LISTEN Y'ALL I really haven’t been happy with my weight and my image these past couple months but today I woke up and realized that when I was smaller I was basically malnourished and that all this meat is o-fuckin-k bc I’m happy and if I’m on the heavier side it’s because I’m in a better state of mind than I was last year. Love yourself. Forgive yourself. Let yourself grow (mind and body wise).
sterek, soulmate au where their face is tattooed on each other ✨💕💘💖🌸😫👌 lmfao
the morning of Derek’s eighteenth birthday, he couldn’t say that he wasn’t
disappointed to wake up without his soulmate tattoo. But it just meant that his
soulmate wasn’t eighteen yet. And after everything with Kate, romance was the
last thing on his mind. Years later, at twenty-two, all the supernatural
problems of Beacon Hills kept Derek busy; thoughts of his soulmate fleeting and
brief. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to meet them, but he knew better than to fixate on it.
morning, Derek wakes up and walks into his bathroom; rubbing the sleep from his
eyes, he reaches for his toothbrush, stopping short as his eyes land on his arm
through the reflection in the mirror. Looking down at his right bicep, Derek’s
jaw drops. Messy, windswept hair. Warm, kind eyes. A mischievous grin. An
upturned nose. Moles.
Derek hesitantly runs his thumb
along the lines of the tattoo, his touch gentle, as if rubbing it too hard
would make it disappear.
A knock on the door causes Derek
to jump; walking in a daze across the loft, he opens the door, the face that
greets him matching the one on his arm.
Stiles lets out a shaky laugh,
the noise muffled by the sound of his frantic heartbeat that echoes in Derek’s
“Stiles.” Derek says, unable to
keep the awe out of his voice.
give me a pairing + an AU setting + I’ll write a three-sentence fic
Request:“Can you do a Mitch imagine we’re he goes to kill these bad guys in a house and when he’s about to leave he hears a muffled scream and he goes to look and he sees a girl tied to a chair and she’s like bruised and bleeding so he goes and helps her and takes her home with him and she doesn’t talk at first because she’s scared but reassures her that it’s okay. Can you make it fluffy please and thank you.”
Warnings: mentions of killing, swearing, and fluff
Word count: 3,521 words
A/N: This was my very first request and I really enjoyed writing this a lot! I don’t need to tell you guys already, you know @susybird is the best with proofreading and helped me with the ending bc I’ve been writing this since 9 am and it’s currently 10:41 pm and I had no motivation whatsoever so a big huge thank you and hug to her. Also, @wittystiles for motivating me and helping me out with this! I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you guys think :)
“Okay remember. The mission is to just get in, find the enemy, and get out. No messing around either.” Hurley announces to the group but his eyes were focused on me when he said all of that. Yeah like I’m the one that messes shit up. I guess you could say I have a reputation for not following orders, but one thing is for sure; I get shit done at the end of the day.
“Alright we’re looking for a man name Nizar Muhibb Hadad. Last seen going into this house carrying a duffel bag that is filled with all sorts of illegal drugs.” Stan points to a picture of an old, small house. The windows were shattered and the roof falling apart. Hadad was a short stubby man but also known as one of the most dangerous and powerful drug dealers out there. He’d been in a drug ring for about 4 years. We’d been tracking him down ever since but we were never fast enough to catch him in time. Until today.
You never liked arguments. For one, you were not the type to bite back at people. No, you’re too scared to do that. So you would stay quiet and let the other person lash out what they are feeling until they calm down. Or worse, they get angrier at you.
The latter was what
happened between you and Jay.
You lay in bed, back
flat against the mattress and eyes staring at the ceiling. You’d long forgotten
when you put your earphones in, but the row earlier with Jay—which involved him
the only one speaking for most parts—lingered in your mind like it’s happening
right before your eyes at the moment.
“If you don’t like it, just tell me. How else
will I know?” Jay told you on your way home, as calm as he could, but you could
hear the irritation in his tone.
The thing about Jay is
he never yelled at you. Maybe when you’re not in the same room and he would
call you, but not when the two of you are fighting. Shouting didn’t really
solve anything. And you didn’t do well when people raised their voice at you.
It only made you fall quieter; more resolved to swim in your own space.
I would like to simply apologize for the delayed update. I usually update at least once a week, but my child started school, and I home school her! So I am the teacher lol. I also have a two year old so my days have been extremely busy and I’ve had no time to write. When I do have time, I often draw blanks. I finally was able to sit down and brain storm with a friend, and finally came up with the next chapter. So here it is! Prepare yourself for the plot twist ahead!
A special thanks to @bluuesparrow for helping me overcome a bit of writer’s block and always being there to throw ideas at! As always, Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima, I’m simply barrow characters. p>
For the second morning in a row, Gajeel was stirred from his slumber by the text messaging alert on his phone. At the tone, his eyes shot open. The sun was creeping it’s way across the room, and a tiny, beautiful, blue haired woman in his arms began to stir, and the scarred black cat at the foot of the bed stretched and yowled. The day had begun before he was ready.
Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he blinked away the sleep still present in his eye. He read the notification: “Gajeel, come to my office immediately. -Makarov”
He stared at the screen for a moment, rereading the message to be sure he conveyed it correctly. The Old Man knew they were leaving for Europe today, he was surprised that Makarov would bother him. It must have been important, maybe the police had caught the bastard.
A quiet moan left Levy’s small mouth as she nuzzled close to his warm chest, and warm honey eyes peeked up at him while the rest of her face was hidden by the blanket she cocooned herself in. She let out a raspy “morning” that was muffled by the blankets, and it made him chuckle.
“Mornin’ Short stuff.”
He let his hand snake around her form under the cover and find the dip in her side, holding it and rubbing circles gently with his thumb. She practically purred under his touch, leaning closer to him for more.
“I got a text from the Boss man, I need to get down there right away.” He grumbled, not anxious to leave the bed he shared with her for the first time. If there was one thing he could never get tired of, it was waking up seeing her. Although she was a blanket hog, tossed a lot in her sleep, and occasionally kicked him, she was adorable while she did it. Despite her early morning charm, a sense of concern washed over him when he realized that he needed to leave and she needed to pack.
“Are you going to be okay here by yourself with Erza and Jellal keeping watch, or do you want to come with me?” he questioned as worry washed over his face, metal stud eyebrows furrowing.
Levy avoided eye contact but nodded, still hiding under the covers.
“I think I’ll invite them in for coffee and cookies.” Gajeel gave her a reassuring smile, knowing that Titania would want to run across the street for cake he sent her a quick text before crawling out of bed and heading to his own room to start the day.
After taking a quick shower and dressing in his motorcycle gear, he came back to find Levy had let Jellal and Erza in, and Erza had indeed run to the bakery and was politely eating cake. Jellal sat next to her sipping coffee and Levy tried to hide a blushing smile behind her coffee cup, as if they had been speaking of something in secret before Gajeel walked into the room. He would normally inquire about her suspicious behavior, but he didn’t have the time today. Instead he gave her a quick kiss goodbye, and nodded to the power couple before he took his leave.
Erza finished chewing the bite of cake in her mouth and commented after Gajeel pulled the door shut behind him.
“It’s interesting…” She said as she cut off another bite from her slice, “Gajeel has never expressed interest in relationships before. And yet it seems that you two have slid into a form of comfort that takes most couples months to achieve.” She lifted the fork to her mouth and consumed her cake, and Levy blushed deeper behind her coffee cup.
He had hoped that racing across town on his bike might burn off some of the anxiety he felt. His mind raced faster than his bike could go, in and out of thoughts and moments that had occurred since he had met Levy as he swerved in between cars in traffic. He mindlessly drove through lanes, his concentration stuck on the thought of Levy, his chest tightening at the thought of someone wanting to hurt her.
Since he had joined Makarov’s family, referring to themselves as the Fairy Tail Guild, he had numbed himself from emotions. He had spent a long time letting his anger boil over while he worked for Jose, letting his victims feel the pain and frustration he felt after losing his father, suffering abuse in the foster system, the neglect of not having someone love him as a child should feel loved, and losing himself to drugs. The longer time went on and his resistance to the drugs built, the more violent he became. By the time Makarov had found him, he had sent dozens of men to the hospital with his brutal beatings. When he began his process to get clean, he focused his efforts on numbing those emotions, rather than dealing with them. It had been so long since he had let himself experience emotions, and he had never properly learned how to process them to begin with. And now he felt as though he was experiencing the 27 years worth of emotions that he had swept under the rug come at him all at once.
The small rundown warehouse was in front of him before he could register that he was even out of the traffic. To his surprise, he found Makarov waiting out front for him. As Gajeel approached his boss, the small elderly man turned on his heel and quickly moved into his office without saying a word. Gajeel found himself quite worried as the man who had always been direct and honest with him was delaying any information he had to relay to Gajeel. On Makarov’s desk sat the metal cup Mirajane kept behind the bar for Gajeel, and a full bottle of scotch.
Makarov slid into the large chair behind his desk, pouring a large glass of scotch for himself and filling Gajeel’s cup. Gajeel knew that if the old man had pulled out a bottle of scotch, it couldn’t be anything good. It was worse that it wasn’t even 9 o’clock in the morning, and he was pouring a glass full.
“‘Fuck’ is right, my boy.” Makarov sighed after taking a large gulp of the alcohol, as he topped off his drink.
Gajeel looked down into his cup and took a small drink before inquiring, “Is this about the incident with Levy’s stalker last night?”
The look on Makarov’s face seemed to darken the whole room, and fear grew quickly in the pit of Gajeel’s stomach as he feared the worst.
“No, son. I’m afraid we have much bigger problems on our plate now, as well.” Makarov opened the large drawer in his desk with a key that he kept in his pocket at all times. He pulled out a file, setting it on the desk and opening it with a weary look as he handed the contents to Gajeel.
“It seems that our friend Jose Porla made ties with the right people before he landed himself in prison. He was able to bribe a judge into dropping the charges held against him, and he was released on bail. There has been whispers in the alleys that he is after our heads, Gajeel.”
The alcohol in his cup rippled as Gajeel’s hand shook with fear. As if there wasn’t enough on his plate already, chasing the shadows for a stalker who wanted to hurt the person he treasured most and leaving for a year long trip, now he had a bloodthirsty gang leader with a vendetta against him on his ass.
“Knowing Jose, however, he is too stingy to pay to send mercenaries overseas after you. This year long trip might buy us some time. He could cool off, or land himself in prison again by the time you return to the States. Until that time, Erza, Mira, and Laxus will act as my own personal bodyguards.” Makarov poured himself another drink as he waited for Gajeel to absorb the information he was given.
Opening the file on the desk between them, Makarov pulled pictures of three men Gajeel recognized to be Jose’s right hand heathens. Sol, a short, green haired man with a tiny mustache and a monocle, who he knew to be a real priss with a fake French accent. Totomaru, a punk ass kid with his hair dyed slit down the middle, platnium blonde on one side and jet black on the other and a large black strip tattooed across his face. He was known for setting the homes of Jose’s enemies on fire. And Aria. A man larger than even Gajeel, who kept his eyes covered with a blindfold until he engaged in battle, saying that world’s ugliness depressed him so much it hurt to look at.
These members were the most loyal to Jose, doing more of his dirty work than even Gajeel did. He knew them to be quite ruthless. Knowing that unlike him, they were not motivated by drugs to do a job. They were motivated only by their own intent to kill, maim, mutilate, and wreak havoc. You’d be an idiot or insane not to fear them.
Lastly was a photo of a woman he did not recognize. She had straight black hair and milky white skin. Her face was hard and serious as she looked at the camera in what seemed to be a cropped group photo.
“These faces should be familiar to you, they are the faces that you should be on the lookout for during your travels,” Makarov stated as he laced his fingers through one another and left them on the desk.
“Who is the woman? I don’t know her face.” Gajeel responded as he pulled her photo out from the pile and handed it to Makarov.
He sighed deeply before he began to explain, “This woman is the reason for our issue. Ultear Milkovich. She is the lawyer that was able to convince- with a large sum of money, the judge Crawford Seam to drop the charges held against Jose and release him from prison.”
Gajeel’s brow furrowed with worry. “Is she the type that would come after me personally?”
His stomach churned in anticipation, not knowing whether this woman was a direct threat to his and Levy’s well being or not.
“To be honest, Gajeel, I don’t know enough about this woman to tell you. My best advice would be for you to be on high alert at all times until this issue is resolved.” The exhaustion in Makarov’s voice was evident. The bags under his eyes were heavy, and Gajeel could tell that he was tired. Not just without sleep, without rest. Makarov had spent his years taking care of the family he made his own. He had spent almost 50 years as a police officer, and even in retirement he still was chasing bad guys, and had them chasing him.
“He’s not going to stop Makarov…. The only way this will end is with a dead body.” Gajeel foretold, he knew what the outcome of the situation would be in the end. He knew Jose well enough to know what was to come.
“I’m aware of that, my child.”
The entire ride home, Gajeel’s anxiety rose higher and higher the closer he got. By the time his hand reached for the doorknob, he was shaking. How was he going to handle this situation? A million possibilities ran through his head. How was he supposed to keep her safe when the amount of variables to the situation was uncountable. Twisting the knob and entering the penthouse, his eyes immediately landed on a smiling Levy, book and cup of tea in hand. His heart calmed, the beat steading within his chest. His stomach settled after doing nothing but twist into knots all day. His hands stopped shaking, replaced by the urge to hold her.
His lips curled gently upwards as he quietly walked through the room to meet her, aware of the sleeping redhead on the couch. He leaned over the couch and met Levy’s awaiting lips with a quick, but gentle kiss.
“Did ya finish packing?” He whispered as he lingered close to her face. He could smell the peppermint tea on her breath as she smiled and nodded.
“All ready for take off, captain.” Gajeel snorted at her little joke, and retreated from their close proximity to speak with Jellal, who was seated at the table near by reading the newspaper and munching on cookies.
Gajeel slapped a hand down on the man’s shoulder and gruffly murmured “Take your wife home, Fernandez.”
Jellal nodded acknowledgingly, and packed the remaining cake with him to lure Erza from her sleep.
The remainder of Gajeel’s packing consisted of shoving all his clothes and toothbrush into a duffle bag, since Juvia had taken the liberty to do his organizing and packing for him. It didn’t take him long to shower, dress, and pack. Before he knew it, he was attempting, and failing, to get Lily in a carrier. The loud howling coming from the black cat and the long string of swear words led Levy to make her way into Gajeel’s room where she found him trying to shove the cat into the door of the crate and that cat’s legs holding onto the edges and a panicked look of his face.
“Damn cat, just get in the cage!” Gajeel said through gritted teeth as Lily continued to fight against him with the strength of a panther.
Covering her mouth to hide her giggles, she retreated from the room. She returned with a slice of kiwi, and took Lily into her lap calmly and let him eat the kiwi from her palm. Levy giggled as he pressed his head against her hand to request she rub his ears the way he liked so much. Within minutes, Lily had fallen asleep under Levy’s ear scratching and she was able to gently set him inside of the crate.
“Fuckin’ traitor, he is.” Gajeel sneered at the cat, Lily yowling back at him.
Levy couldn’t help but giggle at the two boys she had come to love so much in a short amount of time. They had become her family, a thing she hadn’t had since she was a child. Whenever she was near Gajeel, she felt warm and safe. She knew that he would protect her, care for her, and love her. Lily was no different- she knew she held a special spot in Lily’s heart by the way he had immediately taken to her, and seemed to enjoy taunting Gajeel with his affection for her. In that small moment, she knew that whatever life was to throw their way, she would be with them until the end of her days.
The time they spent at the airport was surprisingly minimal. Levy owning a private jet meant not having to wait for their flight time. Levy had some of her trusted crew members pick up their motorcycles, instruments, and the rest of their baggage ahead of time, so it was a simple matter of walking through security and getting to the terminal.
However, what should have been a simple walk through an airport set Gajeel on edge, knowing that Midnight or Jose could have been on his tail, had eyes watching him, or worse. He stood tall and stiff, staying as close to Levy as he could without giving away their relationship was anything but body guard and client. His eyes searched faces in the crowd as he sought out familiarities, but found none. He breathed a sigh of relief as they entered the private jet, whose pilot and crew were approved by Makarov as personal friends.
Gajeel followed Levy into the main cabin where they would spend their flight. There was a love seat couch with a table in front that had a bottle of champagne and glasses set out. There was a sizable television directly in front of the couch, and near the windows there were single bucket seats facing one another with a small table in between. Near the rear of the plane there was bed with curtains for privacy, and the attendant directed them towards the kitchen and restroom towards the front.
The young man serving as flight attendant, named Hibiki, took Lily’s crate and strapped it into a secure spot for pet carriers before he took the liberty of serving small the champagne. Levy sat on the couch with her legs crossed, leaning back on one arm as she sipped at the bubble drink.
“Little early for drinkin’, isn’t it, Shorty?” Gajeel teased as he took the seat next to her.
Levy finished the gulp in her mouth and responded with a hiss between her teeth, “The alcohol helps settle my nerves a bit before take off,” she explained to him as she poured another glass.
Gajeel threw his glass back in one quick swoop, finishing the drink. He didn’t have the best experiences on planes. He stared into the empty glass in his hands as he leaned on his knees, his thoughts beginning to stray back to the issue at hand. He had news to break to Levy, information she needed in order to keep herself safe. His thoughts were interrupted when Hibiki returned to announce the arrival of the pilot and Levy stood to greet them.
“Miss Levy and guest, I would like to introduce you to your pilot for today’s flight; the master of the plane ‘Christina,’ Captain Ichiya Kotobuki!” Hibiki took a bow as he backed out of the way, making way for a short, red haired man in a white captain’s suit enter the plane. The atmosphere of the plane immediately was overtaken by a strong essence Gajeel could only assume was an overdose of cologne the man had sprayed on himself.
“It seems, that destiny has brought us back together… Miss… Levy,” The man who was shorter than even Levy grabbed her hand and spun her around.
“Oi! What do you think you’re doin’?!” Gajeel gaped as he witnessed the strange man grab hold of his woman.
Levy faked the best smile should could though she looked like she might vomit when the intense amount of cologne hit her nostrils.
“Hello…. Ichiya….” She choked out while trying to hold her breath.
Ichiya’s attention was suddenly taken away from Levy when he noticed another scent in the room.
“Sniff sniff…. who is this…. iron beast?” Ichiya crooned when his eyes met Gajeel’s, who jumped back in response as his face dropped in fear.
“This is my boy-boyfriend,” Levy stuttered, realizing that was the first time she had introduced Gajeel as such. “He is attending my tour with me as my bodyguard as well.”
Ichiya gave a sharp nod, “Alas… another one off the market,” Gajeel honestly couldn’t tell if he was speaking about Levy or himself. “But, no matter. No one could ever come between me and my one true redheaded love….This young brute will take good care of Miss Levy, I can tell from his parfume.”
Gajeel’s face turned four shades of red and he eyed Levy in utter confusion and whispered “What the fuck?” to which she only stifled a small laugh, and Ichiya retreated to the captain’s quarters with Hibiki following.
Levy settled onto the couch and buckled herself in as the engine of the jet started. She went about her way casually, kicking her feet up onto the table and grabbing a book to read, as if she had done this a million times before. Gajeel, however, struggled with the strange buckle for a moment, and sat up straight and stiffy, with his hands on his legs as he awaited the plane to begin moving down the runway and take off.
The plane creeped forward before accelerating as fast as Gajeel frequently went on his bike, and lurched as it lifted itself off the ground. He gripped the arm of the couch with one hand, steadying himself as he breathed in sharply repeatedly. The contents of his stomach turned, and he deeply regretted drinking the alcohol. His head began to swirl around him as he struggled to focus on the settings around him, and the involuntary urge to vomit crept up in his throat, making his cheeks puff out in response.
“Gajeel? Are you okay?” A small voice tinkered in his ear and brought his focus back to her for but a moment. He mustered up the effort to answer, only muttering out a series of gurgles and “motion sickness,” to which Levy responded with “Motion sickness? But you drive a motorcycle!”
Normally he would retort back at her, but his stomach threatened to heave if he so much as moved his tongue. A voice came on over the intercom that he slightly recognized, speaking words he thought he knew before fading again into spiraling despair within his own body. He felt a shift in the weight on the seat next to him, and the weight holding his body to the seat lifted. He was suddenly being tipped sideways, oh god are we crashing on this fucking death trap? when suddenly his face hit a smooth and warm cushion. It was unlike any pillow he had ever known, it must have been made from the finest silk in all the worlds. His dizziness eased slightly as he felt fingers rub his earlobe, and he could swear he could hear his mother’s voice singing, before he drifted off into a painless sleep.
Levy giggled to herself as she realized that she had rocked both cat and his owner to sleep in the same way, by rubbing their ears.
His consciousness continued to fade in and out for what seemed like days. Occasionally he was alert enough to hear muffled words exchanged, “Thank you for the food, Hibiki,” “Gajeel, I have to pee,” “Lily is awake, better let him roam around the plane,” “Jeez, who knew the big tough body guard’s weakness would be planes!” Eventually, after a long rest, he felt the energy to mutter a few important words to Levy before he drifted back to sleep.
“Shorty… if I get off of this god forsaken metal death trap alive, there’s something important I need to speak with ya about…”
Her giggle was like fairy bells in his ears and she whispered “okay,” before all the strength left his body and he fell into blackness.
The fire has burned low. Only
embers remain, the ghost of warmth. The room is dark, full of shadow, and she
lies on her side, back to the door. Defenseless. Such an easy thing to kneel
upon the bed, press a blade to the soft flesh of her neck. “My Warden,” he
says, “If I were any other, I could have killed you.” Her eyes open instantly,
and she smiles into the pillow. She rolls over onto her back, looking up at
him. She wraps her fingers around the metal.
“You won’t be killing much with
such a dull blade,” she says. She shifts, pushes herself up. One hand pressed
into the mattress, the other reaching for his face. Her hands trace the edges
of the tattoo upon his face. She tucks hair behind pointed tips, follows the
shell of his ear. She lands upon his cheek once again, and she smiles as he
closes his eyes, leans into her touch. The dagger is cast aside as he leans
forward, presses his forehead against hers.
“You should have it sharpened
before we march to Denerim,” she says and he chuckles under his breath as his
“I have plenty other sharp
things, fear not,” Zevran tells her. “I will keep you well protected.” She
wraps her arms around his neck, pulls him back into the bed with her. They lie
on their sides, facing each other, wrapped as closely as possible. Legs entwine
with legs, his hand drifts from shoulder to hip, keeping a tight hold on her.
“I knew you would come tonight,”
“Waiting for me, were you?”
“Yes,” she answers.
“I am going to kiss you now, mi
amore,” he says, not waiting for her permission, and he swiftly follows through
on his promise. A hand cradling the back of her neck, shifting to stretch
himself on top of her. His hand slips from knee to thigh as he settles himself
between her legs. He braces himself on the bed with an arm, careful to keep
most of his weight from her. Her hand threads through his hair, keeps him
close. Her mouth opens to his, and his tongue is wet and warm in her mouth. His
hand is still drifting upon her thigh, pushing up the loose nightgown she
They take their time with it, a
slow thing full of gentle touches and soft whispers. He stays close to her, her
breath hot upon his ear. He treasures each low moan, small gasp. Her hands fist
in his shirt, flatten against his back, struggle to find a position that suits.
They flutter and shift, moving down his spine, bracing against his thigh, back
to wrap themselves around his neck. “My Warden, my lovely Warden,” he murmurs,
bares teeth against her neck, kisses the mark he has left.
“Please,” she groans, “don’t
“I am here,” he assures her,
finding her lips with his once again.
There is no time for such things
the next night. The next night they stand before a burning city, a horde of
darkspawn, an archdemon that screams to the stars. His hand reaches for hers,
holding tight. He raises her knuckles to his lips. “I am here,” he tells her. “I
Neil watched as Andrew’s head tipped back, lips parting to allow a thin trail of smoke to dribble out. He gave it a few moments before he blew it away with a sharp puff.
“Can you do the thing where you blow it out of your mouth and breathe it back in through your nose?” Neil asked him.
Andrew looked at the cigarette curiously before taking another drag and trying as Neil suggested. His face scrunched up when the hot smoke burned his nostrils. He rubbed at them and scowled, while Neil watched and chuckled.
They were sitting on the roof of Nicky and Erik’s apartment complex in Berlin, invited there for the wedding which would be taking place in just a handful of days. Aaron, whom Nicky had chosen for best man, and the groom in question, were out with Erik’s mother flower shopping, while Erik was at work. Neil and Andrew had, mostly politely, declined the offer to tag along.
It was strange being back in Berlin, it having been so many years since he and his mother had stopped there in their globe trotting escape. It was familiar, and at the same time unsettlingly alien.
“Who do you think’s gonna cry when Nicky walks down the aisle?” Neil asked, after a time.
Nicky, a stickler for tradition despite his non-traditional leanings, had insisted that someone was going to walk down the aisle to the wedding music. Ms Klose had offered to stand in in place of his absent mother, and Nicky had been close to tears at the mere thought of such a gesture.
“Erik first, probably. He’s gonna take one look at him and start crying, which will set Nicky off. They’ll exchange their vows with snot running down their faces,” Andrew replied.
Neil chortled at the imagery. “You’re probably right, actually.”
There was another drawn out silence. Andrew occupied it with finishing his cigarette and lighting another, while Neil watched on. He stared with open fascination at the tattoos on Andrew’s hands, the only part of his finished sleeve visible around the arm bands and leather jacket, worn to ward of the cold autumn night. He found himself smiling as he read the words on Andrew’s knuckles. чёрт. So fitting.
“What are you wearing to the wedding?” Neil asked after a time.
“Not a fucking suit, that’s for sure.”
Neil snorted. “What, does it kill your vibe? Not punk enough for you?”
“Shut your whore mouth Josten or you can examine my knuckles more closely.”
Neil smirked, unoffended by the veiled accusation that he had again been staring. He’d come to realise it didn’t bother Andrew nearly so much as he implied. “So what, leather jacket?”
Andrew turned to level a look at him, cigarette dangling from his lips. “Works well enough for most occasions.”
“But it’s a wedding.”
Neil shook his head, smiling, exasperated.
“The fuck’s your problem, Abram?”
Neil’s smile turned into a chuckle, which grew steadily into a laugh the more Andrew glared at him.
Eventually the nonsensical giggling grew annoying enough that Andrew threw away his half finished cigarette and moved abruptly closer, reaching out to crook a finger under Neil’s chin. Neil smelt tobacco on the breath that ghosted across his cheeks, glimpsed a hint of warmth in the dark hazel eyes that stared unflinchingly at him. His giggling stopped but the smile remained firmly on his face, impossible to remove with Andrew like this.
“Something funny?” Andrew asked, his voice pitched low and quiet, almost a whisper. It was startlingly intimate; given they were alone.
“You’re a fashion snob. It’s hilarious.”
Andrew’s fingers gripped his chin, pulling him closer. “Says the man who wore the same three shirts for five years.”
Neil’s grin softened. “I guess we balance each other out, then.”
Andrew frowned at the cheesiness of the line, or maybe the sincerity of it, but didn’t pull away.
His other hand moved to Neil’s crooked thigh, resting there lightly until Neil inched closer, demanding more. They were nearly nose to nose now, the air between them charged with something indescribable. Maybe want, maybe need. Neil ached to close the distance.
Andrew’s gaze dropped from his eyes, staring at his lips instead. Neil licked them, almost subconsciously. Andrew’s grip tightened.
“How about I convince Nicky to let you wear the jacket, if you wear the queer pin.”
Andrew rolled his eyes, and the heady tension diffused. “You’re a fucking idiot, Abram.”
“I think it’s fair! You get to be supportive and punk, best of both worlds.”
Andrew silenced him with his lips, closing the hairsbreadth distance. Neil’s complaints turned to enthusiastic compliance, and he opened his mouth under Andrew’s touch, welcoming the other inside. Andrew cradled his face, the grip tight, a tattooed hand holding him steady as his lips seared and claimed and drove Neil insane. Neil’s own hands didn’t know where to go, so he settled for the lapels of Andrew’s leather jacket, and used them to pull him closer.
No matter how many times they did this, no matter how many years had passed, Neil was always shocked by the intensity that Andrew kissed him with, the unconcealed passion and need that manifested in those lips against his; biting, sucking, licking, skilfully taking Neil apart till he could do nothing but clutch him tighter, kiss him harder.
This was the world, and the world was this.
(Later, when Andrew showed up to the wedding- a small gathering in a beautiful garden- wearing his nicest leather jacket, Nicky was too busy sobbing into his now-husbands’ shoulder to notice. Though if he had seen the small rainbow with the words ‘Here and QUEER’ underneath pinned to his shoulder, maybe he wouldn’t have minded.)
in your [amazing] Kayleigh Day lives au - do the boys still have the face tattoos? like maybe they were drunk once and got them done? or maybe they're not on the face but another part of the body? or maybe they're not numbers but something else? idk just wondering
Since Crane's able to copy face markings, if they had any sort face/head accessories would he copy that too? :0
Yes, Crane can copy face markings and tattoo from other sans that he copy. He can’t however reproduce accessories from other Sanses since they aren’t part of him. He conserve his identity, only the color and the ‘texture’ change.
By example, the fur over his collar can change shape and density to imitate other sanses like Lavender who is made of flowers. But he can’t reproduce stuff like scars, hat, button, chains, etc. His ‘copycat’ power is really limited.
Summary: Arriving at Kattegat to join the Heathen Army Harald notice his princess to hunt down. That while one of Björn his man is hunting you down. And that just not suits for Halfdan who is way to possesive over you. Warning: Blood, violence Words: 4877 Specially written for:@itharley and @kissmyneckbad
After days, weeks finally the figures of a dooming Kattegat rose up out of the fog. You looked over your shoulder to the ten ships sailing behind, ready to join King Harald into battle. You didn’t left with the brothers, you stayed behind a little longer until all the weapons and boats were ready. You waited for the last of his allies while he and his brother already sailed with the largest part of the army towards Kattegat. In this way you backed up King Harald with ten more boats and a lot more fighting spirit on board. You grabbed a rope and pulled yourself on the edge of the boat, gazing to Kattegat. Your cloak slowly stroke on the soft wind, the silence embracing all boats while you sailed that last part into Kattegat. You noticed King Harald standing there, fierce, proud for seeing the amount of extra men you brought. He had his brother by his side and another tall man, from which you thought it was Björn Ironside. It was the first time you came to Kattegat, the first time you would meet those famous Ragnarssons. As soon as the boat hit the docks you jumped out, pulling the cloak from you head, pulling the corner of your mouth up while you spread your arms. ‘Your men.’ You bowed for King Harald. He smiled, both his fingers rested on his belt while he looked to the boats your brought. ‘Y/n,’ he began, looking over your body, swallowing the words he was planning on saying before he turned to the man aside him. ‘Björn Ironside.’ He introduced you. You looked from Harald to Björn and nodded with a short smile. ‘Heard a lot from you.’ ‘And who may you be?’ He replied the question right back, eyes scouting your body for an answer and more. You felt an arm from behind you crossing over your chest. ‘Mine.’ Halfdan answered, placing his nose underneath your ear, taking in your smell. ‘Y/n, she is one of our best fighters.’ King Harald introduced you. Björn looked at you, a glare that challenged you before he shifted his eyes back to Harald. ‘I can imagine.’ He said on a lower voice before he pointed towards the village. ‘Welcome in Kattegat.‘ Björn invited you into this place. You nodded, looking how he walked away before you settled your eyes back on King Harald. ‘You ready to fight in the great Heathen army?’ He asked you. ‘Offcourse she is ready.’ Halfdan answered in your place. You turned around to him, he grabbed you at your throat, a thumb trailing you cheekbone before that little stupid grin came on his face and he kissed you. His hand stroke from your throat to the back, fingers grabbing into your hair while his kiss grew more hungry. ‘By the gods, did I miss you.’ He whispered against your lips. It was a while, you felt the same. You pulled back and looked up to him with a smile while he gazed into your eyes. ‘What did you do back home?’ He asked, looking how his finger trailed the tattoo on your face. ‘Nothing other than what King Harald asked from me.’ You reassured him. The men back home knew you were Halfdan his property, they wouldn’t undermine him. Here, only the way Björn looked at you was already enough for Halfdan to keep you close. ‘Look.’ Harald all of the sudden said. You and Halfdan turned around and looked at the obsession Harald showed in his eyes. ‘What?’ ‘There she is.’ He pointed out, looking aside to Halfdan. ‘You don’t recognize her?’ He asked. You followed both their eyes to a woman with blond braided hair, fragile in her steps, posture of a princess. It hit you right in the moment. ‘Is that your princess you were looking for?’ You asked, looking aside to King Harald. Not that you really didn’t need an answer, his expressions said enough. ‘She was the one that told me to become king of all Norway, she is the one I’m thinking about every day.’ ‘I hope you never imagined me to be her.’ You pointed out, giving him a short look. Not that she wasn’t stunning, but you would never be princess material, you always wanted to stand in the heat of battle, not sitting on a throne ruling lands. ‘I’m already imagining you with a dress.’ Halfdan whispered in your ear. You pulled a half smile on your lips, feeling how his fingertips eagerly scouted the small of your back. ‘She is finally here.’ Harald praised, still looking at his princess. ‘Well, go talk with her then.’ Halfdan grinned, giving him a little push before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pressing you against his side. ‘I need you.’ ‘You need me to do what?’ You asked him politely, wrapping your fingers around the clothes at his chest. ‘In a dress?’ He suggested. ‘The only time you will see me in a dress is when I marry.’ You answered that right back, and you weren’t really eager to marry either. ‘Only to tear it from your body it is worth the wait.’ He muttered while leaning in on you. You started laughing, embracing his head with one hand while he kissed you again. King Harald was looking to the both of you so you pulled back, frowning your eyebrow. ‘Thinking your princess will never do this in public?’ You teased him. He locked his fingers after his belt again, judging you with his eyes. ‘Or regretting letting me go?’ You followed. Harald opened his mouth, eyes slowly getting down over your body. You felt Halfdan his grip tighten, knowing he wasn’t planning on sharing you again any time soon. ‘Careful what you tell her brother.’ Halfdan said. It wasn’t a warning, it was brother agaist brother. ‘Fools.’ You reacted to the glares they both threw to each other before walking away.
Title:The Naked Guy Ship:Narry (Niall Horan x Harry Styles) Genre:non-famous AU, fluff, kinda absurd Rating:T (there’s some swearing I guess) Word count: ~1k Summary: After moving into a new flat, Niall soon discovers that the neighbor opposite doesn’t close their curtains very often. A/N: Shoutout to @aceniall for sending this great prompt! <3 Hope you’ll like it, bub <3