vics again, and Ishmael Knyazev is on it.”

“Knyazev…why does that sound familiar—wait. Like Anatoly Knyazev? KGBeast?”

“His younger brother.”

“Shit.”

“I’m pretty sure those Degas’ down there in the warehouse belong to him.”

“Guess he holds a grudge…”

Down on the pavement, the men spread out, a bulky guy bearing some resemblance to Slade Wilson but without the muscles gives orders. He barks at his men to surround the building, ordering them to retrieve the paintings and whatever else appears valuable, and detain the thief for their boss to speak to.

Jason snorts, because he knows what constitutes a Russian mafia talking-to. Steven Howard, or whoever he is, is about to have a lot in common with a plucked turkey. Assuming he goes quietly, which Jason isn’t entirely sure of; they still don’t know what wing-boy is capable of.

As he returns to the skylight, he notes Tim already standing and doing a pat-down check of his equipment.

“If they’re here to address a grudge with this guy, we need to get down there before it gets ugly. I figure we have about four minutes before they infiltrate the place.”

“What happened to not just jumping in?”

“About two dozen Bratva members.”

“Yeah, so? What should we care?” Jason counters. “A bunch of scumbags tearing each other apart sounds like a night off to me. And if Feathers there takes a bullet or three, even better.”

Tim faces him dead-on then, and Jason can imagine the reproachful look beneath his stupid cowl. “Theft isn’t a capital offense.”

“Rape is.”

In his mind, anyway.

“Not according to New Jersey Law, and we don’t get to make that call. That’s what the courts are for, and that’s where this guy is going after I interrogate him.”

Jason huffs and narrows his eyes. “We really gonna have this discussion now, kid?”

Tim bristles and turns away.

“No,” he retorts, “because we don’t have time. I’m going in—with or without you.”

And without sparing another glance at him, Tim takes a running leap and jumps through the skylight to mitigate impending disaster.

Jason remains still for a beat, watching as Red Robin plummet through the air to the warehouse below, glass and metal exploding around him, and then curses.

Because, of course his replacement is going to make it his business. Jason’s perfectly content to let these low lives take each other out—death by mobster is a pretty karmic fate for a rapist, in his opinion.

Tim hits the ground several feet behind their mark, who whirls around and stares with wide eyes. The feathers in his giant wings puff up, and he bends into a defensive crouch, a snarl upon his lips.

“Who the—you! What are you doing here?” ‘Howard’ snaps, clenching his fists.

“Getting you out of here before you become a pincushion,” Red Robin growls, snapping a hand outward to grab at him. “And you’re going to answer some questions.”

“Don’t touch me—!”

“Then get moving, or we’re both—”

Apparently, Tim’s estimate was about three minutes off, because there are muffled explosions from the entrances of the warehouse and then the mobsters are piling in, shouting commands and threats, guns in hand.

“—in trouble.”

Several men fire warning shots into the air, some of which bury themselves in the frame of the portraits nearest Tim and Howard, who gives a growl and shoves away from Tim, stalking toward the incoming threat. His wings flare up in anger. “You brutes dare to—!”

But his approach startles the mobsters, who apparently weren’t expecting to encounter a shirtless winged man coming after them.

Easily startled and trigger-happy—never a good combination.

Tim’s leg snaps out, sweeping Steve’s feet out from under him, just in time to save him from the next wave of bullets ripping through the air where his head was. As Tim lands on the ground with one hand, he uses his other to throw a fistful of R-shuriken that embed themselves in the shoulder of the nearest mobster, who drops his gun with pained curses.

Ah, hell.

Jason leaps over the ruined frame of the skylight.

If anyone asks later, it’s because he doesn’t want to explain to Alfred why the poster child of the family got killed in a mob shoot-out on his watch.

(And yes, just Alfred, because while everyone else can go fuck themselves, the number one rule of the family is that you don’t upset the kindly old Englishman that puts up with literal batshit.)

But the reality is, he’s not about to let the only Bat he trusts become riddled with bullets.

Tim isn’t his family, or a friend—they don’t know each other well enough for that—but there’s always been a kind of certainty to him, so Jason knows exactly where he stands with the other vigilante. And that he can turn his back on him without having to worry about an incoming knife or a nerve-strike.

When they first met, he zeroed in on Tim because of lingering resentment and a burning desire for vengeance on his replacement, misdirected as that might have been. Now that he’s mostly over the madness of the Lazarus Pit and endured a few grudging family team-ups in the face of Gotham’s usual psychopaths, his tendency to cross paths with Red Robin feels like it’s motivated by something more complicated. There’s a connection between them, a shared experience of being the replacement that no one really wanted, constantly measured against the legacy of their predecessor and then cast aside with painful ease. They’re outsiders in the family, in a way that neither Dick nor Damian will ever be, and in his own screwed up way, Jason is a bit protective of the kid.

(Not that he intends ever to admit that.)

So yeah, going after Tim isn’t really a choice.

Can’t promise I won’t shoot that winged fucker for causing all this trouble, though.

As he lands in a heavy crouch, Jason notices Tim’s mouth part in surprise; he can’t help being insulted by that.

Sure, they’re relationship can at best be described as limbo, but the kid should know by now Jason no longer hates him with a fiery passion. If he must partner with any of the Bats, he sticks close by Tim, and not only because he has less trouble asking him for help than Dick or Bruce.

(Seriously, the last time he called in a favor with Dick, he couldn’t even get the word out.)

Tim, back on his feet now, sends another hapless gunman flying in Jason’s direction with a well-placed right hook; the guy’s eyes go wide at the sight of the Red Hood, who swings and backhands him into unconsciousness. As the body goes limp, Jason grabs the falling gun with one hand, and uses the other to prop the mobster up as a shield.

Shoving him out in front of him, Jason ducks behind the body to avoid the rain of bullets now coming at him courtesy of this guy’s buddies, carefully inching forward behind his human shield.

“No killing!” Red Robin snaps from across the room; he tosses a tiny device at two more guys, and as it explodes, a controlled concussive blast knocks them to the ground.

“I’m not killing anyone.”

“You’re not exactly preventing it!”

“Everyone’s a critic…”

Still, at the next opportune moment, he throws the man aside and shoots the guns out of the hands of the three shooters, before whirling around to kneecap the fourth that sneaks up from behind him.

One of the injured men tries to come at him again, this time with a knife, but Jason ducks the clumsy blow with ease, punching him in the gut and dragging him into a headlock as he doubles over. He swings him to the ground, takes another shot to hobble him, and then ducks as the two other mobsters crowd him.

Howard looks like he’s trying to inch away from the firefight, but he’s sent back to the ground with a well-placed tap from Red Robin’s bo staff.

“Don’t go flying off just yet,” Tim growls, then vaults over him and puts himself between the winged man and another cadre of mobsters, sweeping his cape in front of them both to shield them.

Must have upgraded it to be bulletproof since I last saw him…

Jason throws one arm up to catch a downward swing from his nearest opponent, twists his body to avoid his comrade, and then strikes the latter in the face, rolling and twisting the arm in his grasp to send the man backward. Both now on the floor, he downs them with two precise shots to the knees, and then stalks forward to finish another with a front-kick to the sternum.

Nine down—how many left?

There’s a lull in the gunfire, and Jason engages his helmet’s infrared system to find the remaining mobsters; they appear to be retreating for the moment, but the thermal readings suggest they aren’t going far.

“Got an exit strategy?” he prompts, backing toward Tim and their hapless charge, guns still primed to shoot.

“You seriously still need to ask?”

“Does it involve going up? Because I don’t think that’s going to work.”

Tim follows Jason’s gaze toward the skylight where the Slade lookalike is perched, disengaging the safety on what Jason recognizes almost too late as a Dragunov.

And ten to one the fucker’s primed with armor-piercing rounds!

There’s only time for Jason to get one person down and to safety, and between the winged bastard that caused all of this, and Tim, there’s no contest.

He vaults forward as the first shots thunder through the air, throwing himself at Tim as bullets careen into Howard. Jason doesn’t know if it hits him anywhere vital, but they do pierce through the thick wings, sending him to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Several of the same bullets plow into Jason’s shoulder when he can’t quite move out of the way in time. He feels blood blossoming across his skin—not the numbing, bone-deep ache of a major injury, but more of a graze—as he lands on Tim’s less than cushioning body.

“Christ, kid, eat a sandwich,” he growls, tightening his hold on the kid and rolling them both out of the path of fire. With an inelegant inchworm crawl that should embarrass anyone trained by Dick Grayson, he manages to get them over to a bunch of crates to provide cover.

It’s just in time, too, since another stray bullet glances across Jason’s helmet; this isn’t as lucky as the body armor. The screen shatters and his comm fizzles out from the force of the shot, and Jason snarls out a breathless oath at the pain and sudden disorientation.

There’s another dull roar, a second round of automatic fire, and this time its Tim knocking him out of its path, dragging them lower down behind the crates.

A beat later, Jason senses fingers scrabbling at the catches of his helmet—

“Ja—! Hood—you alrigh—?!”

And then the helmet is off, and Tim looms over him. He is surprisingly clear in Jason’s vision considering the hit he just took. The cowl hides his eyes, but the way his jaw clenches suggests worry.

Something shoots through Jason then, hitting him like a blow to the gut, as if someone snuck up behind him and sucker-punched him. But there’s no one near him except Tim, probably wouldn’t coldcock someone while he’s down.

For a moment, Jason imagines the entire world slows, and the roar of gunfire fades out, replaced by a puzzling whispering that drowns everything else out:

“—should e’er I go, will you go with me--?”

“��come back to me—”

“—I would that you would leave them all to perish—”

“—bury us together—”

There’s a harsh, swooping sensation in his stomach and Jason gasps for breath, the pain of the action refocussing him on his immediate surroundings. Sound returns, the echoing words bleeding into Red Robin’s voice in an eerie double timbre.

“Hood, answer me! Are you okay?!” Red Robin demands, and then lowers his voice into a hiss, “Jason!”

Physically shaking his head to clear it, Jason forces his concentration past the strange haze surrounding him and pushes the other vigilante away, pausing only briefly to assess that he hasn’t been shot too.

“Not cool, man, secret identity, remember?” he grumbles.

“You’re still wearing a mask,” Tim shoots back, but what would normally sound waspish for him sounds tense. “Or half of one at least.”

Jason grunts in response, digging into his pocket for the spare domino he keeps on hand, peels the backing off the adhesive strip and fixes it to his face. He peeks around the edge of the crates to study the sniper up high, while Tim cranes to check on their mark; Howard is still moving, shoulders and wings shifting like he’s trying to get up. They need to get him out of the line of fire, much as Jason would rather not, and stop the guy from bleeding out.

Another barrage of bullets demolishes the top edges of the crates.

“Police are on their way,” Tim tells him, flicking something on his wrist computer.

“Awesome. Just in time to identify our corpses.”

“As if you haven’t had worse,” Tim snorts, studying the projected display. “All the exits are covered; unfriendlies on our four, six and nine.”

“And the one up top.”

Another bullet embeds itself three inches from Jason’s head. He and Tim consider each other for a second, and the younger man digs another handful of gadgets from his bandolier. He juts his chin at the skylight, his meaning plain, and Jason nods.

Simple enough plan. Of course, it’d be nice if there was something to distract them a bit more. I really don’t want to get shot again just now—

Their buddy Howard decides that’s the optimal moment to try to get up again, pushing himself to his feet with a snarl. His wings unfurl with a whump sound, the blast of air rippling from them sending a few of the nearer mobsters staggering. It has the added effect of drawing their attention, and for a moment, there’s a lull in the amount of projectiles heading for Jason and Tim as the gunmen focus on the new threat.

“That’ll work.”

“Go!”

They burst out from behind the crates, Jason already shooting several rounds at the sniper up top, while Tim flings a handful of circular pods at the nearest enemies. This first wave of devices are knockout gas, which downs the two closest mobsters and makes Steve cough and stagger.

Jason’s target pulls back to avoid his attack, but isn’t fast enough, ends up taking a shot to the calf and staggering forward. He plummets to the ground, and there’s a familiar sound of bone cracking—Sorry, asshole, that sounded like a femur—and then Jason swings around to take out the trio sneaking up on them from behind.

Tim automatically ducks beneath his arms, neatly avoiding the barrage of bullets, and tosses another handful of gadgets; this time, upon contact, wires snap out and wrap around the attackers, making several overbalance while the others lose grip on their weapons. Jason’s clip is empty now, and so he drops his own guns, pulls out the modified grapple gun and fires; it punches through the shoulder of one guy, and Jason retracts it, pulling him forward and then downing him with a punch to the jaw.

Red Robin’s last device is something metallic that lands in the middle of the floor and vibrates with a startling intensity; Jason’s about to make a lewd joke, when his grapple is tugged out of his hands—along with every other metallic weapon nearby, which collect in a pile around the device.

“Really?” Jason grouses.

“Like you really need a weapon,” Tim shoots back; he’s already got his bo staff primed and ready—Must be made of some non-metallic polymer this time around—and sweeps the legs out from under some stragglers.

Jason decides to show his feelings on the matter by plowing forward and brawling with the remaining members of the mob. He doesn’t pull his punches, listening to the snap of forearms and crack of broken ankles and cries of pain.

And as suddenly as it started, it’s quiet again.

The warehouse is in ruins—along with quite a few of the relics.

Howard gapes around. “You animals. You absolute savages! You just…look at this!”

“Hope you have insurance,” Jason quips.

“Don’t really care if you don’t,” Tim adds, bringing out one of the remaining pods; he snaps it open before Steven can say anything, and rope wires explode outward to wrap around him, wings and all. “Now, let’s go have a conversation before the police show up.”

Grabbing hold of the guy by the front, he fires his grapple and flies upward; Jason stares after him for a bit longer than a blink, shakes his head. After tugging his grapple out of the pile of weapons (with more difficulty than he’d like), he follows.

Sirens scream in the distance, as he and Tim face down the winged man who is teetering a bit as he tries to keep balance.

“Well, that’s just rude,” he mutters, his pinched expression reminiscent of Damian’s permanently constipated look. “And a waste, really.”

He closes his eyes in concentration, and the wings vanish, causing Tim’s bindings to loosen. Both Tim and Jason leap forward to grab him in case he tries to make a run for it, but he sidesteps them with surprising ease.

“Knock it off, I’m not going anywhere,” he snaps before they can try again. “What’s the point, you just destroyed my pad.”

“You’d think you’d be more bothered about having been shot,” Tim deadpans, and then studies the shirtless man with a frown on his lips. “Or not.”

There isn’t a sign injury on him.

“I heal fast.”

“Good to know,” Jason says.

Without another word, he snaps head forward and headbutts the pasty-faced bastard. Who crumples to the ground once more.

“Hood!” Red Robin cries in protest and recrimination.

“What? It was that or a bullet.”

Red Robin pulls him backward and away from their detainee, mouth turning downward. Jason intends to mirror the expression right back—he isn’t in the mood for Tim’s bitch-face—but his vision falters a bit, tunneling a little as it settles on Tim’s form.

Okay, so that was a bad idea. If I didn’t have a concussion before…

“Man, you really shouldn’t have done that…” their winged detainee mumbles, picking himself back off the ground and glares at Jason through bleary, bloodshot eyes. “I mean, if you weren’t screwed before by the bullet, you definitely will be now.” His gaze flicks to Tim, and the corner of his mouth ticks up in a way Jason doesn’t like. “Probably quite literally.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jason snaps, finger itching towards a trigger once again.

“That’s not important,” Tim interrupts. “I want to know who this guy is. Metas tend to avoid Gotham.”

“Well, darling, I’m not a meta.”

“Then what the hell are you? Because those wings ain’t human,” Jason growls. “And this is the only time we’ll ask nicely.”

The winged man draws himself up, somehow managing to loom despite the fact he’s perhaps an inch taller than Tim and narrows his eyes at them like he’s looking at vermin.

“I am Eros,” he says, lifting his chin, “the God of Love.”

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

#jaytimweek2019 #jaytimweek #jaytim #jaytimbingo2019 #fanfic #jaytim fic #batfic #tim drake #jason todd #eros (new earth)#mythology #art #gods in disguise #wings #violet writes #drama #angst #introspection

27 notes · View notes

oddsnendsfanfics · 5 years ago

Text

We’re All Broken Pieces

Genre: Fan Fiction (The Last Kingdom) Pairing: N/A Warnings: Character Death, Mentions of Abuse Rating: G Length: Short Story Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: A bit of Sihtric from the world of We All Need Something to Hold On To. A bit scattered and all over the place, it wrote itself that way, fitting since Sihtric is scattered in thinking ;)

If you want to be tagged in my The Last Kingdom works, feel free to do so here!

Sihtric stood next to his best friend, his hands clasped in front of him, quiet and still, as the sun shone against the group. The sun shining at a funeral was almost comical.

Around him, Sihtric could see friends and family, all gathered for one grievous reason. Only days ago, his best friend had lost his wife, and these were the people who cared enough to gather to pay their respects and to bid the lovely Gisela farewell. On the other side of Uhtred stood Finan, the dark haired Irishman had traded his wide smile and jovial demeanor for a solemn expression.

Thyra; Uhtred's sister and a long time friend to Sihtric stood beside Finan with her husband, Beocca. On the other side of the grave Sihtric watched Gisela's brother, Guthred, the only blood family she had left. He was standing not too far from Sihtric's own blood.

Between the golden haired Hild and the mousy haired Osferth, stood the sable haired Sibbe. His twin sister, best friend, and life long partner in crime. Seeing the tears rolling down her cheeks, Sihtric's heart ached.

He wanted to go to his sister, hug her, and rock her in his arms. To tell her everything would be fine. They would be fine, but Sihtric found himself rooted to the ground. Sihtric never left Uhtred's side, keeping guard over his friend as Uhtred had done for Sihtric so many times.

The longer he watched his twin, the more pull it had on Sihtric. He hadn't been to a funeral since they had laid their mother to rest. Sihtric and Sibbe had been only thirteen then. As much as Sihtric loved his mother, Elflaed's funeral had been half the gathering that Uhtred's wife had brought.

He remembered the day, as if it were yesterday. Dressed in a black suit with his hair combed to perfection, he stood next to his sister, clutching her hand and doing his best not to let his tears show. Sibbe had stood like stone, sandwiched between Sihtric and Thyra. Uhtred had stood behind Sihtric, his wild long hair tied back, and his steel blue eyes snarling at anybody who dared to look at the twins before him.

"She'll always be with you." Thyra had spoke, when the funeral had ended and the handful of people began to leave.

"Not now, Thyra." Uhtred had groaned, rolling his eyes and loosening his tie. He hated suits, but out of respect, his adoptive parents - Thyra's parents - had made their children dress well. Elflaed deserved a smart looking funeral, Sihtric had heard Ragnar, Sr. chide.

"But she will, our loved ones are always around us. Ravn said so." Thyra huffed, dragging her late grandfather into this. Typical siblings.

"We should go." Sibbe managed to speak, her voice quiet. Sihtric had barely heard her, over Thyra and Uhtred. Words escaping, Sihtric nodded taking one last look at the fresh grave.

Walking away and leaving his mother had been the hardest thing he had ever faced. At thirteen, a boy is supposed to be worried about sports, and girls, failing his next math test - not worrying about his sister and how they would make it through without their mother.

A man spoke, jarring Sihtric back to his present, talking about God and how he would welcome Gisela. Right. Did this man even know Gisela? She had a multitude of beliefs, but God was not one of them. Sihtric couldn't blame her. Despite his sister's Christian beliefs, which he often teased her for, Sihtric knew it was rubbish.

If there was a God and if he was so grand, why had he left two thirteen year old kids without their mother? If there was such a being, why had he left Sihtric to suffer?

It was shortly after their mother's death that Sibbe had began to find God. She would attend church every Sunday, without fail, preaching to Sihtric when she thought their father wasn't listening. Telling her twin about all the amazing wonders that this powerful man had in store for them. The only good that came from it, was Sibbe's constant faith drove their older brother Sven crazy.

Wild and reckless, Sven had been a handful since he was born. It didn't mean Elflaed loved her eldest son any less. Sven was sixteen when his mother passed away, not that he cared. Sihtric hated his brother, almost as much as he hated his father. Cruel and manipulating, Sven was an ass.

Sibbe's faith had drove Sven crazy, which meant when Sibbe was home, he was not.

"Shut her up." Sven moaned, a pack of frozen peas against his face. The result of another fight, Sven was always in some sort of scuffle.

"Let her be." Sihtric stood up for Sibbe, who was singing some hymn she had learned the previous Sunday. "She isn't hurting you."

Sven was taller than Sihtric, stronger, and wider. He was slow and dumb, as far as Sihtric was concerned, but it didn't stop his mother from always telling her sons to play nice. When they were little, Sven would take Sihtric's toys and bury them in the back yard, always leading to Sibbe attempting to beat up her older brother in Sihtric's defense.

"She's annoying." Sven continued to gripe. "And so are you."

Rolling his eyes, Sihtric picked up his text book, to move to his bedroom. He was over listening to this bullshit. It didn't matter what he said, because Sven would continue to complain and in the end, Sihtric would be the one to get punished.

Sihtric had to hide is smile, now, when he stole a glance of Ragnar, Jr. A few feet from where Sihtric stood, the tall and imposing, blond man stood with his wife Brida.

Once, when Sihtric had been ten or eleven, he had got into a fight with Sven. Bloodied and bruised, he and Uhtred went home, despite their best effort to gang up on the older boys. When Ragnar had saw them, he demanded to know what happened. Scared for his brother, Sihtric refused to tell the teenager the truth. Uhtred on the other hand...

The next day Ragnar had cornered Sven on the walk home from school, demanding to know if he was the one who'd beat up Uhtred and Sihtric. Later that day, Sihtric was home helping his mother make dinner when Sven came in with a busted lip and swollen eye.

Kjartan had lost it, screaming and raging that his kids were never to go near Ragnar and Sigrid's heathens ever again. They were useless and violent - ironic, Sihtric thought. Elflaed had told him that kids would be kids. Then sent Sven to clean up and to bed without dessert.

Sven was too much like his father. Sihtric had always felt that way. Even as a child, Sven would be granted special treatment, while Kjartan would tend to ignore Sihtric. His excuse was that Sihtric was too soft and not at all a real man, nor would he ever be.

Unlike Sven and his much older half brother, who he only saw on holidays, Sihtric was quiet and not at all a fighter. Until the day his mother passed, she was his shining light. Losing her had sparked a raging fire in the quiet boy.

Despite the change, Sihtric would never raise his voice or fists in anger. If he did, then it made him no better than Kjartan or Sven. His mother had always told him that the key to being a good man, was to be generous and kind.

"Real men don't fight with fists and the good ones are never belligerent." Elflaed would tell her youngest son, kissing his forehead and stroking her gentle hands over his dark hair.

Then she would turn to her only daughter, kiss her cheek, and tell her “A good woman will fight as fearsome as any man, for what she wants.” Sihtric loved those moments with his mother.

The way she would smell, when he would sit with her on the couch, reading or watching tv. Her laugh - Sibbe had her laugh. Sihtric adored his sister, but when he'd had a few drinks and she began to laugh, it always left him with a lump in his throat and a hatred in his heart.

Hatred not for Sibbe or his mother, but for her loss. For the man who had tormented Sihtric, until the day he died.

Growing up, Sihtric and Sibbe had always been happy, safe, and loved. Sven, too. It wasn't until he grew older that Sihtric had learned the real truth about how cruel his father could truly be. If Sihtric had only known, then maybe he could have done something? He had failed his mother, in a way, allowing her to suffer all those years in silence.

She was a strong woman, never letting her children see the bruises or the scars, always with a kind and gentle smile. Sihtric should have known, Kjartan never hid his anger. Why had Sihtric never clued in that all that rage was being taken out on his poor mother?

Next to Uhtred; Sihtric clenched his fists.

Sihtric shuddered.

His hands clammy, his face pale. He caught Finan staring hard at him.

There had been some worry for Sihtric; Finan had held worry anyway. His friend didn't do well with death and this unfortunate accident was sure to bring back some sort of terrible trauma. Despite what Sihtric led people to believe over the last few days, inside he was still a boy, fighting for his life. The ghosts that were in Sihtric's head were beginning to come round in full force.

This wasn't about Shitric, which is why he had buried his emotions and focused everything he had on Uhtred and his family. Suppressing his emotions would only last so long, before the past came back. Sihtric shifted where he stood, his mouth dry as tears began to spill.

An accident had taken her away.

Sihtric had heard those words before. The police coming in and telling a family they had lost their mother, due to some unfortunate event. The difference was that this time it was an accident.

"Mom?" Sihtric could still hear his young voice, "Mom!" He called loudly, shaking his mother. When he didn't get a reply, he raced to the phone to call for help.

There had been so much blood. For nearly a year, Sihtric couldn't walk into the family room without fending off the urge to vomit. His body would shake and he would steady his breath, trying to push through in the best way he knew how.

"Your mother fell and hit her head." Kjartan's statement was cold.

At the time, Sihtric had been too grief stricken to realize, his mother's death was never just an accident. When the police had arrived, they were satisfied to claim it was exactly as Kjartan had said. She had fell and hit her head. As he grew older, Sihtric had dug deeper into the “accident”, finding what he had feared the most to be true. Without sufficient evidence, his hands were tied and his father got away with it.

If it hadn't been for forming a friendship with Uhtred; Sihtric felt that there were days, when he would have suffered the same fate as his mother. Uhtred would spend as much time with Sihtric as he could.

The two kids never discussed the bruises that Sihtric bore, they didn't need to. Uhtred wasn't stupid, he'd been the one who had told Ragnar that Kjartan was beating his youngest son. Sibbe, although aware of what was happening to her twin, had never suffered in the way Sihtric had.

If Kjartan had tried to raise a hand to his sister, Sihtric would have killed him. He would do anything, even now, to protect his sister.

Since becoming an adult, Sihtric had found that seeking help was a good way to begin the healing. He would never fully recover, who could? But he had made progress and had found some peace with his mother's passing.

Kjartan on the other hand - the only peace Sihtric would gain there was knowing that his monster of a father would never hurt his family, again.

Two years ago, when his father had finally died, Sihtric has spent two weeks in a drunken stupor. To an outsider it would sound terrible, but Sihtric had been so elated by his father's death, he didn't know what else to do.

Gisela, the shining light she was, had taken care of her husband's friend the best she could. All while still being the amazing and tentative mother and wife she was.

Sihtric had sat slumped on his bathroom floor, an empty bottle of tequila in his hand, a puddle of vomit next to the missed toilet. Tears staining his face, but Gisela didn't judge him. She had sat down, held open her arms, and let him cry until he fell asleep in her embrace.

"I could have saved her." He repeated over and over until he fell asleep.

"Sihtric, you were a boy. Nobody blames you, love." Gisela rocked him like one of her own children.

As much as Kjartan had tried, he could never break his son. Sihtric refused to be broken and defeated in the way his mother was. He had taken the abuse that Kjartan had decided to hand over without so much as a whimper.

If he showed pain or fear, Kjartan won. Sihtric refused to allow his father to win.

The first time Kjartan had hit Sihtric, the boy had been confused and drove himself crazy trying to figure out what it was he had done wrong. After a few weeks of taken a beating, for no reason, Sihtric thought he'd figured it out.

Kjartan was hurting, over the loss of his wife. Sihtric had taken it harder than anyone, being that he was the one who'd came home to find his mother. Obviously, his father didn't know how to cope.

A light breeze rippled through the grave yard, Sihtric felt the wind on his face, the sun still burning bright in the sky above. A father was to protect and love their children. When he'd learned the news of Gisela, one of the first things Sihtric had appointed himself was looking after the children.

He had been in their shoes once. Albeit Uhtred would never turn into the man Kjartan was, Sihtric had felt a need to protect the three young ones.

One day, Sihtric would settle down and have a family of his own. When he did, he would take everything he had learned about fatherhood from Kjartan and pursue none of it. He would love his children as fiercely as his mother - or Gisela. Sending his future children into the world with a firm and kind hand.

The loss of Gisela had taught him not to wait.

No more waiting, he would do it. He was getting down on one knee and asking Ealhswith to marry him. Sibbe would be thrilled, she'd always adored Ealhswith.

Sihtric had been in love with Ealhswith since her father had hired sixteen year old Shitric as a bus boy at Two Cranes. Ealhswith had been in her second year of university then, giving very little attention to the gawky boy working for her father.

Lying about his age to get the job in the pub, Sihtric also lied about his age to get a lease on an apartment with another young man working at the pub. Finan needed a roommate and Shitric needed a safe place for him and Sibbe to live.

Finan didn't ask many questions, although he knew Sihtric wasn't nineteen. His first year in college, Finan was more than happy to let the twins live with him. Shitric was a fantastic cook and Sibbe was always a breath of pure sunshine. Finan's own family life was estranged and he was no stranger to hard work and running away from an arsehole father.

Sihtric thanked his mother every day for sending him Ealhswith and Finan, when she had.

His mother had always known exactly what he needed. Sihtric snuffled through the tears, amused by the thought progression that his mind had taken. Scattered Sihtric is what Gisela would call him, teasing that he could never keep the same thought for more than a few moments.

Around him people began to move, parting ways, some retreating without so much as a word. Others forwarding their condolences as they prepared to leave. Sihtric stood rooted, his mind a million miles away. He could have stood there all night, allowing his own past to unravel, had his friend not needed him more.

"Shitric." Finan placed his hand on his shoulder, nodding his head toward Uhtred. Standing motionless, tears welled up in his eyes, and anger in his clenched fists, Uhtred stared at the grave. "Come on."

"Uhtred," Sihtric approached, his footsteps quiet in the grass. "We have to go, it'll be dusk soon."

"How? How do I leave her here?" Uhtred spoke, although his words weren't directly spoken to anyone.

"She'll be with you, our loved ones are always with us. I would be a liar, if I told you that it gets better, because it doesn't." Sihtric sighed, rocking on his heels, hands in his pockets. "It may never feel like you're whole again, but one day you wake up, you look outside and see the world and you know. You know she's with you and she's proud of you."

Uhtred's eyes red rimmed met Sihtric's gaze, a slow and dull nod let Sihtric know that his friend understood. A simple gesture between two men, told more than choked up words could.

@ceridwenofwales @laketaj24 @thewildbeauty @geekandbooknerd @therealcalicali @tiyetiye @pokeasleepingsmaug @goldentailedmermaids @sifshoney @wilddrabble @nxrdist @joyofbebbanburg @whenimaunicorn @carlya65 @kawennote09 @inforapound @tephi101 @shieldmaiden25 @naaladareia @captstefanbrandt

#sihtric elflaedsson #sihtric #modern sihtric #the last kingdom #tlk #let's be danes ⚔️#the last kingdom imagine #sihtric imagine #sihtric elflaedsson imagine #uhtred of bebbanburg #Finan the agile

46 notes · View notes

raleigh-ocean · 6 years ago

Text

you make loving fun

summary: Misty thought it was different and exciting. She had had her couple of experiences, for sure, but none of them was like the one she was living at the moment. It was slow yet passionate, complicated yet natural, suffocating yet freeing; and every time she got lost in Raleigh’s eyes, Misty thought about how much she wanted to get closer and closer to her. However she needed to control first how to not fall into her spell every time they touched.

words: 4, 695

N/A: again, another 2013 setting for Goode-Ocean-Day! This time is Misty’s turn with Raleigh, so I hope you enjoy it, it’s quite different from Cordelia’s ‘like none is watching’. In here Misty is 26 and Raleigh is 33!

Looking at her coffee - light coffee, like less than a quarter coffee and the rest milk, three spoons of sugar - Misty tried to wrap her head around what was going on.

The days at the Academy passed by in another light and with another rhythm. It wasn't bad at all, but she missed her shack and how she could go on her day as she liked.

Miss Foxx, miss Cordelia, was a dear to let her get used to the schedule and to the new methods she was learning. Misty liked their few classes alone, mostly because she was the only one interested in all the magic related to plants and potion craft. She always did better when there were just a few in the classroom instead of a lot, so being the only one Cordelia was teaching was a blessing.

The girls…well, she was sure the only one she would ever like was Nan. Misty still felt hesitant around Zoe, after all, and Madison wasn't her favourite. Queenie…well, she wasn't sure, she didn't see her again once she was back at the Academy.

And miss Raleigh…well, Leighs, was truly something else.

Lifting her free hand to rest it in her chest, Misty felt her cheeks heathen up with the memory from last night. She didn't need to pull down her vest to see the tiny love bits around her breasts, nor pull up the sleeves of the sweater - too big for her, a scent that wasn't hers all over it - to see where her own teeth sank in order to silence herself a couple times.

Misty didn't see herself getting that intimate with anyone but, oh Lord, there she was.

It happened naturally, as weird at it sounded, they didn't do much to be honest. Misty felt challenged by Raleigh and her never-ending questions and theories, making her head work ahead of whatever they were covering. But it also came with a tiny cup of frustration that ended up being the thing triggering such primal reaction. The first couple of times together had taught Misty that Raleigh was a too intense lover, but she welcomed that with open arms because it made her feel loved.

Wanted.

Misty also felt breathless with each kiss, sweet gestures that happened unexpectedly. She wanted to be more physical with the other woman, but soon she had learnt that Raleigh wasn't a big fan of the touchy stuff if she wasn't the one initiating. She wasn't too experienced in all these…couple-y things, but Misty was learning little by little in between lessons and it made her feel all these butterflies in her stomach with each new approach. Her father once told her about that feeling, but it wasn't till now that she could actually say she had felt it for real.

Smiling to herself, closing her eyes to recreate in some of the gestures and memories, Misty didn't see the woman she was thinking about walking in the kitchen with sleepy eyes.

"Ready for today's lesson?" her voice brought her back - and also the way Raleigh's index and middle fingers pinched softly in the cheek with care.

When she looked up to see her partner's hazel eyes, they still were deep and dark in spite of the morning light making them look like the autumn leaves outside. She still couldn't figure out what was hidden behind all that turmoil, all that confusion, but she didn't care.

They still had time to figure themselves out and Misty decided that, for that morning, she wanted to focus on how her teacher and lover made her feel.

"As ready as one can be," she chuckled at that, watching how the other woman managed to get some breakfast out of what the others had left.

"Good, today we are going over…protection spells," Raleigh approached her, mug and plate in her hands, and she left a single kiss in the crown of her head before taking a seat in front of her. It made her feel giddy with all those new feelings. "You already are catching up with the rest, so I'm letting you choose where do we have the lesson today."

Misty didn't care at all where they could have the lesson, as long as they were together it was okay for her. After muttering a soft 'let me think about it while you eat', she decided to focus in Raleigh for the time being. She still thought how could she has ended up in that situation, screwing her…teacher sounded like something her mother would have been scandalized to hear. But she was old enough to make her own decisions and this one in particular felt just right.

Humming to herself before sipping her coffee, Misty managed to feel her partner's magic reaching out for her weakly. She let it happen, drawing a soft half smile from Raleigh's lips before her own magic started to intertwine with hers much faster and stronger than intended.

"Miss Day, I suggest you to keep it together before I decide to drag you back to bed and forget about the lesson," the little honorific and the implied warning made her feel warmth spreading all over her lower stomach. "Also, I would like to finish my toast and my juice."

"I'm sorry," Misty chuckled, a bit ashamed about it, before reaching out to take Raleigh's hand over the table after making sure she was okay with it - she was, her little smile never leaving. "I can't help it, I'm still new at all this and I'm used to feel myself all over the place."

That wasn't a total lie, Misty always let her magic run free around her while she was at her shack. It not only helped greatly with her plants, but also with the feeling of being safe and sound in that place. She also used her magic to feel her surroundings, to play it safe. However now that she was leaving among her kind, she had to keep it at bay and learn to control it.

"I know, that's why I was telling you sugar," the sweet pet name rolled with easiness from Raleigh's tongue. "Not that I care if we are alone in private, but I think it would be a bit weird if I end up fucking you over the breakfast table."

Another thing that she liked about the other with was how honest and straightforward she was. Maybe that made her feel her face burning hot, not used to being that open to talk about that subject, but she squeezed Raleigh's hand and tried to focus in her magic flow. The change was subtle, but after a few minutes the sudden tension between them relaxed. Still linking hands Misty caressed Raleigh's knuckles absent-minded, her eyes closed while focusing in how their magic flows worked together, until she felt a soft tug.

"Great job," she didn't need to open her eyes to see how her smile grew a bit more. "Now come here, reward kiss always make it better."

Misty opened her eyes only to find how Raleigh was looking at her hungrily, as if she was waiting for the touch of lips to go all in and skip their class. Something in the back of her rational part told her to not take the offer, full knowing what would happen and also that she needed that class if she wanted to keep going with her classes in the greenhouse. So she decided to pull a desperate method out of her now fuzzy mind.

Obeying after another light tug in her hand, Misty circled the table to stand by Raleigh's side. Even with the height difference reverted, she knew she was in the line of her plan being successful or being a complete disaster. Misty leant for the kiss, feeling how a hand was placed in her waist, and smiled a bit when their lips locked together…

…and then she pulled away before her brain decided to give in the welcoming and addictive intensity that were Raleigh's lips.

"The Ancestral room then?" Misty was trying to ignore the confused look in the other woman's eyes and the low groan for pulling away. "I think we'll have more room to practice."

Maybe taking Raleigh by surprise was what made her be able to escape from the kitchen. She was too dumbfounded to actually manage to catch her, so she only decided to finish her breakfast before following the blonde woman to the place she chose for today's lesson. Raleigh didn't need to go get changed, after all the class only consisted in them so she just showed up in her pajamas.

Misty was already in the couch waiting for her, reading the book she had lent her when they started. Raleigh thought for a second about surprising her from behind and get a much longer kiss, but she was mildly blinded by the intensity of Misty's overall aura.

For a second it made her forget how much she hated the Ancient Room and its portraits.

"Which one we are goin' to try?" Misty couldn't help but ask as soon as the other woman entered her view.

"Page one eighty, third paragraph," going to the page quickly, it left the Cajun time to observe how her companion seemed a bit distracted by the room. "Do you remember the trick I teached you? Try to do it again while reading so by the time you read it out loud, your body is ready."

Leaving the need to ask what's going on in Raleigh's head, Misty took some air in and let it out softly while reaching for her magic.

That was another thing she liked about her, how she approached everything so naturally yet so controlled. She wished to know how did she got all that knowledge in such a short time, but she felt like she wasn't going to get that answer soon nor from her lover.

Although Misty knew Raleigh was a bit distracted, they spent the morning trying spells and going over a lot of theory that bored her to no end. Raleigh's lessons were pretty lineal, so it was easy to follow them and not get lost. Closing her book around midday, they sat in silence in the couch after the older woman thought it was enough for her class with Cordelia. She managed to cast most of them without much effort, having the last one as the more difficult, which it left her feeling her arms like jelly for some reason.

Bringing her legs to her chest, Misty dedicated the moment in silence to think about how to act around Raleigh to get her more comfortable. It didn't escape from Misty how the woman was being extra careful with whatever happened around her, always trying to avoid any kind of trouble. Even her stance there in the couch was one of someone that didn't feel at home at all. Raleigh was sat in the couch as if she was a guest, her hands laced in her lap and looking at the ceiling absent-minded.

She wasn't able to come up with something to say, but her partner seemed to read her mind unknowingly, striking conversation.

"I think it's time for lunch," she didn't move at all from her position but Misty got curious what she was going to say. "Do you want me to stay or to leave?"

The question weirded the swamp witch out, making her tilt her head ever so softly to discern if she was being serious about that. Raleigh had again that pensive look in her eyes that freaked her out sometimes. As if she wasn't there at all. It made Misty wish to lean on her and kiss it away, but she felt self-conscious about possibly making the other woman uncomfortable with the sudden touch.

In a desperate move, she closed their distance in the couch until she was sitting right by her side and put her fingers over Raleigh's.

"Stay," Misty smiled softly when Raleigh let her intertwine their fingers; awkwardly yes, but she did it. "It’s much better when you’re around."

It took her a couple seconds to swift from her ‘teacher’ persona to herself, but Misty noticed the subtle change immediately. Looking around to see if they were still alone, she squeezed Raleigh’s hand softly and then it only took her to close the distance finally, placing her free hand in her jaw - away from the scar, away from what it made her flinch every time.

Raleigh looked at her as if the touch brought her back to Earth. She frowned, making her gesture turn a bit harsher than intended and then Misty gave her a soft peck. Enough for the other woman to lick her lips, ready to go for another one more intense, but Misty didn’t give yet again.

“Let’s get somethin’ and go outside,” she pulled Raleigh up with her, both now standing up, and their hands found a way to stay connected without being fully laced - Misty’s index holding Raleigh’s pinky. “C’mon Leighs.”

As soon as they were in the kitchen again, Misty let go of the contact to just take off the sweater and tied it around her waist. That drew Raleigh’s eyes, she felt them in her, but if she was going to say or do something it never happened. The rest of the residents of the house started to show up for lunch, making the taller woman to stay silent and again in her shell. Misty gave her an apologetical look when Cordelia approached her, new mismatched eyes full of excitement for the incoming class.

But it was too late for Raleigh to notice anyway, already turning to give both women their space.

As the afternoon went by, Misty found herself forgetting for a moment about the woman she left inside the house, the plants and the new ways of magic clouding her head along with Cordelia’s presence. It was easy to be around her too, she had a similar approach to teaching as Raleigh but at the same time it was completely different. That was what made her forget about the method the other woman had taught her, failing to perform the spell at the first try.

However, as soon as she watched how the plant started to bloom in front of her eyes, Misty felt her magic grow as well. She tugged at it with all her strength, now reminding the trick, and poured it into the plant. Cordelia’s back was facing her so she missed how much faster it actually grew; when she squealed in delight she had her full attention again.

Something inside of Misty twisted, a new idea forming in her brain while a playful smile formed in her lips. Not even that poor choice of a man Cordelia was divorcing ruined her inner mood, staying by her friend as a silent support.

After the surprise visit and gathering all the protective berries from the vines, Misty couldn’t help but feel excited to show her progress to Raleigh during dinner…

...but it only lead to worry when her usual spot was empty.

“She told Zoe she was going to nap,” Nan’s voice was a mere whisper once Misty settled by her side in the dining table. “But I still hear her thoughts from time to time,” the girl flinched a bit. “Must be writing or practicing, she always forget to keep them to herself.”

The rest of the table didn’t seem to worry much about the absence, as it was something recurring, so the only thing Misty could do was eat and once the rest were gone was get some food for the other woman. It wasn’t the first time she did that, but that time felt more...special for some reason. Maybe it was because she had saved a couple of berries especially for her, or maybe it was because she was trying to approach her again with the gentleness Raleigh seemed to need.

She felt the magic inside the room, faintly moving around, and it left Misty with her hand lifted and about to knock. Should she disturb her peace by knocking or should she come in silence? Misty decided to got for the second option, entering the room just to find Raleigh deep in thought, looking at the notebook in front of her, having her fist pressed against her forehead to support herself.

Closing the distance with care, Misty finally saw that Raleigh wasn’t ‘deep in thought’ at all. She had fallen asleep there, sitting at the desk, and the only thing that stopped her from falling all over her stuff was her own arm. There was something peaceful in her gesture, something that made her look younger but at the same time tired beyond her comprehension.

Leaving the bowl with rice and sauce in a place where she knew it wouldn’t be in danger, Misty wondered if she was strong enough to carry her to bed.

“Dreaming or did I died?” a little mumble and Raleigh stirring awake startled Misty softly. “What an angel would do here if not?”

“Charmer,” the word made Raleigh chuckle shortly and her hand reached for Misty’s, pulling her closer and making her rest her arm over her shoulders. That the woman nuzzled her face against her belly, still sleepy, sent Misty over the moon since she never saw her act like that.

“You like it, sweetcheeks,” Raleigh passed her arm around Misty’s thighs to hug her like that, the position being ideal for that. The swamp witch felt Raleigh’s content hum travel all over her body when she pressed her face a bit more against her. “I’m hungry.”

"I'd worry if you weren't, you skipped dinner," another hum when Misty started to massage her scalp softly with her fingers. "I've got you some rice," Raleigh didn't move, groaning a bit in response when Misty's hand lowered and focused in the knot of stress in the back of her neck. "And…I made something at the greenhouse too, brought you some to try."

If Misty didn't see the stars in Raleigh's sleepy eyes when she looked up to that, she didn't know what else could be. Placing now her chin in her belly, the tired witch waited curious until her partner pulled out of her pocket one of the berries. She opened her mouth and closed her eyes, waiting for it.

It was perfect timing, or that she thought.

Misty felt nervous for real but it didn't stop her. Placing the berry between her lips, she cupped Raleigh's cheeks with her hands ever so softly and lowered enough to feed her like that. Raleigh hummed against Misty's lips, sending another wave of excitement all over her body, and munched on the berry before pressing their lips together in another peck.

"Tasty, regular berry or magic berry?" Misty didn't have time to distance herself from the woman and ended up being pulled in her lap.

"Magic, miss Cordelia said they were for protection," she did miss the change in Raleigh's gesture when she nuzzled her neck with her nose, leaving a love bite close to her collarbones. "Double protection, right?"

"Source and product, double trouble," the low laugh from the taller woman got her insides tingling and ready for anything, and she let Raleigh to accommodate her better to be comfortable as much as they could in the desk chair.

Raleigh had taught her how magic could double its effects just by how it was performed or given to other.

A new kiss in her neck made Misty finally tilt her head enough and let Raleigh kiss her fully in the lips. Another thing to the list that she loved: how it didn't matter where they were, making out sessions sent her to cloud nine in a quick snap of her fingers. Still, she wanted to keep her sanity and when Raleigh placed her hand in her lower stomach, Misty pulled away by placing her own in the middle of her chest. She was so close to just give in.

Raleigh groaned at that, more audible this time, and actually voiced what was crossing her mind.

"I don't know what are you trying to do," she didn't open her eyes but Misty knew they were probably clouded with that darker mellow tone. "But it's driving me nuts."

"I just- Leighs, I swear," Misty's breath got caught in her throat when she received a trail of kisses up her neck. "I just want to slow down a bit dear."

And then Raleigh was all awake. Misty felt how her body stiffened under her weight. She heard her swallow and how her hands moved to safest positions, just holding her by wrapping her arms around her middle.

"Am I too much?"

"No, no-Raleigh, you aren't, you are perfect," Misty hurried that and pulled a bit away to look at her better. "It's… I want to get to know you, like, spendin' time together and givin' you the whole nine, y'know?"

If Raleigh did understand, she didn't show it but her worried gesture eased at her words. Taking a deep breath to clear her mind, she only moved a bit to give Misty a couple gentle pats in her thigh. She let a new low laugh go and reached for the bowl with her food. As if she knew something Misty didn't.

"Let's try Mimi, let's try," was her final sentence, looking up to Misty with the ghost of a soft smirk in her lips. "Would you want to… stay here for the night then?"

As an answer, the only thing Misty did was giving her two quick kisses and a mumbled 'let me get my other dress' before leaving as fast as the wind. The expectation of actually sleeping together in another light as the usual was exciting for her.

When she got back to Raleigh's room, the notebooks on the desk were piled up under the bowl as if it was the only thing holding back whatever they hid. Since they started to see each other, Misty always wondered about what was written in them. Once she even was tempted to take a peek over Raleigh's shoulder, but something in the back of her mind - a voice too similar to her mother's - held her back from doing so.

"I know that you don't mind but…" she looked how Raleigh was accommodating the single bed for both. "Maybe we have to sleep a bit tight."

Misty shook her head and reached for Raleigh's hands with more confidence, being welcomed with a nervous smile. Maybe she was the one being too much. Her eyes caught the concoction-stained glass in the night stand and how groggy seemed Raleigh now that she was looking at her that close. Misty had absolutely no idea what the heck the whole thing had, but she didn't like how it reduced the other woman to that state.

"If I'm with ya, it doesn't matter," she giggled and pulled Raleigh with her to bed, made them both lie down and find the right position in such tiny space. "Aren'you hot with these long sleeves?"

Raleigh only shook her head, catching Misty's fingers with hers and lace them together before she could pull up the fabric. Even like that, her will was still strong.

They manage to accommodate - more than a half of Misty on top of Raleigh - and soon Misty found herself thinking about how to do small talk with the woman that was holding her. She felt her steady heart beat like a drum that kept drawing her in and soon she started to focus on that. It made her forget about her desire to make small talk or any talk at all. Yawning big, the tiredness kicking in from the long day, Misty cuddled her lover better before receiving a kiss on the lips - one that was trying to be soft even when it lingered a bit too much to actually be a peck.

"Tomorrow we can talk," there was a hint of something she couldn't put her head on but she brushed it off as a side effect from the concoction Cordelia made Raleigh take - the same one that kept her mouth tasting like iron and flowers. "There's no rush, sweetcheeks."

If someone would have asked Raleigh about the current situation, she would have probably panicked the second the question would've dropped.

Maybe the changes were meant to be good but there were messing up with her brain in too many ways. She was supposed to grow from the discomfort, she was supposed to start enjoying the time she had missed, she was supposed to be an adult when she felt that she was just that eighteen years old girl she thought she was less than two months ago.

Misty, in her own bliss, didn’t see this however.

There was something in her that kept going for the new sensations, to be reciprocated by the other woman as much as she could and taking it fully, whatever it was.

The next day was a busy one, nonetheless, and the tiny exchanges kept happening in between meals and dark corners at the Academy. It was different, it was exciting, it was something new that made them both expect with anticipation their next encounter. Misty learnt about what Raleigh’s power could do, but never what it did directly to her; she learnt about her habits properly, yet she caught herself being slightly annoyed by them; she also learnt about what connected Raleigh with Cordelia, but didn’t dwell that much in the matter nor about how deep the wound was getting.

Raleigh, in her end, took shelter in Misty’s blissful ignorance. It made her almost forget all the bad things building inside of her; it made her not focus in the poor choices that were being made around her and make her head spin, her muted power warning her from the incoming doom. Looking at Misty smiling fired something in her chest and her whole being, wondering if she really deserved all the seemingly good things she meant.

Until Misty was gone and Cordelia sacrificed her new eyes in order to bring her back, Raleigh really thought that maybe she could escape from her own Hell on Earth.

But that was a story for another time.

Now it was much better to think about how Misty couldn’t help to finally fall into Raleigh’s arms, not having a chance anymore thanks to the need she herself had built in both but keeping everything lowkey. It was much easier to focus in how their bodies worked together, than how her minds did.

They had been practicing new spells, and the former only wanted to give the latter a reward kiss for her good job. The kiss had escalated too fast to be stopped and soon the Cajun witch was straddling Raleigh in the desk chair from her bedroom - the same one where she had found herself a couple days ago, telling the other to take everything slow.

With a muffled cry against Raleigh’s shoulder, Misty came undone, her body was still trembling from the climax when her lover hugged her tightly so she didn’t get cold. Her arms providing endless warmth and inviting her to just stay there for the rest of the afternoon, being cuddled and kissed and loved. A breathless low chuckle got Raleigh’s attention, but she didn’t open her eyes, just enjoying the feeling of Misty all over her, with her body, her magic, her everything.

“You knew this was goin’ to happen, right?”

Raleigh’s laugh shook her to her very own core, receiving a kiss on the lips from her not long after. One of those long kisses that made her feel like she was drowning and the other woman was her only saviour. One of those that made her lose her mind.

“Oh sugar, I didn’t need my power to know.”

She nuzzled her nose under Misty’s jaw to make her tilt a bit her neck and kiss her there. It was enough to make her giggle and forget about everything else.

#misty day #misty day x original character #raleigh ocean #ahs coven #american horror story #original character

19 notes · View notes

flowerfan2 · 6 years ago

Text

Melt With You

McDanno, 1600k, T, A03

It had been a tough day, and an awful case. But tomorrow is Valentine’s, and Steve is determined to cheer Danny up.

(Thanks to the wonderful @lavvyan for the prompt <3)

__________

Steve stood in his office, giving up on unbuttoning his torn shirt and instead tugging it off over his head. It had been a long, tough day. Even though they had succeeded in rescuing the kidnapped girl, the fact that she had been held for a week by her abusive uncle before Five-0 found her was weighing on him.

The day had taken a toll on Danny, too. Steve took a spare shirt out of a drawer and pulled it on, watching his partner through the glass. Danny was slumped on his desk, leaning on one elbow, poking half-heartedly at his keyboard with his other hand. Cases with kids always hit him hard.

The rest of the team had already left for the night, just as exhausted as the two of them. It was time to head out. Steve came into Danny’s office, but Danny didn’t even look up.

“Hey, you okay?”

A shrug. “I want to finish this report.”

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Just like that girl’s parents waited to call the cops?”

“Danny.” Steve came around behind him and put his hands on Danny’s shoulders, which tensed under his touch. “Come on, let’s call it a night.”

Danny ducked his head and didn’t answer. Steve leaned closer, letting his hands slide down Danny’s arms, over his taut biceps, and down to his hands. He tangled their fingers together, pulling Danny’s hands off the desk and folding Danny’s arms across his chest, Steve’s face tucked against the side Danny’s neck from behind.

“What’re you doing?” Danny grumbled. “We’re at work.”

“Nobody’s here. And I’m not exactly ravishing you.”

Danny huffed and squirmed against Steve’s hold. “You’re ridiculous.” His voice was tight, and he pressed his face to Steve’s arm, hiding his eyes.

Steve gripped him firmly. “You’re okay, Danno. We’re okay.” He pressed a kiss to the back of Danny’s head, swaying a little as he held him tight. “It’s late. Let’s go home.”

Danny sniffed, still not making any move to get up.

“Come on, we’ll call Gracie from the car.”

“Yeah?” Mention of his daughter never failed to cheer Danny up, even when he was at his lowest.

“Yeah. And we need to talk - I’ve got an idea, for a Valentine’s Day surprise for her.”

“For Grace?” Danny stretched and let Steve pull him up out of the chair. “What kind of idea?”

“I’m gonna sing her a song.”

“A song?”

“Am I not speaking English? Yeah, I’m gonna sing her a song. Tomorrow. ”

Danny followed Steve out of the office, perking up. “You – you don’t make any sense in any language, let alone English. Why would you sing Gracie a song? On Valentine’s Day?”

“To embarrass her, of course.”

Suddenly Danny stopped walking in the middle of the hallway, a mischievous look spreading across his face.

“What?” Steve asked.

“You’re a genius – sometimes. But I’ve got the perfect song.”

Their debate over which songs were the sappiest and therefore most appropriate for the occasion carried them all the way back to Steve’s house. Steve was fond of “I Just Called To Say I Love You,” but Danny pointed out that while that made sense if he did it over the phone, it would pack a lot more punch if he did it in person.

“Might as well show up at her school. Sing to her in front of her friends. Maximum embarrassment value,” Danny argued.

Steve had in fact been planning on doing it over the phone. “So I’m just supposed to barge in to her algebra class and start singing?”

“Gotta put that immunity and means to use, babe. And I’m thinking chemistry class, it’ll go better with the theme. She’s got a crush on her teacher, it’ll be awesome.”

Steve was rooting around in the refrigerator. It was late, but they had been eating junk all day, and he felt the need for something a little less processed. He found a half-decent apple and tossed it to Danny, who caught it with one hand and grinned.

“Thanks.” Danny hopped up to sit on the counter, taking a big bite and ignoring the juice that dripped down his hand. “Grace is gonna love this.”

“You think?” Steve had found another apple, but it was pretty beat up, so he tossed it in the trash.

“I know.”

“Just like she loves it when you embarrass her?” Steve adored how Danny was so affectionate with his kids, and he knew they liked it too, embarrassed or not.

“Exactly.”

Steve came over to Danny and kissed him, the sweet taste of the apple bright on his tongue. Danny blinked at him, his blue eyes wide. Then he turned away, smirking, and took another bite.

“You’ve got apple juice on your sleeve,” Steve said, grabbing a dishtowel and swiping at Danny’s arm. “You want to go change? I’ve got plenty of clean t-shirts for you to use as napkins.”

“Aw, babe, I thought you liked me just the way I am?”

Steve snorted. “Don’t go changing? Does Gracie even know Billy Joel?”

“’Course she does. She’s not a heathen.”

They made their way to the couch, Danny going back into the kitchen after a few minutes to grab beer and a bag of pretzels. Steve messed around with his guitar, trying to get it to tune properly. He was never really sure when it was ready, generally he just screwed around with it long enough to make Danny impatient, and then started playing.

“All right, how about this one?” Steve strummed a few unrelated chords, and then sang soulfully “Can… you feel… the love tonight…?”

“Nah,” Danny interrupted. “It won’t be nighttime. Plus Disney’s more Charlie’s speed at the moment. Hey, you could sing for Charlie too-”

“Nope, not tomorrow, let’s not get carried away.”

“All right, all right. Fine. How about this one?” Danny took a breath, made a face, and then sang in a surprisingly appealing tenor, “Isn’t she lovely? Isn’t she wonderful? Isn’t she precious? Less than one minute old. Da da da da, something something, da da da da, da da, isn’t she lovely, made from love?”

Steve felt something warm bloom in his chest, and he just stared at Danny for a minute.

“What?” Danny grabbed his beer from the table and took a drink. “I can sing too.”

“You’ve got a really nice voice,” Steve said.

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Sorry.” Steve looked down at his guitar and strummed a few chords to give himself a minute to breathe, and then started to play, humming at first and then singing softly. “Crazy for you, touch you once and you’ll know it’s true. I never wanted anyone like this, it’s all brand new, you’ll feel it in my kiss. I’m crazy for you.”

“That’s not really an appropriate song for Grace,” Danny said, quiet, when Steve had finished singing.

“No.”

Danny took the guitar out of Steve’s hands and placed it carefully on the floor, and then moved in close to fold Steve into his arms. “Thank you, babe,” Danny said.

“It’s really sappy,” Steve mumbled.

“I know. I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Danny’s hand came up to hold Steve’s cheek, and then they were kissing, easy and familiar and full of love. Steve pulled Danny closer, up on top of him on the couch. Things started to heat up, Danny’s weight pressing down against him and sending all the blood in Steve’s body rushing south.

“Bed?” Danny asked after a few minutes, hair mussed and sticking up every which way.

“Bed.”

Later, naked and lazy under the sheets, Steve traced a heart on Danny’s chest. “We’re going to wake up together on Valentine’s Day, and spend the whole day together.”

Danny laughed. “Unless you find the need to go for a pre-dawn swim and abandon me.”

“I think I can skip it tomorrow.”

“And we do have to go to work.”

Steve shrugged against Danny’s chest. “It should be a slow day. Plenty of time to stop by Grace’s school.”

“What if we catch a case?”

“Tani and Junior can handle it. Lou can babysit.”

“Better not let them hear you say they need babysitting.”

“They don’t. But Lou enjoys it.”

Danny stretched, his arms going up over his head, and Steve pressed a kiss to his pecs, then to a nipple.

“Hey, you really want to go again? Not that the idea isn’t appealing, but I’m wiped.”

“Nah. Just enjoying the scenery.”

“With your mouth?” Danny grinned at Steve. “You’re an animal.”

“And you love me.”

“That I do.” Steve took one of Danny’s hands and held it to his lips, kissing his knuckles gently.

“You really are a sap,” Danny said, his voice breathy.

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Steve said, glancing over at the clock. “Almost.”

“Better get your beauty sleep.”

Steve tucked himself up against Danny, their hands twined together on Danny’s chest. He rubbed his thumb over Danny’s skin, down to his wrist and up over his fingers, back and forth. He tried to let himself drift off, but words kept running through his mind.

“I’ve got another one, you know,” Steve said finally.

“Another song?” Danny’s voice rumbled in his chest, under Steve’s ear.

“Yup.” Steve debated going to get his guitar, but he was so warm and safe here nestled up against Danny, he couldn’t bear to leave.

“You gonna sing it for me?”

“Yeah, I am.” Steve thought about how very grateful he was for Danny, and for the amazing way he had changed his life forever. He closed his eyes, held Danny close, and began to sing.

This is the first day of my life. Swear I was born right in the doorway. I went out in the rain, suddenly everything changed. They’re spreading blankets on the beach.

Yours was the first face that I saw. I think I was blind before I met you…

_____________

Notes: The title is from Modern English’s Melt With You, one of the other songs Steve was considering singing, before he went the completely sappy route. The songs Steve and Danny do sing in this story include Billy Joel’s Just The Way You Are, Can You Feel The Love Tonight from the Lion King, Stevie Wonder’s Isn’t She Lovely, Madonna’s Crazy For You, and Bright Eyes’ First Day of My Life.

And honestly, if you haven’t seen this video of couples/families/friends listening to First Day of My Life , watch it now, you’ll be glad you did. I cry pretty much every time.

#mcdanno #H50 #Valentine's Day #fluff #@lavvyan

37 notes · View notes

isleofandroids · 6 years ago

Text

Partners: Part Two (RK900 x Reader)

Fandom Detroit: Become Human

Word Count 1,873

Summary After being paired with the new addition to the DPD, you have to learn how to deal with the post-android events

PART ONE

Tags @x6-15 @sherlockspie @yallgotkik @avereality @riridmanngrl @jamiethenerdymonster @not-a-kat

—

The Detroit Police Department was buzzing with phone calls and randomized conversations between coworkers. Their voices filled the ears of the second deviant hunter as he sat at his desk, going through files to get himself refocused on the mission. The same whirring sensation from the day before was constantly in the back of the RK900’s software once he stepped into the building that morning and saw no sign of you. It was unlike his partner to show up late - possibly not at all - but even while the two of you worked cases together, he found your absence irrelevant to any investigations. Allowing himself to emit any worry for a human would conclude that he was having instability issues, and that couldn't happen.

However, he couldn't help but wonder. You were upset yesterday, which only grew to fury once he tried to get you to see reason. The situation was odd. The android had trouble calculating exactly what had happened, only coming to the conclusion that the shooting was the reason for your behavior. But why? The suspect ran away from its owners, evaded police, and refused to cooperate. It didn't plan on leaving with them, he could tell. Why couldn't you see that?

The attention of some employees were caught by a figure strolling in, sunglasses on and hands stuffed in the front pockets of their jacket. If it was possible, the android detective straightened his posture even more, adjusting his jacket. Blue orbs trailed your path as you took slow strides toward the desk across from the new recruit. He analyzed your current state - tired eyes, sluggish movement, posture more slouched than the times you held a sense of laziness when on desk duty. As a courtesy, he waited until you were seated to state his findings. “Your blood alcohol content is only .15 below the minimum intoxication level. You went back to the bar when we parted ways yesterday.”

You brought your index and middle finger together, sending the man a salute. “Bingo, Mr. Robot.”

Conner opened and closed his mouth several times as his LED flashed yellow, failing at computing a proper response. At the lack of comeback you raised an eyebrow, but only shrugged and occupied yourself quickly with recent case files. The RK900 continued to eye you, leaning over from his own space with arms crossed atop the surface. “I found a case on another missing android. Shall we head out after you're ready?”

It took a few minutes of papers shuffling and things being set down before you brought your gaze up to his, copying his action as you leaned in closer. Plastering a wry smile you asked, “Why? So you can shoot them before I get a real chance at getting them to cooperate?” You moved back into the computer chair and shook your head. “No thanks.”

The brunette tilted his head, possible ways of getting you to agree flitting through his system. Simply pulling you along wasn't going to do a thing unless he wanted more anger thrown his way. Stating the facts processed within his software the same way as before certainly would've been the wrong approach. If reasoning was going to be done, then it had to be with words that would get your cooperation and still have truth to them. “I will refrain from interfering with your choice of approach.” At your bored look, he added, “Doing so will only aid in a failed or delayed completion of the investigation. And I have no intentions of failing at all, Detective L/N.”

For a short moment all Conner received was a humming sound to ensure you were processing his words. Surely someone as determined as him wouldn't lie, especially when no matter how intelligent he was created to be, a human was still needed to empathize and make things easier when dealing with rogues. You sighed and nodded your head. Pushing the seat away from the desk, you stood up, grumbling about not even getting a chance to unwind. Your partner moved to follow, steps in sync with yours almost immediately. The walk to the car was quiet, the only exchange being when you asked him to give directions. Once the vehicle started down the road, it was all exactly that. There was no chatting about irrelevant things, teasing, or back and forth - just two people on their way to getting a job done.

Admittedly, the lack of conversation was beginning to weigh down. Usually, it wouldn't be a problem. However, the fact that nothing was happening because he upset her somehow didn't sit well with him. There were multiple subjects that could be brought up to most likely open the idea of starting a conversation. Each one more cliche than the last - weather, favorite things, pointless small talk. Was there nothing that would grab your attention? As he contemplated the current situation, his memory recalled the one and only time he'd been inside your apartment. Most of the information stored about your person were bits taken from what he saw and read. Your hobbies, where you liked to go, the places you traveled, some family members and friends. But the thing that stood out the most was your dog. A [breed] that was only a year old, but had an issue with one of its legs that day.

“Has it received medical attention?” You glanced over, confusion written all over your face. “Your dog. If my memory is correct, its front left leg was suffering from an unexplainable cause of injury.”

“Oh.” He hadn't been in your place for weeks now. “My dog is fine. She stayed overnight at a veterinary clinic - I've had her in some kind of physical therapy session since then.” Your fingers tapped against the steering wheel as you took a turn sharp turn. “I didn’t think you noticed.”

Conner nodded his head, eyes focused on the road as the remainder of the road instructions sat in the back of his mind. “We are partners, Detective. It proves to be more productive if we at least attempt at cooperating with one another.”

“Oh, is that why you would change the subject every time I tried to ask a personal question?” You asked condescendingly.

He took a few seconds to think about the response. “You try to see me as more than what I was made to be. What your kind deem hobbies or interests have no place in my creation. I have one goal and one initiative - to accomplish my mission in hunting and deactivating deviants. All other aspects that would make one human are of no use to me. Foremost, I am and will always be a machine.”

A newfound absence of sound arose during the time you mulled over his answer. You found it ridiculous how he constantly shut down the possibility that he could be or become as human as many other androids have. There were discrete differences in his behavior from when he first arrived to now. The way he addressed things, starting conversations unrelated to work or deviants, actually wanting to know about coworkers’ personal lives. So much already counted as a sign of software instability, but no matter how large the change seemed, you saw how he always managed to snap himself back into machine mode without doing the daily self assessment. Was it really such a horrible thing? Having free will and being able to fully express yourself? It was what everyone in America wanted and what most (including CyberLife’s technological beings) were able to have. It didn't help that Connor RK800 was already well into deviancy and expressing his emotions more when the newer model arrived. It just fueled the need to successfully complete the mission without letting anything disrupt his programming or focus. Including who he was assigned to work with (when push came to shove).

Conner, on the other hand, did in fact understand your underlying frustrations. After sensing the distinct change in your tone of voice each time those kind of moments occurred, he would take short time in assessing that you had hope in his transference. The reason was beyond what he was capable of guessing, and making assumptions only ever seemed to dim a talk into negative reactions and situations. The self assessments done each night after work were done to ensure he would not become one of those heathens, yet the same question always rose up when he spoke to Amanda.

“Have they succeeded?”

“Of course not.” He always said, completely aware of who the woman spoke of. “No one has been or will be able to corrupt my programming. I am confident that I will complete my mission without system disruption.”

Yet here he was. In the car with someone who made his wires and gears work the wrong way. Someone who would immediately question his being a machine from a simple comment, ask or action. Someone who just the day before caused his insides to whir around in a way that made him shut down in confusion - even if only for a few seconds.

Suddenly their tires came to a halt, and the brunette's head turned to look out the window. A large warehouse loomed over the car, light clouds fading away the darker the sky became as afternoon turned into evening. Windows were broken and doors were boarded shut. Trees and shrubs covered the surrounding area, puddles remained in the gravel from the previous storm, and most of the building's paint was chipped off or covered in graffiti.

“Well,” You clicked your tongue, “this looks like a fun place.” You muttered sarcastically, turning off the engine and opening the door. Noticing the lack of movement from the other figure, you bent down to look at him. “Are you coming or not?”

“I am.” Without much else than a slight nod, you shrugged and closed the door. As you went around the vehicle to start toward the entrance for the seemingly abandoned location, the 900 model glanced about the small leather space. Once the needed item was found somewhere in the backseat, he grabbed it and followed, again catching up and synchronizing his steps with yours. A hand held something out in front as you walked, and you glanced down to find a water bottle, raising an eyebrow at the object. “The blood alcohol content in your system has only decreased another .05 as your body broke away the liquor when you drove. However, your kidneys hold five percent of any consumption. Drinking enough water will assist in detoxifying your blood and prevent possible dehydration later on in the day.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but discovered nothing was going to be spoken from the amount of surprise the gesture gave. You cleared your throat, taking the bottle and unscrewing the cap before immediately chugging down a third of the clear liquid. Glancing up at the man, you screwed the plastic top back on. “Thank you.” You uttered, taking a quicker pace and continuing to survey the building and surrounding area.

Taken back by the two words he never heard leave your lips - at least not in his direction - his steps ceased. There was a beat of a pause as he watched you near a corner of the warehouse. “You're welcome, Detective L/N.”

“And stop being so formal. It's weird.” He heard you mutter.

His arms went behind his back, hands folded together neatly as he got back into matching your rhythm. “Yes, Y/N.”

Software Instability ^

#dbh connor #detroit connor #detroit become human #dbh #detroit become human rk900 #detroit: bh #rk900 #rk900 x reader #connor rk900 #fanfic #fanfiction

140 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

Text

Survey #473

“please don’t make any sudden moves / you don’t know the half of the abuse”

Who are the 3 people you love the most? My mom, Sara, and Girt. Last person you slept in the same bed with? Sara. When is the last time you took a picture of yourself? It's been quite a long time. When was your first kiss? March of 2012. Have you recently been sick? No. Don't jinx it, especially these days. What song are you listening to? A slowed down version of "Heathens" by twenty one pilots. I REALLY like it. Do you drink soda often? Every day. :x Would you ever move somewhere like Hawaii? NOOOOOOO. I would NEVER survive living in the tropics. Have you ever had to call 911? Why? Twice for my mom. Once we thought she was having a heart attack, and the second time she had such bad abdominal pain that she was almost entirely immobilized. It was that day we found out about the cancer. Do you get out a lot? God no. Name 3 things you really like about yourself (not physical). I have a lot of empathy, I love and care a lot about animals, and I care a lot about what other people feel and always wanna make people feel better. Name 3 things you hate about yourself (not physical). My anxiety is #1, then there's how lazy I can be, and how I jump to conclusions. Would you ever consider having an abortion? If I was raped, it was ectopic (that barely even counts as one, though...), or it greatly endangered my life, yes. In which state/country were you born? North Carolina, U.S.A. Have you ever had to be put on medicine for a mental disorder? Yeah, quite a lot... I've gone through probably around three dozen different psych meds since middle school. White chocolate or milk chocolate? Milk. I can eat white chocolate in small doses, but it's generally too sweet for me. Have you ever been to an amusement park out of state? Yeah, Disney World in Florida. Would you consider yourself a crafty person? No. I'm much better at putting stuff on paper than creating stuff with my hands. What would you say is your favorite color of all time? Baby pink! Have you ever been responsible for someone’s death? Y E E S H no. Do you ever spend the night with your significant other? Not yet. We're still iffy about sleeping in the same spot though because of my sleep apnea nightmares. My new mask seems to be working great, though; I haven't had a nightmare in like a week (and keep in mind they're usually every single night), I'm just WAY too scared to lash out at him in my sleep. I need a longer period of proof it's functioning well. Do you know a lot about serial killers? No. Have the police ever been looking for you? Yes, actually. One time when my sisters, a friend, and I were at the beach, we went walking by the shore at night, after we thought we told our parents we were going. Apparently, we didn't, or they didn't hear us, because my mom was an absolute collapsing wreck and called the police to search for us. We got back to the hotel so confused, and I'll never forget how Mom was crying. Where do you get most of your accessories from? I wanna say Hot Topic? Do you cuss more than anyone else you know? Yes, actually. Have there ever been any serial killers around your hometown? Idk. Did your parents live in a different country before you were born? No. What’s something you’ve experienced that very few others have? I'd say going to a psych hospital five or six times isn't exactly common. I am so fucking glad those days are over. Do you know anyone who’s related to a current or former world leader? Not to my knowledge, no. Do you do your own taxes, or do you hire a professional? I don't have taxes. Do you have a home security system? No, but damn do I want one. What’s something you don’t think people take seriously enough? Our environmental crises, like global warming, deforestation, fossil fuels... basically just anything that involves us murdering the environment. People just don't fucking care because it's not "personal" enough, I guess. Or a fast-acting downfall. It's slow, insidious, and because of that, people think it's no biggie because it won't affect them in their lifetime and shit like that. Have you ever gotten sick from someone else’s cooking? Yes. My stomach is very, very sensitive to food it hasn't had before, especially if it's a complex recipe with lots of ingredients. What was the last kind of cheese you ate? American, on a turkey sandwich I made the other day. Have you ever abused any substance? Just Pepto Bismol. When I was in middle school, I was absolutely convinced every single day that I was going to throw up (no, I didn't actually feel sick every day; it was anxiety and just concocted in my head), so I would go to the bathroom at some point every day in school to take a pill. The habit only stopped when we ran out one day and Mom didn't get a new bottle immediately. I had to face the school day without it and, obviously, was just fine. What was the last fun thing you did? Caught up on some Tarantula Collective videos, probs. Have you ever dated someone who had a child from a previous relationship? No. Is there any drama currently going on with your family? Nah. What was the last fruit or vegetable you chopped/sliced up? An apple. When you take a nap, do you nap in bed or on the couch? In my bed. Have you ever been called a whore? No. Pretty far from one. What kind of phone do you have? It's a Tracfone. I'm ready to get a new, better one. Do you like hot chocolate? Love itttt. Do you know anyone with an STD? Yes. Are you afraid of deep water? Not as much as most people, it seems. Do you get dizzy easily? I naturally have alarmingly low blood pressure, only made worse by medication, so trust me, I sure as hell do. Have you ever been thrown up on? LKAJSDLKFJAKLWJEKLWJERLK NO Have you ever thrown up on someone? Maybe as a baby? How many times have you thrown up from being so drunk? Zero. Does the sound of fireworks scare you? No, not if I know it's coming. Otherwise I'll probably jump a bit, fearing it being a gunshot. What’s your favorite firework? I don't know how to identify fireworks, ha ha. But generally just the really big, colorful ones. Have you ever been beat up? No. Have you ever seen a jellyfish? Only in aquariums. Do you cry when you get angry? Yes. I cry to cope with a ton of emotions. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? Plan on it. What do you think people really think about you? That I'm an awkward, reclusive, leeching lowlife without goals I'll actually chase. God, that's painful to think about, what people see from the outside. What’s your favorite part about Thanksgiving? Nothing. I don't like Thanksgiving. I have to spend it every single year with horribly conservative, bigoted fucks. I hate Thanksgiving food, too. How many best friends do you have? One. What kind of car is your favorite? I don't know. Sleek, elegant ones. Do you prefer pens or pencils? Pencils. When did you go to sleep last night? Not 'til like... around 4 in the morning. Do you know anyone who’s had a stillbirth? I'm sure I do. I know MANY people who have had miscarriages. Are there any redheads in your family? I don't believe so, no. Which YouTuber do you feel like you relate to the most? Ummm maybe Morgan Adams, except I'm not funny lmao. What theme do you want for your wedding? Gothic. What theme would you choose for a baby’s nursery? Purely hypothetically, I'd probably choose pastel colors and baby animals for a daughter, and then little cute dinosaurs for a boy. Does your first crush know that he/she was your first crush? No. Do you know your first crush’s middle name? No. Who do you wish you could go on another date with? I'm happy only going on dates with my current boyfriend. Which family member did you get your height from? My mom. We're pretty much the same. Do you feel stupid regularly? ALWAYS. What style of wedding dress do you want? Most likely a ball gown one with a sweetheart top. Definitely subject to change, though; I honestly just love wedding dresses and would want to actually see how I look in varying styles, except mermaid. Mermaid gowns look AWFUL on 99% of people imo. Who was the last friend of yours to have a baby, and what’s the baby’s name? My high school band friend Marcus, his wife had their first baby just the other day. I'm blanking on her name right now. Who is the cutest baby you’ve seen on social media recently? Bindi Irwin's daughter Grace is like illegally cute. What is your opinion on Arby’s? I hate that shit. What is your favorite doughnut? Just an original glazed from Krispy Kreme fuckin does it for me man. But I just love donuts in general. Do you have a hot tub? If so, where is it located? We poor, hunny. What is your favorite party game? I don't really have one, given I don't exactly go to parties. Do you or your parents rake your yard? It doesn't need to be raked. My dad used to occasionally when my parents were still together. Have you won anything recently? No. How often do you make Excel tables? What for? Never. What was the last baby animal you saw in the wild? Umm I want to say I saw a young squirrel dash out of the road semi-recently? Do you like drag queens? If so, got any favourites? Drag queens are, well, fucking queens. I love them. Trixie Mattel is high on the list. How about drag kings? You know... somehow it never struck me that this term existed???? I'm dumb. But anyway, I think it's still awesome. I don't know any (I think?) though. Would it bother you, if your partner had cut contact with their parents? If he had good reason to, it wouldn't bother me. His father is no longer living, but I could not even imagine him cutting contact with his mother since he helps the woman so much and cares a shitload for her. As someone who relates to what I know of her and what she's gone through, I'd definitely be concerned if he cut ties with her. It'd almost feel like an insult to me, too, if that makes sense? Like I'd be scared I was next. Have you ever wondered whether you were adopted? As a kid, yes. I sometimes thought my mom didn't love me as much as my sisters, so I had an episode where I wondered. Have you ever grown a berry bush? No.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''heathens'' by twenty one pilots

0 notes