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justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 5 months ago

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I always manage to miss your match ups so I'm here (and queer-) to request 😭😭😭

Not even going on anon bc I wanna know when you post.

I dunno if there's a fandom limit so I'll * the ones I want the most.

Fandom: Attack on Titan, ATLA/LOK, Blue Exorcist*, Hazbin Hotel*/Helluva Boss*, Mystic Messenger, Spy x Family*

Name: Kiana (Kiki for short)

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Demisexual & Demiromantic

Zodiac/MBTI/Ennaegram: Sagittarius, ISFJ, 2w3

Appearance: Pale as all hells, currently pink and purple dyed hair, natural blonde so a lot of my body hair is hard to see haha, chubby but makes a good pillow, overheats easily but makes for a good snuggle buddy in winter, 5'8", looks a lot younger than I am lol, have tattoos along the inner side of my arm (related to my kitties) and some paw prints on my shoulder

Personality: Overall sweet, caring, I try to help people when I can, I'm usually someone can talk to when they're having issues, I will fight people who hurt those I care about, huge love and cuddle bug, struggles with self worth, I can be a bit snarky at times, enjoys dark humor, surprises everyone with how unhinged I can be at times LOL

Likes: Animals, my cats (I have six of them-), writing, reading, watching tv/movies, video games, spending time with people I care about, snuggles, sleeping LOL, cold

Dislikes: summer, heat, people who hate on things for no reason, people who are rude to others for no reason, being told how to live my life >:(

Hobbies: reading, writing, video games, taking pictures, painting, drawing, playing with my kitties >:), cooking

Hi Kiki! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took a while. As a thank you for your patience, I decided to give you a matchup for all of the fandoms you requested. I hope you like your matchups!

In Attack on Titan, I match you with...

This was a close call between Armin and Jean but I think you and Armin would get along a bit better.

Personality wise, you’re very similar. You both like helping people but you also have low self worth. Because of this, you can be each others supporters, helping the other out when things are getting to be a bit too much.

It’s no secret that Armin has a soft spot for animals. In a modern au, he would love cat cafes and going on walks around town to stop and say hello to every animal the two of you come across.

Disliking people telling you how to live your life is something Armin can definitely relate to. Since his dream is seeing the world beyond the walls, he really hopes you can each support the dreams of the other.

Armin loves reading and he’s so glad you share that interest. He would love reading to you from his favourite books and if you are willing to do the same, he will listen attentively to your every word.

In Avatar: The Last Airbender, I match you with...

You and Aang are both good listeners and this is probably one of the things you bonded over at first. You’re both so used to people talking to you that it’s a nice change having someone willing to listen.

Definitely one of the biggest cuddle bugs in the entirety of the Avatar universe. He just likes expressing his affection that was and he’s super grateful you like that and are the same. No one’s going to be able to pry you two apart.

No need to worry about the heat when you’re around Aang. He can either freeze some water into ice for you or create a nice cool breeze. Just say the word. He’s more than happy to help.

Much like Korra, Aang is delighted that you like animals, especially since he has such a close relationship with Appa and Momo. A lot of your dates will have those two tagging along as third wheels.

In a modern au, Aang definitely plays video games. I see him as someone who would like Animal Crossing and Stardew Valley but I can also see him playing things like Undertale that have moral or ethical considerations built into them.

In Legend of Korra, I match you with...

Asami is also a very protective person when it comes to those she cares about. There’s a sense of mutual care in your relationship which makes you both feel safe and loved.

Oh, you’re both so snarky and I love it! When the two of you gang up on someone, they don’t stand a chance, both of you bouncing off the other and constantly upping the sass in the room until your opponent has no choice but to yield.

Even though they’re still relatively new, I think Asami would love going to see the latest movers. She thinks they’re fascinating and is glad you enjoy watching them as well.

She’s a reasonably creative person so I think Asami would like painting with you. Setting up your work stations next to each other and painting what you each feel like makes for an enjoyable day spent in great company.

Taking pictures is a must in your relationship. Asami loves hanging up photos from all your dates in her bedroom so she has a nice collection of memories to look at every day as a reminder of you.

In Blue Exorcist, I match you with...

You and Shiemi are probably the sweetest could anyone has ever seen. You’re both just so nice! It’s actually hard to believe sometimes.

She’s got a pretty strong protective streak herself so the protectiveness definitely goes both ways. She’s honoured you feel the same desire to keep her safe that she feels towards you.

Shiemi loves spending time with all of her friends but she especially loves spending time with you. I think one of her main love languages would be quality time (closely followed by acts of service) so whatever you two end up doing, she’s just happy to be with you.

Please give this girl as many cuddles as you can handle. She’s not touch starved but she’s not used to affection from people she’s not related to so it never fails to send pleasant butterflies through her stomach.

I definitely see Shiemi as someone who likes drawing, especially plants. She’d love to go on walks with you and a sketchpad so you can stop occasionally and make a sketch of what you see.

In Hazbin Hotel, I match you with...

When it comes to caring, you’d be hard pushed to find someone who cares more in Hell than Charlie. Your own caring nature is what drew the princess of Hell to you in the first place.

One of her main love languages is definitely quality time so she loves spending time with you. She’s very busy with the hotel and her plans of redemption but she’ll always make time to be with you.

Oh, Charlie definitely gets your dislike of hateful or rude people. We all saw how she reacted to Katie Killjoy in the pilot and Susan in the actual show. She might not always react like that but if it’s someone you both dislike, the chances of her snapping double.

One of the cuddliest people you will ever meet. She loves snuggles and is so glad she’s found someone else in Hell who likes that and lets her get her daily dose of physical affection.

Charlie definitely lives life her own way and isn’t fond of being told how she should be living. Since she knows you don’t like that either, she’ll be super supportive of whatever you do so cancel it out. If you do the same for her, she will be super grateful.

In Helluva Boss, I match you with...

Moxie definitely has a thing for slightly unhinged people. I mean, just look who he works with. The fact that you’re unhinged and also sweet and caring is just a win-win in his book.

He thinks it’s amazing that you can write. If you’re willing to share your work with him, he would love to read it. He’ll give lots of praise and gentle critique where it might be needed.

Moxie loves taking pictures, especially of you (if that’s something you’re comfortable with of course). He likes making photo albums of your dates and special moments so you can both look back on them in the years to come.

Oh my goodness, you can write and you can draw? Moxie thinks you must be one of the most creatively talented people in the world (no, he’s not biased, what do you mean?). He would be over the moon if you drew something for him but would never pressure you.

You can’t really escape hateful and rude people in Hell so Moxie can sympathise with your dislike of them. He’ll do his best to make sure you never feel that way about him or his friends though.

In Mystic Messenger, I match you with...

You and Seven would be an unstoppable snarky duo. The rest of the RFA don’t stand a chance. They thought they only had to deal with one snarky person and now there are two? And they’re in a relationship? There’s no hope for them…

Loves your dark humour. Seven definitely has that sense of humour as well so there will always be a plethora of dark jokes when you’re together. He will make sure he doesn't cross any boundaries though.

I’m very sorry to say but when your cats are around, you come second to Seven. He loves them so much and almost shuts down when they’re all around him. He just doesn't know which one to show love first.

Oh, it’s a godsend that you can cook because this man lives off cup noodles and Honey Buddha Chips. He loves your cooking too so this might finally get him to have a balanced diet.

I don’t see Seven as being a huge fan of the heat either since he spends most of his time inside, likely in air conditioning. He’s more than willing to let you share the cool interior of his home though.

In Spy x Family, I match you with...

If there’s one thing Loid admires, it’s those who make it their life mission to help people. It’s his own mission after all. So he definitely finds your desire to help others admirable.

To be in a relationship with a spy, whether you’re aware of it or not, you have to have an unhinged side. In Loid’s mind, this helps you keep up with the dangers of his work and, even though he’ll still worry about you being a target, he’ll feel a bit more comfortable.

Please share your writing with Loid. He’ll carefully read every word and give you really good feedback. He pairs his criticism with praise so it never feels harsh but you also get a really clear idea of how you can improve your writing.

Enjoys watching shows and movies with you. He doesn't get a lot of downtime with his work but when he does, it’s nice just turning his mind off and watching something with you next to him.

Loud is a great cook and he would love having you in the kitchen with you, especially since you like cooking. You get to spend quality time together and enjoy some amazing food at the end as well. It’s a win-win!

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iamnot-theboynextdoor · 1 year ago

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OFMD EP1 REACTION

i already know this is a dream sequence but opening on stede and izzy having a badass swordfight is dope

stede's fantasy is all about him looking and sounding super masc... babyboy that's not you...

HE FUCKING STABBED IZZY. HE KILLED HIM

and of course izzy's last words are "you absolute twaaaaaaaaaat" i'm fucking dying

AND THERE'S THE SLOMO BAYWATCH RUN GOD I LOVE IT

"knew you'd find me babe" and of course ed's got his beautiful beard back and he looks perfect and he loves stede's beard sfjgdskjgdshj stede

aaaaaaand f in the chat for stede's dream sequence, wee john is doing chemical warfare

"can't be worse than you moaning 'ed, oh, ed' all night long" f in the chat for black pete and the rest of the crew

AHAHAHA roach going "he's single" and shoving the swede at jackie. c'mon swede be a hobosexual for us we gotta sleep somewhere

"come closer. spanish jackie don't bite. i lied, i bite" and he giggles i am immediately on board congrats jackie on your 21st husband

love olu's fancy bartender waistcoat!

"i'll buy you a drink" this guy! the guy who's practically stede's twin! in the disco outfit that stede steals! is he the guy stede does a punch on? is he hitting on stede? oh my GOD where is this going

"richard banes. are you stede bonnet?" dear lord this guy could not have a posher accent. is he the guy who ends up with a fake nose. he's an undercover cop isn't he. how else does he know who stede is

awww fuck we're cutting to ed. shit's about to go down

(stede) "hope you're thinking of me as well" close-up on ed's TRUST NO-ONE tattoo. fuuuuuuuuck

and immediately the wedding ed's gonna crash is like some extremely classist/"we must breed more upper class, worthy humans" shit, so ed can do a little murder actually i immediately don't feel bad for them

"objection" ed can board a ship without anyone fucking noticing if it looks cool actually

THERE HE IS he's made everyone put on the emo paint. i keep pausing and rewatching this part. love izzy's sarcastic little smile

jim looks so fucking sexy

so does frenchie tbh

ed's just eating the cake. cake topper my beloved...

OH NO IVAN DIED. OFF-SCREEN. F IN THE CHAT. and frenchie only cares about the cake JUST KIDDING HE IS HARDCORE DISSOCIATING. poor fang tho...

stede taking down blackbeard's wanted poster... does he have a little shrine in the pig sty he's sleeping in. does he draw hearts on the posters

"he's just blowing off some steam" stede has decided the atrocities are cool and fun actually. atrocities are okay if the man doing them has big beautiful brown eyes too. what about it

"i also killed someone and stole their kiosk. sometimes action is better than vision" can we get sue on the crew? "that's what i've been telling him" "that's 'cause you're the smart one" sue confirms that olu is the only crewmember with a brain cell

'we can't turn up with any old ship, we need to look good" STEDE. FOR THE LOVE OF FUCKING GOD.

ed putting the little cake topper in his breast pocket next to his heart i'm going feral

"did everyone get cake?" "yeah they got cake"

ed is doing drugs and izzy has never looked more miserable and soggy. he looks like someone dunked him in an inkwell

OH HERE'S THE SCENE. THE SAD WET MEOW MEOW SCENE

shit's gotta be really bad if izzy needs to be rocked and cuddled while he cries... babyboy you should have just let ed hold the talent show...

i am not at all surprised that jackie's taking all of stede and co.'s savings. this is jackie's house. jackie does not have a tip jar. you're in the republic of pirates hide it better next time

BOO CAKES!

well you didn't even get jackie and the swede a wedding present. this is her wedding present. HIDE THE JAR BETTER-

"what if we took that back?" "i think my husbands would have a problem with that. have you met all twenty of 'em?" PAUSING TO LOOK AT THE HUSBANDS.

"that's a lot of husbands" black pete misses his husband, tails. he misses him a lot

love the one wearing no shirt and a tight waistcoat/corset thing with the axe. one's got cool glasses. two of them are either super twinky or lady-husbands, excellent either way (jackie and her lady-husbands, nandor and his guy-wives... beautiful...)

EDIT: THE TWO HUSBANDS ARE TRANS GUYS HELL YEAH HELL YEAH

"i know that guy we had breakfast together" "you will be having a lot of breakfasts-es together" "oh ok" sometimes a family is a pirate businesswoman and her 20 19 18 20 husbands and we stan

maybe the sexy axe husband cooked the breakfast. i am delighting in imagining them being all cute and domestic until jackie needs them to stand around and look intimidating and then they all scramble into position. their job is to cook breakfast and look sexy and scare the shit out of anyone jackie points them at

i like to imagine that as soon as one of jackie's husbands died she's like fuck i gotta get a new one to make up the numbers. my brand is 20 husbands i can't be seen with only 19. who's new in town that is remotely attractive. ooh, swedish blondie with a metal tooth, he'll look nice next to the one in glasses

anyway stede and co. are now homeless rip

why does roach have buttons on a rope leash sfhdskjghsgk is buttons so desperate to return to his true love (the sea) that they have to treat him like a toddler trying to run into traffic

"dear ed, i think i'm afraid to see you. i'm not afraid you're gonna kill me, i'm afraid your life is better without me!" I AM GOING TO LOSE IT. SOMEONE GET THIS POOR BOY SOME SELF-ESTEEM

i paused on the wanted poster and it said "wanted for theft brigandry larceny arson tax evasion" sgkjhsfgkjsfhgk the fucking IRS is going to find ed before stede does

"could be. could be, mate" stede your ed impression sucks shit

oh god richard's there. are you a cop or just a fan.

"the gentleman pirate saved my life! quite frankly, you're my hero!" with his fancy fucking coat oh god stede has a fan. stede has a copycat fan. AND STEDE'S NOW HAPPY OH MY GOD I AM HITTING HIM WITH A HAMMER (affectionate)

he fed stede a line about jackie's roman puzzle chest... i don't fucking trust this guy i'm convinced he's either a navy plant or a husband plant...

(if he is truly just a baby stede i'm putting him in a jar and shaking him (affectionate))

I FUCKING LOVE THE SWEDE

oh god back to ed's depression den

"not good enough. and that's another toe. take your boot off." okay ed, i know you're trying to get izzy or anybody to kill you in your sleep or something but i'm still. noooo don't commit atrocities you're soo sexy aha

"who am i to you" oh god. shit's gotta be really really fucking bad if izzy's doing emotional intimacy

"i have... love for you, edward" i'm going to explode

first of all izzy is delusional if he thinks he knows ed better than anyone else - we know and love this about him

second, con's fucking acting is going to kill me. he's looking at the floor, there are tears in his eyes, he's whispering and pauses as if saying the word love is going to kill him (and it's not just the emotional repression considering how volatile ed is)

and the way the line is written - it's not "i love you" or "i'm in love with you", it's not a thing izzy does or is, it's a thing he has. an object he's carrying around, separate to him, he's trying to distance himself from it.

and of course ed interrupts him with "oh come on" because he does not trust that anyone actually loves him and he doesn't want anyone to any more, he wants izzy to hate him and kill him!

"i'm worried about you, we all are. the atmosphere on this ship is completely poisoned. but if we could all just maybe... talk it through" SHIT'S GOT TO BE REALLY REALLY UNQUESTIONABLY HORRIFICALLY FUCKING BAD IF IZZY IS ADOPTING STEDE'S CATCHPHRASE

ed, ominously "as a crew" as blackbeard's leitmotif starts up... WORST CHOICE OF WORDS EVER IZZY I'M TERRIFIED

izzy: i fucked up i fucked up i fucked up i fucked up i fucked up

POOR FANG IS WHIMPERING ED DON'T SCARE HIM!!!!!

"i know who we should ask, ol' blackbeard!" (shoves gun under his own chin) jesus christ ed

"FUCKING END!" izzy has had ENOUGH

AND AS SOON AS HE SAYS STEDE'S NAME ED SHOOTS HIM

"frenchie, you are now first mate" STEPS OVER IZZY GROANING IN PAIN

i am very worried

HARD CUT TO THE SWEDE AND JACKIE LMAO

oh god stede's adopted ricky. this can only end terribly

aaaaaand f in the chat for ricky's nose

"i can't believe you guys robbed jackie! so bad!" swede.

jackie looks gorgeous though

SUE IS OF COURSE THE BADASS PIRATE QUEEN

and jackie loves her a sexy swedish double-crosser

thank you sue for adopting the gang of idiots

OH GOD JIM AND ARCHIE MOPPING UP IZZY'S BLOOD. THAT'S A LOT OF BLOOD

poor fang is still crying

awwww and jim's telling him pinocchio to calm him down! (but they suck at telling stories)

"do the voice"

and jim does the fucking voice

ed sounds like he's holding back tears as he describes sailing and robbing and never landing

"fuck you, stede bonnet" "good night, ed teach" HHHHHHH

stede come on man pick up a fucking oar you're not the captain any more

at least we got one romantic reunion! and it was buttons and the ocean <3

sdkfjhsdkjgsdk everyone being like "are we soup merchants now? sweet" and olu with his poor overworked brain cell like "hang on... there's no soup here"

ZHENG YI SAO FUCK YEAH BAY BEE

AFTER CREDITS SEQUENCE!!! storytime with jim extended edition!!!!!

#our flag means death #ofmd

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commander-kirschtein · 4 years ago

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warrior modern!au quirk headcanons

some random headcanons of our favourite warriors and what i think they’d be like in a modern!au (includes zeke, porco, pieck, colt, falco and gabi - reiner, annie and bertholdt are included in the 104th version which you can read here) hope you enjoy - mac

masterlist

zeke jaeger:

such a dick when it comes to driving - will pull out on people, refuses to give way, if he thinks you’re driving too slow he’ll tailgate behind you. and god forbid you’re a passenger in his car - at times you’ll be holding on for dear life because zeke decides the speed limit for himself. also don’t you dare eat or leave rubbish in his car unless you want him to kick you out on the side of the road.

does a lot of travelling - probably has a bucket list to visit so many countries in the world and visit all the heritage site. and you best believe he brings it up in every conversation.

when he’s busy doing something, he will mumble his internal monologue under his breath.

he is a ‘don’t talk to me until i’ve had my morning coffee’ kinda person.

has the most ineligible handwriting - like a doctor’s note/russian cursive kind of handwriting (so does grisha - it runs in the family.)

porco galliard:

definitely has a thing for tattoos - mainly in places where they’re not too noticeable - maybe one on his chest, one on his ankle, another near his hipbone (although i can also see him with a sleeve and it would look amazing.)

doesn’t smoke but he’s always carrying a lighter - he likes to play with it (which he thinks makes him look really intimating - it doesn’t, especially when he fumbles and struggles to get it to light properly.)

had an obsession with dinosaurs as a kid. literally his whole room was dinosaur themed and had a dinosaur birthday party for three years in a row (he pretends it didn’t happen but marcel would bring it up all the time.)

if he ever gets a slight pain in his body he goes straight to google - looks up all his symptoms and convinces himself that he’s dying.

porco has terrible eyesight. but he refuses to wear glasses in front of people so is always wearing contacts. but just imagine one day he realises he’s out of contacts and has to wear glasses for the whole day - his world would come crashing and it would take some major convincing for him to even get anything done that day.

pieck finger:

pieck is like a magpie - if she sees pretty things she will collect them. this will be anything from jewellery to loose buttons, cool looking coins, shells from the beach - she’ll put them all in a jar together.

she definitely had an emo phase. i can see her with black eyeliner, probably had a myspace page, definitely cried when my chemical romance broke up.

likes to doodle on things. when writing notes for a class, her page will be half notes and half little drawings of random things that have nothing to do with what she’s making notes about. especially likes to draw flowers and little sketches of things she can see out the window - and following from this, she probably spends a lot of time daydreaming.

has very vivid dreams and writes everything down in a dream journal - is able to lucid dream too. if she has a dream about you, no matter how weird, she will tell you with no shame.

very eco conscious - would probably buy a lot of clothes thrifted, would use shampoo/conditioner bars, would go to refill stores instead of buying brand new.

colt grice:

super sensible with money - like if he has the intention to save money he would actually do it and wouldn’t spend any of it.

owns several houseplants and would actually manage to keep them alive for longer than 2 months.

would always write people thank you cards if they gave him a present for his birthday or christmas - a text would not be sufficient, it would have to be a handwritten card.

when he was younger, he did a paper round and would walk people’s dogs for pocket money. he loves dogs and would definitely get one once he gets his own place.

but he also likes cats!! if he saw a cute cat on the road he would stop to pet and fuss it (would get super pouty if he did a pspsps and the cat ignored him and ran off.)

falco grice:

doesn’t like things to touch when he eats - also a very picky eater. one of those kids that will just have a diet of chicken nuggets and pizza (refuses to eat vegetables - colt would have to pay him $10 before he’d even consider putting a piece of broccoli in his mouth.)

would ask you if you have games on your phone.

never bothers unlacing his shoes and forces his feet into them - colt tells him off for it but he still does it (and consequently goes through too many pairs of shoes.)

does fornite dances in public. and definitely plays minecraft and watches minecraft/fornite youtubers - plays it at a really loud volume much to the annoyance of colt.

is that kid who’s broken every bone in his body - literally gets taken to the emergency department every 6 months for an injury he got while doing something stupid.

gabi braun:

threatens to fight everything - people, animals, inanimate objects - she wants to fight it (never actually would though, she just wants to seem tough.)

super snarky and sarcastic towards adults - if you’ve ever played the ‘last of us,’ i feel like gabi would be very similar to ellie in the fact that she’s got a retort back to everything. and despite being a kid has such a habit of swearing, like where did you learn all of those words child??

has an obsession with insects and creepy crawlies. when everyone is screaming because there’s a spider, gabi is screaming too but out of excitement. she’d pick it up and chase people with it (mainly falco who tries to run but gabi catches up too quick and shoves it in his face.)

despite being ‘tough’ she still sleeps with a night light and her stuffed animal she’s had since she was a baby.

halloween is her favourite time of the year. she loves everything about it - candy, dressing up, scaring the living daylights out of people - it’s her kinda holiday.

#i love writing these so much #i know they can be kinda random but they all just feel right for each character #sorry but zeke is a massive dick (but i am attracted to guys who are dicks so it's fine)#attack on titan #aot #attack on titan headcanons #shingeki no kyojin #snk #zeke jaeger #zeke yeager #porco galliard #pieck finger #colt grice #falco grice #gabi braun

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metalheadkells · 4 years ago

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Can u do the sunday morning walk of shame au drabble thingy.❤️❤️

“We met each other on a Sunday morning, both doing our walk of shame” AU

“Too old for this shit,” Marshall mutters to himself as he gingerly crouches to retrieve his keys from where they’ve fallen to the floor of his car, careful not to exacerbate the soreness in his muscles.

He catches his reflection in his side view mirror when he rises to his feet, and winces anew at how awful he looks, rumpled and unshowered and sallow-skinned. He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, his brain keeping him up with obsessive playbacks of a hookup that had turned more than a little weird earlier in the night. The worst part is, he can’t blame anyone but himself for it. He had opened the lid on some of his most closely guarded kinks, deciding for some reason that that was a thing he wanted to do with a random call boy about five times bigger than him and a decade his junior.

Marshall shoves away the utterly humiliating scenes that try to creep back into his consciousness and slams an iron door over them, shuddering with the mental effort it takes.

Focus, asshole.

Keys in hand, Marshall locks his car and ensures the brim of his hat and the hood pulled over that are firmly in place before slinking into the convenience store, empty but for the clearly sleep-deprived cashier and someone else perusing the assortment of Hostess snacks.

Marshall keeps his head down and moves quickly, snagging two Red Bulls and a bag of plain pretzels. He’s furiously debating between Cool Ranch Doritos and a Slim Jim, because god damn it he needs a not-depressing snack right now, when someone jostles him, immediately putting Marshall’s body on high alert.

His heart races and his hand goes to his phone in his back pocket as the guy says, “My bad, man,” in a voice that sounds worse than Marshall feels.

Marshall doesn’t respond, and doesn’t look at him, backing up to put a safe distance between them and turning to resume his miserable shopping.

“Hold up,” the guy says, like a realization is dawning on him, which… “Eminem?!"

Fuck.

Marshall whirls around and shushes him aggressively, his temper flaring. “Be cool. What you want, an autograph? If you have a pen on you, I can - ”

“Bruh,” the guy says, and at least he’s lowered his voice so as not to ping the drowsy cashier’s radar, “You don’t even fuckin’ recognize me, do you.” Marshall glances up into his face for the first time, blinking. And…

“Oh.”

“Oh? That’s all you have to say to me? Wow. Nice, dude.” Machine Gun Kelly curls his lip, awe giving way to pure scorn like he’s stepping into a well-worn costume, which isn’t even as ugly as the literal costume he’s wearing - a painfully bright neon green sweater with a transparent panel in the front that exposes a slice of his tattooed chest, ludicrously oversized jeans that appear to be covered in black paint splatters, chunky silver hoop earrings just large enough to be considered effeminate.

“You’re blocking the chips,” Marshall says, keeping his voice perfectly and infuriatingly level.

Kelly’s glare grows even fiercer, somehow. “Fine, whatever. I’m too hungover to fight your old ass anyway.”

Marshall takes a deep breath through his nose. “You don’t wanna antagonize me right now, trust me.” “Ha, sure. You pissed yourself when I touched you just now, but sure. I’m super threatened.”

Don’t explode don’t explode don’t explode don’t explode

“Fuck you, have a nice day,” Marshall manages, gritting his teeth and starting to take his Red Bulls and his depressing pretzels over to the cashier, not even caring to resolve his Doritos vs Slim Jim dilemma anymore.

“Wait, wait,” Kelly blurts, sidling up to block his path once more, big palms open in front of him in apparent surrender. “I’m sorry,” he says, stunning Marshall into stillness. “I had a rough night. Like, a really rough night. But I’ve put so much thought into what I’d say to you if we ever ran into each other like this - which by the way, what the fuck are the odds - and I don’t wanna fuck it up just ‘cause I feel like ass.”

Marshall stares at him for a moment, and then, when he doesn’t elaborate, says, “Well? I don’t got all day.”

Kelly grimaces, and Marshall wonders if he’s already regretting apologizing. “Just, like - I need a minute, alright, my brain ain’t all there.”

“You can’t blame that on the hangover,” Marshall snarks, “It’s the first thing I ever learned about you.”

Unexpectedly, Kelly looks more tired than angry at this comment. “Fuck, man, I’m tryin’ here.” He scrubs a hand over his face, drawing Marshall’s attention to his red-rimmed eyes, to the fresh bruise blooming on his left cheek and the specks of dried blood caught in his wildly tangled hair.

Something catches in the center of Marshall’s chest, and because he’s weak and exhausted and really fucking stupid, he says, “C’mon. We can talk in my car. I’m not tryna hang around here long enough for some other asshole to recognize me.”

Kelly shrinks a bit, fidgeting and casting his eyes around the store skittishly when he says, “Um. A’ight.”

“You’re not gettin’ anything?”

“Nah,” Kelly says, “I’ll just wait for you.”

Marshall buys him a packet of Sour Patch Kids from the checkout counter anyway, and when he quietly hands them to him as they’re walking through the gas station to Marshall’s car, Kelly gives him this look that’s as wide-eyed and grateful as if he saved his fucking life, or something equally significant. It makes electricity shoot up Marshall’s spine, and he instantly thinks, No. Anybody but him.

And yet, he is folded into the passenger seat of Marshall’s car, and he has sugar crystals on his fingertips and the corner of his mouth, and he is confessing dangerous truths as freely as blood pouring from an open wound, and Marshall is maybe kind of fucked.

#emgk #anon #asks!#mine #m: fic #requested #longer than i expected...uh. ok lol

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the-slasher-files · 4 years ago

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ANDREI KULOKOVA HEADCANONS

Clearly I cannot get this man out of my head.. like ever! Honestly I’ve been in a big big writing lull lately and I only want to write for Andrei, so I happy to share these hcs with you!.. hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

Andrei’s code names in the army were ‘The Wolf’ or 'North’

He has O negative blood type, meaning he is a universal donor. Andrei always (when he is wearing his vest) has IV tubing and needles, just in case.

On that topic, Andrei is very knowledgeable with medical information, he has saved many of his brothers in the army from death. He can save you, but the issue is if he cares to.

Yes he is a very hot bloodied man, but under pressure he is calm and cool, especially with his s/o. Feral rage can turn instantly off if he sees someone he loves really hurt, calmly giving orders and helping you.

Andrei never went to school after his mother died, at age 12. He may not be super educated in math or sciences but this man is smart. Never underestimate him. He can fix a truck, be your handy man around the house, and has amazing people skills.

He is a history buff.. Yup, you heard me. Andrei loves history, specifically war history. After his uncle died he was free to explore more education and he found a deep love in history, learning it all himself through reading, documentaries and listening to people around him. (Me and @horrorslashergirl have a weird AU where he is in college and works in a museum, in a suit with glasses 👀)

Andrei is trained in many things but one I don’t talk about often is bombs and specifically land mines. This guy loves to blow stuff up for fun and has a few land mines in specific places on his land, and abandoned town.

His favorite drinks are a deep earl grey (a Russian blend of course) and Vodka on the rocks.

He loves bath time.. yup a hot bath, even with bubbles he doesn’t care, he loves it.

One of my favorite things about Andrei is when he needs to think or stop his active mind, he goes into his field (usually shirtless) and just stands out there, closes his eyes, enjoying the peace and quiet.

Andrei HATES condescending and controlling people, it brings him back to when he was a kid or in the army. Now that may seem hypocritical but honestly it is not. Degradation is for sexy time and teasing only, and Andrei is only controlling with his playthings but even then he lets them decide and have a good amount of freedom.

Man is a furnace and doesn't feel cold what so ever

He loves action movies, even though he will comment on how unrealistic they are. Also he loves documentaries.

Andrei listens to all kind of music. Mainly rock or metal but he loves Russian new wave and some rap. He also had a HUGE punk phase so that occasionally comes on.

He will do any dare or bet, not even kidding. His army buddies stopped daring him to do stuff because he would just do it. Andrei is a big thrill seeker and will do so much stupid stuff.

He used to have a wolfdog, a brother to Amaria’s wolfdog Dyn. Unfortunately it had too high of a concentration of wolf in it and he had to let it go, but he does still see him every once and a while. He even named him Alexei, meaning “great defender” in Russian. Andrei always leaves one of the outbuildings open for him just incase the weather gets too cold or dangerous. Also he may or may not use him to get rid of bodies, if he sees him wandering around.

Andrei drives a 1995 Range Rover all black with giant snow tires, or his black old Russian truck.

He can ice skate and used to play hockey with his buddies

He is secretly loaded. Yes he has money in his walls and all over the town. Andrei knows what he is worth and his rates aren’t cheap, plus it’s all in cash so there is no paper trail. He is never one to flaunt his wealth, you probably won’t even know until you see him coming home from a mission with a duffle bag of cash, throwing it in under the floor boards.

Andrei had a secret male s/o in the army, it was his first male relationship but they had to hide it from everyone. In a dangerous feral state the wolf had killed him, that was his last undercover mission.

This guy can read people like no tomorrow, every tiny subtle thing you do he notices. Could be the way you bite your cheek if you’re nervous or the way you rub your hands together when excited. He knows.

Also Andrei is very good at manipulation but doesn’t use it often.

He is a terrible sleeper. Andrei wakes at every noise in the house and only gets about 5 hours a night but only 1 hour is actually deep sleep. Sometimes he gets so exhausted that his body gives out and he will sleep for 12 hours fully clothed, in his cargo pants, vest and jacket. However he is much better with an s/o to sleep with, it’s still bad though.

I say this a lot but Andrei has an incredibly active mind, and it’s hard for him to relax or ease up. He uses drinking and smoking as a way to calm down, also just walking into the field for peace.

His favorite food is a nice hardy warm stew with rabbit meat.

Andrei adores just holding his s/o in his arms as on the couch or in bed.

He is honestly kind of paranoid, not so much by himself but if he has a s/o. You can come with him to the nearest town, but never ever draw attention to yourself or him, for your safety. He has people after him.

The wolfs signature is ripping off someone’s jaw or ripping out their spine by gutting them and reaching in.

If you mess with him but he dubs you as not a worthy hunt or not a good kill, you might see a bear trap in your home the next morning.

His tattoo on his left palm 'NO GODS’ is something he got to remind himself that he has control of his life and take his fate into his own hands, not his paranoid controlling uncle. It also holds him accountable for his actions, there are no gods to blame, he did it. The tattoo connects to Amaria as well. She is a lil crazy and does kills for 'the gods’, but Andrei sees that as foolish, he does his kills for himself, nothing else.

The 'grateful for the hunt’ thing I often write in Andrei’s stories is what his uncle would always say to him, with people or animals. It’s burned into his brain and it will never leave him. The words remind him to breathe and take in every deadly detail, that Andrei loves so so much.

Alright time to get.. a little odd lol… me and some friends have an interesting thing going where Andrei has a 'wolf pack’.. Dallas (@slashersins oc) is his husband, not legally, but Dallas wears a wolf ring for him. Xaviera (@horrorslashergirl oc) is Andrei’s soul mate and girlfriend. Xaviera’s cousin Akshay is Andrei’s best friend, they fight constantly but have so so much fun.. plus they fuck when they’re drunk lol. I am Akshay’s 'snow queen’ aka girlfriend. Andrei also has 2 'playthings’ Bianca (@horrorslashergirl) and Sights (@thesightstoshowyou)… the house is too full and Andrei may or may not regret having all these people lol.

#my writing #andrei kulokova #slasher oc #oc #slashers #slasher x reader #slashers headcanons #hcs #horror

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mingi-bubu · 3 years ago

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the uhhh band winner guy is performing the song he won with rn

given how deep his speaking voice is, i am so so shocked at how his falsetto can go so high like. damn good vocal training for him

v chill song but not my style

next songyeah i am. not a kballad/folk music person but his voice is nice. his guitar playing is also v nice! i would probably listen to him if he was on an autmn or spring playlist i think. OH HELL YEAH STRINGSE LETS GOOOOOOO

if i fall asleep, at least this rainbow song is a peaceful choice

OH1!! I KNOW WHAT HIS MUSIC REMINDS ME OF

like the 60s/70s classic rock genre. its super similar to stuff ive heard from that era. i would be interested in finding out if that’s where he draws his inspiration from bc to me at least i think it would make sense. his hair is pretty, ‘s just a side note aldkfj;sldkjf

yeah idrc about the voting since it’s all super fake anyways

LETS GOOOOO AOTY WHO IS IT WHO IS IT

i dont think theyre gonna tell us rn tho right? seems a bit early doors imo

oh damn 26k wow

bts right? it’s probably bts album no? butter or whatever it was?

oh they really are announcing aoty now wowowowow

hey add cho jungseok to my fancast bc him and xiumin could sooo be brothers in a show i would believe it

oooh he’s hospital playlist man! i like him!!!

i like that hes explaining how an album works. genuinely think that thats kinda hilarious

c’mon i wanna know the nominees bc i stayed away from all of that

aespa savage, bts be (that came out this year??), iu lilac, NCT 127 STICKER LETS GOOOOOOO, dreamies w/hot sauce

please god let it be sticker please i want it i want it i want it

sticker pleaseeee

it’s probably bts. yeah. not surprised. lmao arent they in the us or smth rn?

they arent even there to recieve the award.

limitless challenges?

oh. o h. h i m

jung jihoon. wow...

no livestream don’t freeze ur so sexy aha

what was reckless?? well. okay guess i’ll never know :/

is he just talking about the plague and how kpop became popular? i mean yeah thats AWW THATS CUTE!! idc idc i love it when the fans are thanked fight me about it

oh wow it was even overlooked in korea?? incredible how things occur

i ddon’t think i’ll ever understand fashion. the man is just covered in all pockets. like. cargo shorts but make it black.

oh cool another guy appeared. beanie boy and pocket man. love their vibes. hate how pocket man has to cover up so many tattoos like just leave it beeeee

oooh ring of fire thats fun!

oh my god i am so upset that i am falling asleep rn. last year my sleep habits were so fucked up i was totally fine but this year i decided to not be a fucking gremlin out of under a rock and now i’m facing the consequences

i really don’t pay attention to things huh. i had no idea some of these things existed. its cool that these shows have brought greater awareness to the genre in soukor

once again have no idea who these people are but they look like theyre having fun so thats good :D

my laptop is burning my legs D:

the irony in me biasing rappers in idol groups but not knowing a single person on the stage

i think my brother would really like this tho this seems like his style of music

oh pink shirt and leather jacket guy looks familar

lmaooooo their dances are so funny its really cute its exactly how i dance too adlf;kjs;dlj

oh a lady appears!!

shes really fucking good holy shit

i want to give her my hand in the marriage action

oh this sounds soooo 90s i love it

yeah i deffo have to show my lil bro this performance it really is a good way to point out the way hiphop and rap have evolved musically since all of the different artists have different styles

i am now wide awake again

wow they put a lot of effort into the lights here huh

NCT NCT NCT NCT NCJT;AJRWFAIH SHOTAROOOOOOOOO

a;lksdfjkasd haechannieee

SOOBIN ASL;DKFJAS GOD HE SO HOT FUCK

i do not see mingi and the mullet

awweehhh jeongin is s’cuteee

wANNNA ONEEE OMG OMGOMGOMGOJGAOSIDJFPAOWIE

I CANT BELIEVE IT OMGGG

ATEEZ????

doraemon san <333

wadskllfjsd his helmet matches his hair

MINGMGINGIMGINGIGMIGJGINGMIGNIGMIGNAIDFHAPIUWEHFPAUIGH MINGMIGNIGMIGNIMGINMGINGIII I AM KISSING HIM I AM ISSING HIM OH MY GOGIAHSDFPOIHE FAI LOVE HIM SO MCUH I LOVE HIM AKL;SDFJAWKEJFAOI FUCK

deadass i didnt process yunho in there until the end my bad sorry jiejie

adfkas;djf;ase yeosangie is sooo funnny he really said delete your fucking emails babes

thats uh.... certainly a meal that exists.

a;lsdfkjsldkfj they really said matz <3

mingmgmigmimgingiasdfiohe mingimingimingimingi thoughts only

oh commercial time alright i’ll catch you all when its back then

#mama 2021 #jae.txt #jae.wwm

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xbellaxcarolinax · 5 years ago

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Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 19- Ragnarok

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 9090

Warnings: Violence in this one. Bad description of battle.

AN: This is a super long chapter. I’m so sorry. If you guys prefer shorter ones then I have no problem splitting them, just let me know. I also think this chapter is both boring and intense at the same time. You guys can judge. Hope you enjoy!

18- Protection

...

Ivar had always been a light sleeper, so it was no surprise to him that the smallest of noises made his eyes crack open in the dimly lit chambers. Recently, sleep came to him easily, despite the aches. After a long day of constant strategizing and training for the battle to come, slipping underneath the furs on a cool night was just enough to lull him into a dreamless slumber.

He never had a problem sleeping alone. It had allowed him to be alert if need be, but now, laying next to a much welcomed heat, Ivar had no problems drifting away, so long as Artemis was beside him.

Ivar made no movements, but his eyes scanned the perimeter of the chamber out of habit. There was a table with parchments littering its surface, a large changing screen, a fireplace not in use, and some candles scattered about to illuminate the area. Nothing seemed out of place, and nothing seemed to hide in the shadows. He looked over at Artemis who had her back towards him, and he decided nothing was out of the ordinary.

He shifted under the sheets, drawing closer to the woman beside him, his eyes slowly drooping until he heard it again. It was more distinguishable as a whimper, so low, yet loud enough for his trained ears to detect.

Ah. He should've known.

Artemis was having another nightmare.

He'd seen first hand how often they came to her at night. While his sleep had always been limited due to the constant pain in his legs, her sleep was always interrupted by terrors of some kind.

He runs a finger down the center of her back before gently placing his hand on her hip. He didn’t consider himself to be the first choice of comfort, but it was a start.

It seemed to soothe her for a moment as she stopped her whimpers. Satisfied, Ivar curves around her, careful with shifting his legs. He then moves his hand into the mass of her dark hair, fingers gently caressing her scalp in gentle motions.

This was oddly domestic.

But it was nice. He finds himself devoted to her, like a husband would to a wife.

Ivar bites his lips, suddenly aware of his heightened sensitivity. He felt he was a bigger mess of emotions when it came to Artemis, more so after their first night together. He knew who he was, embittered and rage filled. Such angry feelings within and yet, he melted at the sight of her.

No matter, there needn't be justification for things such as love or feelings or anything that relates to matters of the heart. Only the gods knew, and Ivar was fine with that.

He continues to gaze at her, his lazy eyes mapping out her small form.

Suddenly she turns over in her fitful sleep, facing him now with arched brows and eyes screwed shut. Her lips were tightly sealed, set in a frown.

Ivar sighs, carefully sitting up against the soft pillows. He places the back of his hand against her cheek, gently rubbing a knuckle across her smooth skin soothingly. Then he runs a finger over her brow in an attempt to smooth them down and ease her tension.

He frowns.

He had caused her such strife. He didn't need to be told what plagued her mind. Behind her lids he knew she replayed the images of blood, death and destruction. Subjects that he couldn't be bothered with ate away at her soul. Artemis was no fighter. She was a Christian, what he saw as an everyday occurrence was utterly disturbing for her.

Artemis exhales roughly through her nose before her eyes flutter open, blinking to clear her vision.

"Another nightmare?" He asks softly, smiling when she nuzzles her face against his hand almost instantly.

"They're like a plague," She groans, "I'm sorry for waking you."

"It's fine." Ivar tugs her towards him, having her cupped under his arm, her head laying on his chest. He could feel her lashes skimming over his skin when she blinked.

Oh yes, this was incredibly domestic, and extremely different then what he was used to, but he wouldn't change it for the world, not now, not ever.

"We've done this to you, all of us," Ivar mutters quietly, absentmindedly playing with her hair that draped over the two of them. She was silent, so silent in fact, that Ivar thought she might have dozed off again, as her breathing was steady.

"Some nights are better than others." She says, lazily dragging her finger across his bare chest, following the thick lines of his most recent tattoo. The swirls formed an image she was only just beginning to understand. She takes a breath as if she wanted to say more, but decides to settle into the calm silence instead. Ivar squeezes her closer, enjoying her warmth. She would talk to him when she was ready.

His eyes scan the light that filtered through the cracks between the fur drapes. It was daybreak, and in about an hour, preparations would begin for training.

"We have to leave soon." She mutters, looking up at him with a pout.

They were both still getting used to this, such intimacy and closeness. Her heart sang for Ivar, no matter how much her mind had been against it, but she willingly ignored it.

Ivar was shy at times, a side that was nothing compared to his war like demeanor. He skimmed his rough fingers over the soft skin of her exposed arm, humming in agreement.

"We don't have to leave just yet." He proposes, turning his body to fully face her, eyes glimmering with silent requests. His timidness certainly had its limits.

Artemis smiles up at him as he wraps strong arms around her. He captures her lips in a kiss that erases all rational thoughts and bad dreams.

Perhaps they could stay in bed a little while longer.

...

Vestfold was unpleasant.

King Harald's kingdom specialized in fishing, mostly whaling. In fact, upon setting eyes on its docks, one could not miss the skeletal form of a giant whale that was made to loom above them menacingly. The smells that lingered about were horrific, and the blood of the massive sea creatures dampened the soil in large puddles.

Harald was a contradiction of what Vestfold was like. He was a delight, throwing feasts without reason and talking of his brother often. He was the brightness that illuminated his kingdom, and if they were to be stationed there for some time, then it was only fair to make the best of it.

It was the forests where Artemis loved to reside as it was lush and green, so much green that it had her drifting off into other magical worlds. It was a place of shade in the summer heat, a tranquil, peaceful area with nothing but the birds singing and the cicadas chirping in the treetops.

Archery was practiced everyday for a couple of hours in the early morning before the sun was at its highest point in the sky. The skill came easily to her, and she learned a fair amount, but she was nowhere near as skilled as Hvitserk, and not even close to Ivar, but it became a routine for her to take her lessons with either one of the brothers, and both were merciless in their training.

There would be no private lesson that morning. Ivar decided to train with their most skilled archer's as they would have the duty to protect both himself and Harald on the battlefield. Artemis personally knew some of the warriors in Ivar's company, large and fierce with even larger bows in their hands. Those from Vestfold were equally as fearsome, their women tall with kohl streaked eyes. They emulated their beautiful queen who stood with them, though she lacked a bow in her hands or any form of weapon. She had sad eyes ever since the announcement of her pregnancy.

Harald and Hvitserk were out training with the other men and women in physical combat, along with Bishop Heahmund. Although Ivar is skilled with his axe, his specialty was as a bowman.

Ivar slowly walks in front of the crowd of archers, his slight limp and his crutch in perfect view for all to see. His eyes held the haughtiness of being in command, of having total control over the warriors.

"Archers!" He yells, and all the men and women of the first row immediately raised their bows, strings pulled back tightly and hands grazing their chests in practiced movements. Artemis obediently follows suit, raising her arms with the heavy bow in her hands, her muscles protesting the movement.

"Hold your positions!" Ivar booms, eyes already meeting with his lover. He smirked as he always did when she was particularly annoyed with him, and he knew she was.

In their lessons, when they weren't off giving each other gentle kisses under the shade of the trees, Ivar would always repeatedly say that warriors are made to hold their positions for longer periods of time during times of war.

She absolutely hated it.

"Straighten your posture, it'll send the arrow flying faster at a farther distance." Astrid suddenly appears at her side. The queen places her hands on Artemis's tense shoulders, forcibly smoothing them down. Artemis knew that Harald's queen had recognized her. Lagertha had always made Astrid keep an eye on her.

Artemis takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders off and pulling the bow string as far back as she could, despite the ache in her shoulders and the tightness in her chest.

"Hold your position." Astrid urges, sensing the discomfort she felt being surrounded by capable beings. Artemis's arm trembled from the pressure of the string as it did these past weeks of training. She turned her eyes to Ivar, who flashed her a grin as he walked off to the side of their flanks.

"Loose!" Ivar yells, and immediately arrows whizzed in the air, straight to their destinations. Artemis didn’t hesitate. She took a deep breath, letting her fingertips release the string, watching her arrow fly. It hits its mark and she beamed, a grin growing large on her face.

"Seems like the blacksmith will make for a shieldmaiden. Will you be fighting?" Astrid smiles at her, but before she could answer, Ivar grunts over to them with every step, brows arched in displeasure. His hawk ears didn’t miss a thing and he didn't trust the new queen.

"Absolutely not," He interjects, placing an arm about her shoulders, bringing her closer before instructing the next row of archers to shoot at the distant targets. Astrid crosses her arms, unamused.

"I've seen her with a hammer Ivar."

"And?"

"Would she not make a good warrior? I think she would." Ivar sucks his teeth, dismissing the comment.

"Perhaps in the future," He says, looking down at his new love from his great height, "But not in this battle."

"Have I no say?" Artemis feigns annoyance, crossing her arms as he quickly bends to plant a kiss to her brow.

Astrid was taken back. She'd been around Ivar long enough to know his dark nature, but next to the foreign girl he was a stranger.

"You think I would dare lose you when I just got a hold of you?" Ivar answers with a scoff, nodding at Astrid before turning them away from her. He orders the large crowd of archers to depart. They were ready, but Artemis was not.

"I will not lose you." He tells her, letting her go in order to summon his chariot, but she grabs his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

"Am I to lose you?" She questions.

"No," He replies with a grin, "The gods would not allow it."

...

The blacksmith's forge in Vestfold was nothing compared to York's. It was quaint, and ran by a family that reminded her too much of her own. A father, his wife, and their little boy and girl.

It made a knot form in her throat that made it difficult to swallow. The nostalgia ate away at her very core and she constantly had to blink back the tears of fond memories that she kept nestled in the back of her mind. Perhaps all the gods of the world did not intend for her to have a family.

She was set on the task of making arrowheads, and her nimble fingers were immediately at work, forcibly shaping the iron into deadly pointed edges. Working in silence beside her was the little boy of the family, making the shafts of wood to attach the arrowheads to.

His father and the other men worked to keep the fire going as they repaired whatever weapons needed attention.

The little boy hums to himself, not paying her any mind as his small hands attempt to shave down thin branches with his tiny blade. He struggled, his hand unable to pass it over the jagged surface of the branch. He grunts in frustration, tossing the branch and blade aside before crossing his arms stubbornly.

Artemis stops her sharpening, turning to look at the little boy with a smile.

"Here," She places down her own tools in favor of picking up his, "Like this." She flicks her wrist at an angle, showing him how to carve down the branch in a steadier motion, "It's like peeling a carrot." She tells him.

"I don't peel carrots," He pouts, "My mother and sister do when they cook."

"Well, if they can manage, so can you," She jokes, handing him back the small blade and branch, "Go on, try again." The boy hesitates before grasping the items, and after a few minutes of him trying and her watching, he gets the hang of it.

"See? You got it."

"Mhm!" The boy hums in glee with a tiny smile, turning his large eyes to hers, "Thank you." Artemis smiles, ruffling the boy's hair.

"Are you from England?" He then asks her, his tongue poking out as he worked, "You don't sound like us."

"No," She tells him, "I come from an island in the south." He turns to her again, his eyes twinkling in curiosity.

"Really?" That peaked his interest, "Farther than England?"

"Much farther," She voices with exaggeration in her tone, "Much hotter, and full of life." The little boy blinks up at her in awe.

"And how did you come to Vestfold?"

"Him." Artemis points out towards the bustling activity of the village, her finger following Ivar's hobbling form as he practiced swinging Heahmund's large sword.

"Ivar the Boneless!" The boy exclaims.

"Mhm."

They both watch on as Ivar approaches a whale suspended in the air by its tail, ready to be used for its supply of oil. In one swift movement he swings the sword, slicing the whale cleanly in half with a maddening grin on his face. He was obsessed with the blade, turning it round in his calloused grip. Artemis watches the blood and entrails spill out from the whale in disgust before looking down at the nameless boy.

He didn't shy away from the sight, though his little brows curved slightly at the scene.

"Caldur!" A woman's voice calls out, "Caldur, let the men finish the work, come help with the animals." The little boy groans, releasing his tools with a small grunt. Hopping off the chair he quickly turns to wave at her before running off.

Heahmund passes the boy, watching him run towards his mother before taking the seat beside Artemis. She doesn't say anything, not noticing him much as she was lost in thought, her eyes still watching Ivar handle the sword as he began a conversation with King Harald.

"Have you figured it out yet?" The sudden sounds of her native tongue startled her, and she pricked her finger with one of her arrowheads. She hisses in pain. She knew she should have worn gloves.

"Figured what out?"

"My sword. The steel." The bishop chuckles. They both glance at Ivar before turning to look at each other. Heahmund did not brood quite as much as he used to, but he was still just as irritating now that Ivar gave him leeway.

"No." She says irritably.

"It is Damascus steel."

"Damascus steel is a myth."

"So you've heard of it?"

"Yes," She drawls out, "And it is a myth." She repeats with finality. Damascus steel was said to be a strange metal that was resistant to rusting and shattering. No one knew how it was produced, and the secret was so well guarded in the east that it became legend.

"Then how would you explain the superiority of my blade?"

"Dwarfs." Was all she says, as if she believed it herself.

The older man sucks his teeth, clearly unamused. He grabs at an arrowhead for closer inspection. They were well made, even by his standards, and he knew they would be deadly once attached to wood.

"I've gone on pilgrimage to the Holy Land," He says after a moment, "The Arabs forge the steel. They say it comes from a land called India."

"India," She repeats the name, blinking in surprise, "I've never heard of such a place. If it is true, I shall like to go there one day."

"Perhaps you will."

"Do you wish to have your sword returned to you?" She asks, her eyes now focusing back on Ivar. He noticed them and immediately made his way over to them.

"He will tire of it soon enough. He prefers his bow."

"And will you truly fight for him?"

"It is our Lord's will that I do," Heahmund says, placing the arrowhead back upon the table Artemis worked over, his rough tone oddly drowning out her worries, "What is it you fear?"

Artemis shrugs before bringing her eyes to his. He held such unrelenting faith, such will and courage, strengths she did not possess. She didn't know who she was anymore.

"I am afraid of losing myself."

"We all have destinies. It just so happens that yours lies beside the crippled heathen."

She's never really believed in destiny.

"So you're friends with the bishop now?" Ivar barges in with a grunt, his eyes falling over the pair. He goes to stand by the work table, eyeing the tools and arrows with keen interest. He only knew how to sharpen his weapons but he couldn't actually make anything, really. It was impressive work, as always.

"We're civil," She answers with a smile, tilting her head towards the older man, "Isn't that right, bishop?" Heahmund grunts in annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ivar lowers himself closer to Artemis, quickly bringing a hand to shove at Heahmund's head so that his prying eyes would not see him kiss her plush lips. It was not the bishop's business.

"It's time for training." He then announces, turning to the bishop, shoving his head playfully one more time, "I thought you might want this back," He removes the sword from his belt, tossing it to him. Heahmund easily caught it very easily in his grip.

"I will see you tonight." Ivar mutters to her, placing another quick kiss to her brow before following Heahmund out.

They leave Artemis alone with her thoughts, and she almost wished the little boy didn't have to leave, so that she may have some form of company.

...

It was a beautiful day when their army departed.

The sun was blinding and the heat blistering. Back on their boats they went and into the sea, the calming waves carrying them to their destination.

Both armies were hundreds of feet away, biding their time for their leaders to ready themselves to declare war.

Ivar against Lagertha.

Brother against brother.

The intensity and ferocity could be felt in the air, from the birds soaring in the skies, to the creatures dwelling in the seas, it could be felt by everyone. Opposing camps were set before the battle and a last negotiation attempt was discussed before blood would be spilt.

Ivar's anger got the best of him when seeing Ubbe on Lagertha's side, as well as her son Bjorn, who had come from the Mediterranean just in time to defend his mother.

King Harald faces his own complications, extremely displeased with his brother. He tried to convince him to switch sides, but it seemed Halfdan's loyalty to Bjorn was stronger than his loyalty to his own brother. It was sad to see such battles within their own families. They would soon kill each other no doubt.

The camp was set up similarly to the one upon arriving in England, tents peppering all the way towards the horizon. The forging tent was miniscule, as there wouldn't be much need for it. The expectation was that the battle would end very quickly, and Artemis hoped that it did, with positive results.

Ivar had made arrangements for her to remain out of sight until he could come back for her, assuming he would come back. 2 guards were set to remain behind and watch over the camp, and in some ways, to look after her.

She sits on the ground at the far end of her tent to shield herself from the sun, fiddling with the loose threads that held her leather vest together, an anxious antic of the circumstances. To pass the time, she watches the warriors gather in preparation for the inevitable. Ivar was busy meeting with Harald, most likely more talk of strategy and such. She couldn't be bothered with the details, but it ultimately left her lonelier than she cared to admit.

The day continues, as well as the heat. Hvitserk appears suddenly in the campsite with Bjorn following behind, and the warriors instantly begin to murmur of his sudden return from the Mediterranean. They stopped in front of the tent, bickering quietly between themselves.

Her eyes catch a glimpse of Bjorns form, immediately noting his change in appearance. His skin was tanned, kissed by the sun, and his face glowed like she's never seen it before. His hair was paler, extremely flaxen and bright. He seemed to be a completely different person somehow; a changed person.

"Ivar will not back down," Hvitserk tells him with a sigh, crossing his arms and standing firm. They took shade in her tent, and she suddenly felt awkward as they began to bicker again.

"And neither will my mother," Bjorn answers back, "We are brothers, all sons of Ragnar. I do not wish to fight my blood." Hvitserk runs a hand down his face in frustration.

"And you think that I do? Lagertha killed my mother!"

"And your mother ripped apart my family!" They bickered so quickly that they were almost incomprehensible, tongues lashing at one another. They were in such a heated debate that they had both failed to notice her.

"All Ivar has done was separate us," Bjorn mutters, "You and Ubbe cannot even look at each other. Do not think I haven't noticed." Hvitserk proceeds to frown, knowing his relationship with Ubbe had deteriorated. It made him feel terrible.

Hvitserk remains quiet and Bjorn scoffs in response, blonde hair whipping about as he turns to show his younger brother his back. Bjorn's blue eyes landed on Artemis's small form, crouched in the corner, her head turned away from them as she worked to rip apart blades of grass between her fingers.

"Artemis?" He calls out to her, shifting his head to get a closer look at her from behind the small table. She says nothing, but offers him a nod of acknowledgement.

"I thought the tent was empty," Hvitserk says, "We sound like a couple of old fools, hm?"

"Hvitserk tells me you are now a free woman." Bjorn's curiosity had gotten the better of him.

"Yes." She nods again.

"Ivar is full of surprises, isn't he?" Bjorn chuckles darkly, crossing his arms in amusement.

"Without a doubt."

"I want you to know that I've seen the rest of your island," He continues, the small hints of a sad smile on his burned lips. Her heart suddenly drops, "And I must admit I've met the strangest people."

"I'm sure they thought the same of you." Was her snarky response, watching his shoulders shake in genuine amusement. "Was it to your liking?"

"The Mediterranean is a beauty. I've seen things I could have never dreamed of. I will remember it fondly."

"Yet you hide something." She tells him, rubbing her hands down the sides of her trousers, reaching out to rip more grass from the dirt. Bjorn sighs, turning to glance at a frowning Hvitserk before replying.

"Crete has been invaded. Andalusian's conquer the island. I left just as war had broken out." She could feel her heart pulsing in her ears as soon as he uttered those words. An uncomfortable heat rushed through her, as if her body were trying to fight off something within her.

"Andalusian's?" She finds herself asking in the softest tone, suddenly feeling faint. She blinks rapidly to gain her senses back, watching Bjorn tilt his head at her before nodding.

"They are Muslim's from Spain." Finally, she releases a breath, her hands gripping at the roots of her hair to make sense of the words.

"They say that the Arabs attempted to conquer Crete well over a hundred years ago," She speaks so low that both Hvitserk and Bjorn had to step a bit closer to hear her, "Everyone knows the story."

"And what happened then?" Hvitserk asks her, crouching down to sit beside her.

"The Emperor had prevailed in its defense," She continues, bringing her glossy eyes to Bjorn, "Why...?" She couldn't even formulate the words to ask him, but he understood.

"They were exiled from Spain. The island was an easy target for them to control."

"Artemis, you're crying." Hvitserk states dumbly, watching little tears roll down the apples of her cheeks. Somehow Hvitserk was always there to see her cry.

"If what Bjorn says is true, and war has broken out," She struggles to say, fighting the feeling of her throat constricting, "Then people were killed. My father could have been killed."

"You don't know that," Bjorn interjected, "You cannot say for sure."

"How can you say that?" She challenges, "You are a warrior. You should know well the fickle outcomes of war." Bjorn remains silent, releasing a large sigh at her comment.

"War spares no one, not even the innocent." She sniffles.

They all knew it to be true.

...

Negotiations failed miserably, and war was officially declared.

Horns blasted and the warriors assembled into their places in an orderly fashion on both sides. Chanting echoed across the green pastures and weapons were held high in the air.

Harald cheered alongside his men, giving them some kind of speech to arouse them with the need to slaughter. It wasn't very hard to get them to react in the way he wanted.

Ivar smiles, his feet hanging off the edge of the small cliff. His eyes scanned the field eagerly, gaze trained on Hvitserk and Heahmund as they took their positions. He'd need to join them soon.

"Men will speak of this day." He says quietly to himself, but Artemis hears him well enough, slowly approaching to kneel beside him. Just below were his archers waiting to defend him, his chariot prepared to ride off.

He turns to her, offering a grin despite the frown tugging at her lips.

"Are you worried?" He asks, reaching out a hand to smooth the lines on her brow. It was wrinkled in concern.

"A bit." She quietly admits, wringing her hands as proof that she was much more worried than she let on.

He notices the quiver strapped to her back, the unstrung bow nestled neatly within the arrows.

"What do you think you're doing with that?" Ivar jerks his chin towards her weapon with brows raised, "Do you intend to fight? I cannot allow you to be here. You are to go back to camp."

He watches her scan the battlefield just as he had. The men roared at each other as they pounded their fists against their chest. They were desperate to fight, and the energy that once made her uneasy seemed to fill her with something she couldn't really identify, but it made her want to run into danger.

"And what if I do not wish to go to camp?" She finally retorts, shifting her gaze to his.

"Do not be foolish," He grunts, playfully tugging at the ends of her braided hair, "It is not a matter of debate. The battlefield is too dangerous for a baby bird such as yourself." Somehow, he still had a sense of humor, even at the very brink of a war.

"I do not care," Her tone was stubborn like a child, "I do not care for my fate." Not anymore, anyway.

A noise resembling a growl brewed in Ivar's throat as a sign of his displeasure. He grips her chin tightly with his fingers, turning her face up to look at him. His eyes were hard and calculating, but impossibly blue, and filled with so much more emotion than he could ever express.

"Do not say such words so carelessly," He grits his teeth, the pressure of his fingers enough to make her wince, "What is the matter with you, hm? Do you not think when all this is over that I wouldn't want to rejoice with you in my arms?" Artemis shakes off his grip, bringing her eyes down towards the open plains at the very bottom of the cliff, worrying her lip between her teeth.

He sighs, throwing his arm around her shoulders to bring her close to him again.

"It is dangerous," He repeats, "And I do not wish to see you hurt." She listens intently as he murmurs the words into her hair, struggling to make his affections clear.

"You are not afraid?" Her voice sounded so small, drowning in the sea of war cries.

"No," He answers without hesitation, "I've waited for this long enough." Artemis shifts under his arm to get a good look at him. She searches his eyes again as if it were the last time she would see them, reaching up to place her hand over his prickly sideburns. Ivar sensed a farewell in her actions.

"Do not look at me like that," He demands, his lips curving into a gentle smile, "Your eyes say too much. You wound me before I can even go into battle."

She begins to feel the familiar pricking sensation in her eyes again, and they quickly gloss over, fixing her a blurry image of Ivar. Overwhelmed with emotion, she suddenly moves forward to smash her lips against his, the force causing Ivar to lean back unsteadily before pushing forward with the same fervent intensity that she had. After a few urgent kisses she pulls away, throwing her arms around him as she buries her face in the crook of his neck.

"Ivar?" She sniffles.

"Yes, baby bird?" He holds her tight, knowing in just a few moments a battle would be separating them. He runs a hand down her braided hair, feeling her tears against his skin, her voice wavering as she speaks.

"Pray that your gods protect you." ...

She was forced to stay back at the camp, utterly alone, save for those two guards, but she noticed they had silently disappeared a while ago. Probably bored of playing caretaker. She had robbed them of the excitement.

She could hear the battle, the warriors crying out in the distance. It drifted over the camp like a wave crashing against a shoreline. It was unlike anything she's ever heard before, and just the sound alone made the battle of York seem trivial.

It was enough to peak her curiosity, wondering what it must feel like to stab and kill another living being. The thought never crossed her mind before, and as a Christian, why would it?

If Heahmund, a bishop, could fight so vigorously, then why couldn't she...right?

She had a strong desire to just walk off into the middle of their war, to witness death first hand, perhaps even walk into a blade.

Who did she think she was? A fighter? No. A coward? Maybe. Yes.

She sighs, feeling the need to escape the tent after a few minutes of playing the scenarios over and over in her mind. The outcome of such a battle was uncertain. Ivar was undoubtedly a master strategist, he'd been planning the attack for 2 months, and although she knew he'd been trained in the skills of a warrior, she still wondered...would he escape out of this alive?

She could already imagine his rage if she voiced such a thought to him.

What, you think me weak like you, baby bird?

She allows herself a small smile, releasing a little puff of laughter. Her fondness for him had grown exponentially, which made all of this much harder.

She roams about the empty campsite until she finally decides to plop down on the grass, continuing to listen to the faint yells in the distance. A few minutes passed and she was growing weary.

Pulling an arrow from her quiver, she brings it down with a force, stabbing the sharp point deep into the dry earth to distract her mind.

Stab, stab, stab. Sigh.

As she littered the ground in slashes, old scuffed shoes appeared in front of her, and she quickly jerked away to get a good look at the intruder.

"What are you doing?" Freydis looms over her with a quizzical look upon her pretty little face. Artemis watches the blonde sit in front of her, the old dress she wore pooling around her.

"You have been traveling with the army?" Artemis questions her, hand tightly gripping the arrow as if ready to stab her. She was already in a foul mood.

"Of course I have. Wherever Ivar goes, I go." Artemis doesn't bother gracing her with an answer, only looks on at her with a curious expression. They've never had a formal conversation before, and the last time she'd seen the blonde was that day in York.

"I was so sure I had him. I thought perhaps I could please him," Freydis continues, smiling bitterly as she leans back on her hands, comfortably stretching out her legs, "But I see you have caught his eye instead."

"What a pity," Artemis feigns sympathy, twirling the arrow in her fingers, "You sound bothered."

"I had a plan," Freydis hisses, suddenly lurching forward on her knees to point an accusing finger at her, "I had a plan and you stole him away from me." Artemis jerks away from her, using the wood of the arrow to push Freydis's finger away from her.

"You had a plan." She repeats Freydis's words flatly, unamused.

"Of course I did! I convinced Ivar to free me. He takes kindly to words of praise, loves to be told of what a great king he would be." Freydis releases a hysterical giggle, and something about that makes Artemis uneasy. The blonde seemed to be at wit's end.

"And so you offered your body to him, in return for what? Power?" Artemis concludes.

"It is what all men want," Freydis says, the little angry arch in her brow becoming more apparent, her voice rising a few octaves as her frustration bubbled to the surface, "I was supposed to be taken care of, he was supposed to take care of me. I do not have the means to survive as a freewoman." She brings her blue eyes to glare at Artemis. "And I do not like competition." She finishes her rant.

"There is no competition," Artemis sucks her teeth, shifting to stand before returning the glare.

"I do not understand why he chose a foreigner," Freydis shouts in frustration, "You are nothing compared to a true northern woman." Artemis bites her lip, her eyes racking over the blondes features. Freydis was quite beautiful, even in hysterics, and she felt the tugs of jealousy on her heartstrings at the memory of her looming over Ivar.

She huffs, heat rising to her cheeks in anger, but she refused to feel the hands of envy. There were other things to worry about, and a conniving woman should be the least of them.

"Perhaps he realized how much of a poison you are," Artemis sneers, "Trying to latch on to him like a leech to blood. If all you have to offer is your body, then I'm sure you will have no trouble finding work." Freydis glares, her pretty face scrunched up in displeasure at the insult.

"You're ambitious." Artemis continues to say.

"And you lack it!" Freydis throws her hands up, "Ivar could make you his queen if he wished it so!"

"I've no interest. I am a foreigner as you say." The thought had never crossed her mind before. She saw herself as nothing more than, what, a companion? She shakes her head, focusing her attention towards the edge of the camp to avoid punching the blonde.

"Then step aside," Was the last thing she heard Freydis say, but she ignored it, her eyes catching bright colors lapping at the tents at the edge of the campsite. She blinks, squinting her eyes until the smoke begins to reach high as if to touch the heavens.

Fire.

It was spreading rapidly.

Artemis felt she couldn't move, her body rigid as all she could do was stare stupidly at the scene.

"What is wrong with you?" Freydis snarls, "Have you suddenly gone stupid?"

Artemis ignores the blonde's babbling again, her eyes making out silhouettes that now turned into the shape of men, warriors, all carrying torches, and all charging towards them with immense speed.

"Freydis, get up."

"What?"

"Get up and run!" Artemis lurches forward, grabbing the blonde by the arm and using all her strength to pull her to her feet. Freydis stands and looks over her shoulder, immediately letting out a terrible shriek. They grew closer, setting fire to all the tents and to whatever else they could burn. They were about five, all Lagertha's men by the blue colors they wore on their arms.

"Run!" Artemis pushes Freydis forward and they both take off in a sprint.

"Who are they?!" Freydis heaves, turning back again to glance at the men, easily setting the entire encampment aflame. The summer heat increased the fires tenfold.

"Lagertha's men, they're destroying the campsite!" Artemis coughs, the fumes of the fire already reaching her throat as they ran past the many tents that began to burn. Rations, supplies, everything was burning to cinders.

Her boots stomped over the dry grass, crushing twigs and everything else in her hurried pace, yet she felt they'd never reach the forests quick enough.

Freydis screams as an arrow whizzes by her, grazing her blonde tresses. She lets out a wail of fear, tears pouring down her pale face that blurred her vision. She stumbles, skirt tangling in her legs enough to cause her to fall, grabbing onto Artemis's quiver on the way.

Artemis let out a yelp on impact, her face colliding into the hot dirt. Tears ran freely down her cheeks, and she hisses as the pouch of arrows and her bow dig painfully into her side.

The flames grew taller, brighter than the sun. It was as if they had descended into hell itself.

Still, the men grew closer, smiles on their faces as one readied his bow again, pulling the string back.

"Freydis, get up! Get up!" Artemis cried hysterically, stumbling to her feet and pulling her up, but the blonde refused, becoming a sobbing mess as she choked on poisoned air. "If you don't get up, we will die!"

"It is fated! The gods, they-" Freydis stops, her eyes bulging out and blood immediately dripping from her mouth. An arrow pierced her throat completely, lodged all the way through. The tip of the arrow was visible through the skin, blood pouring out the deadly wound. A shriek lodged itself in Artemis's throat at the sight of a choking Freydis.

There was so much blood spilling out, and finally she did scream, sweat mixing in with her tears as she fought to rise to her feet. She glanced down at Freydis, watching her choke to death, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her voice weak gurgles against her blood.

That was not a fate she wanted for herself.

She couldn't spare Freydis a second glance, turning on stumbling legs and pushing forward.

"She's the one! Shoot her down already!" She barely heard one shout, and immediately another arrow soars, the tip tearing at the flesh of her left ear. She ignores the blooming pain as she runs, already feeling the blood leaking down her jaw and onto her neck.

She wanted so much to collapse, the bad air and her tired legs slowing her down.

Another arrow whizzed by, barely missing her cheek as it fell flat to the ground.

Run run run run!

She repeated the mantra, frantically searching for those guards that Ivar had assigned, until coming to the realization that they were most likely dead at the hands of those men. This was obviously planned.

The bow and quiver felt heavy on her back, completely useless as she was not yet skilled to render a man dead, and she was much too fearful to do so. But she needed something, anything.

The forging tent comes into view, and she thinks she had surely left something lying about, anything that would help her if she came face to face with one of the warriors. She could nearly see it, the tarp slowly catching onto the flames that spread.

More arrows were shot, along with more shouts of frustration, enough to make her wonder how they haven't pierced her already in the way they so easily did to Freydis.

She turns round quickly to see the men at her heels before finally entering the tent. Her large hammer sat untouched on the wooden table top, seemingly ready to be used. She grabbed it tightly in her hand and sprinted out the tent just as it began to collapse in fire.

She runs into the surrounding trees, hoping that they'd lose her, but they probably knew the forests far better than she.

One of them was successful in reaching her, his long legs stomping behind her. He was big in stature and a nasty smile played on his lips. Large dirty hands reached for her, grabbing onto the front of her vest and jerking her forward. She screams, knowing his intentions were beyond just killing once he rips her vest open.

The hammer hanging lifeless in her grip suddenly felt hot in her hand, enough for her to muster all her strength to swing the it against him as if beating a mighty sword. Though uncoordinated, she struck him well enough across the head with all her might, a cry passing through her dried lips. Blood splattered over her face but she barely noticed, blinking the red from her burning eyes as he released her with a shove.

He stumbled back from the impact; stunned, eyes rolling to the back of his skull before falling onto his back. His blood spilled onto the grass, pieces of skin and grime hanging from the deep gash. Her hands trembled, but again, she raised her arms high above her head, bringing it down with a sickening crack, smashing his face into mush until he was completely unrecognizable.

She sways, falling hard on her knees, vomiting the contents of her stomach right beside her first kill.

She just killed a man.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins, her ears perking up at the sound of heavy feet crushing leaves and fallen branches. The others were close, and she had to escape, but the farther into the forest she ventured, the closer she was to the clearing where the battlefield was. She was running away from an opponent, only to fall into another trap.

Her breathing was erratic and her muscles tensed, but she pushed on, bloody hammer in hand. The faster she went the farther away she was from the attackers, slithering her way behind ancient trees and large shrubs, but it was as if they had just vanished. She could not hear them tracking her down anymore, but it wasn't enough to stop her from pushing further.

Move. Keep going. Faster.

Turning to look over her shoulder she trips over a large jagged stone, her legs finally giving out. With a yelp her body slams to the ground, twisting and rolling down the harsh forest floor. Twigs and leaves stuck into her hair as her world spun.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally comes to a stop with a pained grunt. She lands on her face, grass and dirt entering her mouth. She spat, turning her head to the side, groaning at the feel of her aching body. So much noise surrounded her, the clash of metal and the war cries of men. She closes her eyes, wheezing as she fights to breathe. Her throat burned still from breathing in the toxic fumes.

She was tired.

If the attackers wouldn't reach her, then something else would finish her off.

She began to drift off, eyes fluttering when an annoying pain bloomed on her cheek over and over. It was a pecking, like a needle trying to pierce through her skin. She cracked her eyes open, blinking to clear her vision.

It was a raven.

It's beady eyes were as dark as its feathers, cocking its head as if questioning her. It pecked her again, this time on her hand before flapping its wings erratically as if to take flight, but it never did. It just looked at her.

Artemis squints against the glare of the weak sun, now hiding behind the darkest of clouds. A storm was approaching. She glances back at the bird that remained very still by her side before rolling her tired body over at the scene before her.

She had landed on the small hill where she bid Ivar goodbye, and she was surrounded by some of the dead bodies of Ivar's archers.

With a startled kick to the body beside her, she shifts, moving to crawl away to be at a distance from the bodies. All were littered with arrows.

The bile rose again as her eyes scanned the field. It was nothing she could have imagined. Hundreds of bloody bodies strewn across the clearing, and hundreds more fighting with all their might in the name of their leader.

Her eyes memorized the images of the deformed bodies, some disemboweled, others dismembered. Limbs were hanging off the bodies of the wounded who screamed from the shocking pain.

The bile came out, and she gags, sweat clinging her hair to her brow like a second skin. She spat, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth, feeling the sting of cuts littering her cheeks from the sharp branches. The pain of her torn ear finally hit her full force, and she squeezed her eyes shut at the unusual pain. She brings her fingers to touch the wound, and what should have been the shell of her ear was gone. Horrified, she looks at the fresh blood coating her fingertips, swallowing thickly.

With a shuddering breath she struggles to ignore the pain, scanning her eyes once more over the field, searching for his chariot.

Could he be...dead?

Before she could fall back into the dirt against the prospect, she spots him, riding across the field like the king he knew he would be.

He was yelling orders at his men, stopping occasionally to lodge his axe into someone’s skull. Even from a distance she could see the blood that coated his face and the look of determination he had.

He wasn't afraid.

She was in absolute awe. Ivar looked incredible.

She would smile if she could, but all chances were taken away when Queen Lagertha, clear as day, makes her way towards Ivar's chariot, sword held high in hand.

The wheel of his chariot was stuck, and he couldn't get the mare to pull him out.

That was just enough time to make her kill.

"No, no, no," Artemis begins to cry, gripping her loose hair as she watches the scene unfold.

The raven, already forgotten, begins to flap its wings rapidly, cawing quite loudly. As soon as she stood on her shaky legs, the raven flew, perching itself on her shoulder. Its claws sunk into her flesh, though she hardly noticed. What she did notice was the raven was still cawing, like it was urging her to do something.

But what? All she had was her bow.

Oh.

She reaches for the bow strapped to her back, taking the splintered wood in her bloody hand. It should have snapped from the impact of her fall, but it strangely remained in one piece, along with some of her arrows. Quickly, she digs in the pocket of her trousers for the bowstring, her shaking hands attaching the stretchy fibers to the bow as she was taught.

Taking a deep breath, she removed an arrow from her quiver, locking into place. The raven pecked at her cheek gently and she knew what she had to do.

But could she do it?

Ivar ceased his desperation to move his chariot. For a moment he was smiling, realizing he had the upper hand in the battle anyway, but all would be for nothing if Lagertha got to him first.

The queen stabbed at the warriors in her way, going straight towards him ever so slowly, and it was like everything around them had disappeared. All Artemis could see was Ivar and Lagertha, nothing else.

And she only had one shot.

She raises the bow, pulling the string as far back as she could.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Steady your stance. Pull the string. Release the arrow.

She recites the lesson in her head.

Lagertha raises her sword above her head, ready to bring it down in one swift movement. She yells as she builds up momentum, and Ivar quickly turns in surprise, his instinct quick to react, raising his axe to clash against her sword. She falls back, and again, raises her sword, so close to penetrating his armor.

Shoot!

A voice boomed, whether it was around her or in her head, Artemis didn't know, but there was no hesitation. Her fingertips released the sting and the arrow went flying at a fierce velocity to its target, impaling itself all the way through the flesh of the queen's wrist.

She cries out both in anger and pain, staggering back again as she gritted her teeth harshly against the excruciating pain. Her fingers spread open to drop her sword, falling onto her knees as she weakly cradled her wrist.

Ivar wasted no time. He grabbed a hold of his axe, slithering down to the ground and pushing Lagertha on her back, twisting the arrow lodge in her flesh to keep her from attacking. She screams and flails, Ivar's weight taking a toll on her already weak body.

He places his large hand over her eyes tightly, using the force to smash her head onto the ground. He lowers himself closer before bringing down his axe against her throat, slicing her head cleanly off.

That was it. The war was his. Kattegat was his.

He collapses onto his back beside the dead woman, he chest heaving as warriors continue to fight around him.

Slowly he sits up, the head of Lagertha in a death grip as he dragged his tired body over to his chariot, mounting the seat. He raised her head in the air by the hair, the blood leaking over his arm and onto his armored chest.

"Surrender!" He booms, "Lagertha is dead! All hail your new king!"

The opposing warriors began to retreat, fleeing back into their camps. Ivar's warriors cheered, yelling their praises to the gods, until some noticed the smoke filling the atmosphere from the tree tops.

The camp! The camp! Yelled the warriors.

Ivar's smile fades. He drops his arm, turning to look over his shoulder at what the other men gazed at.

The trees on the hill top were indeed surrounded by smoke, but that was not what held his attention.

Artemis stood there, blood, dirt and soot covering her face, chest heaving and bow held in a death grip in her trembling hand. A raven sat comfortably on her shoulder, flapping its wings wildly.

She was a sight to behold. Ivar couldn't tear his eyes from her. She looked every bit a warrior, even now as she fell to her knees, staring at him just as intently.

And then he realizes.

She was the one. She shot the arrow.

Ivar had so many questions, his mouth opening like a fish out of water as if to shout them to her from where he was.

He barks at a passing warrior to move his chariot, and once it was loosened, he turns it to bring it closer to the cliff. They stare at each other for a while until Ivar slowly raises Lagertha's head in the air towards her, as if offering it to her as a prize.

She stares at the decapitated head before dragging her eyes over Ivar's armoured body, covered in the sticky blood of his enemies. She would have been fearful of such a sight once, but now, all she wanted to do was fall into his arms.

The raven cawed loudly, flapping its wings again to gain her attention, but when she turned her head to look at the creature, it flew off, disappearing into the smokey sky.

Suddenly in the midst of the smoke stood a figure, an old man in all black. He held a long wooden staff in his spindly fingers. His beard was gray, long and matted, and when Artemis finally settled her eyes to look into his, she was startled. One eye was beautiful, different shades of blue in its depths, but the other a gaping black hole with dried blood around the edges.

He smiles at her.

"Well done." His voice seemed to vibrate through her before disappearing into a cluster of cawing ravens that colored the skies black.

...

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years ago

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⚘ Karasuno Alumni (Daichi Sawamura)

Genre: Slice of Life, AU, Fluff, Friendship

Word Count: 3,132

Pairing: Reader x Daichi

World: Haikyuu

Prompt(s): A bought the last piece of [item] that B was about to get. / “I have nothing to lose.” / Tattoo Artist AU

Author’s Note: This was written for the weekly-prompt (08/19/20) over on @hqbookclub ‘s discord server – you should check it out if you haven’t It should be noted that I do not have tattoos and I know nothing about tattooing. I asked a couple different people and watched a couple videos, but it’s hard to understand if you haven’t experienced it yourself so I kinda just wrote what I imagine would take place and how it would feel. So yeah.

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You didn’t get cravings very often, but when you did, they drove you absolutely batty until you got the object that you suddenly desired so badly. This was especially annoying at midnight when all you wanted to do was sleep but your brain wouldn’t stop craving for some strawberry flake pocky which, not so conveniently, was sold only at the quick mart about twenty minutes away from your house.

With a groan, you forced yourself out of bed, throwing on whatever clothes you could find quickly as you grumbled under your breath about how much you hated your brain and its ability to act like a damn toddler. And nearly thirty minutes later, you found yourself approaching the quick mart, still grumbling under your breath, though, at this point, it was more noises than words.

The glass doors slid open, a burst of cold air hitting the top of your head and causing a shiver to go down your spine. The cashier, a young girl that should probably be in bed and not working at one in the morning, smiled brightly upon your entrance.

“Welcome!”

You nodded at her before heading toward the back of the store where your precious pocky was located. The pocky was lined up at the end of the aisle, appearing in your line of sight as soon as you turned the corner, but the lack of flavors was startling. Normally, the shelf would be packed with the treats, but they had clearly become much more popular than normal. The shelves were nearly empty, offering only a few boxes in varying flavors. Your eyes scanned what was left, praying to whatever deity you could think of that they had the flavor you so desired.

Just as your eyes landed on the strawberry flake pocky, a large hand shot out, fingers curling around the very last box before pulling it from the shelf. Time seemed to move in slow motion as your eyes trained on the box like a hawk, watching as it was placed into the plastic basket being held by the perpetrator.

The man in question was pretty tall, standing probably around five-foot-nine, and his body was well defined with muscles. You could just barely make out the tattoo of a crow in mid-flight peeking out from the collar of his sweater. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think he was attractive with his messy raven hair and dark brown eyes, but the only thing you could focus on was the fact that he had just taken the last feckin’ box of strawberry flake pocky.

He finally noticed your intense stare, turning his dark eyes to meet yours. “It’s not polite to stare, you know,” he teased, the corner of his lips twitching up.

You scowled at him. “It’s also not polite to steal someone’s pocky!”

His brow quirked at that, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I didn’t steal anything. It was on the shelf, free for anyone to take. Maybe you should have been faster.”

In your tired, annoyed state, you didn’t recognize the teasing tone he was using and took it as a challenge. When he tried to step past you, your hand shot up, palm flat against his chest to push him backward. You resolve faltered for just a moment when you felt his toned chest tensing beneath your hand, but you quickly shook the thoughts from your head. “Give me back my pocky, you jerk!”

His eyes darkened, smile turning to a scowl as he grabbed your wrist to remove your hand from his chest. You could feel how strong he was from the amount of restraint he was showing. If he wanted to, he could easily hurt you, but his grip was soft, just enough to hold you back. “Maybe if you asked nicely I would have considered it, but since you’re being so rude, I’m gonna say no. Have a good night.” He released his grip on your wrist and headed for the front of the store.

Your eyes widened a bit at his words and you realized that you were being a complete jerk. Sure, you could use the lack of sleep and your shitty day as an excuse, but it was just that – an excuse. Shaking your head, you bolted toward the front of the store, intent on apologizing to the man, but he was already gone. You could only stand there feeling like a shitty person for being so rude to a man you had never even met before.

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“Y/N!” Tsuko, your childhood best friend, burst into your dorm room without knocking and, since you were in the middle of erasing a failed equation, you ended up jumping and tearing the page.

You groaned, slamming your face onto the desk. Math was bad enough, but now you had to recopy everything because of the torn page and that did not sound like a good time for you. “How many times do I have to tell you to knock, woman?”

“Sorry~” She giggled, not sounding the least bit sorry. “I have the best news!”

You hummed as you tore the page from the notebook, beginning to re-copy the notes on a fresh, clean one. You were not really interested in whatever gossip she had to offer this time because this was a regular occurrence with her and it was mostly about other student’s relationships.

“Okay, so,” she plopped down on the side of your bed. “I met a guy in class today that knows Anne, you know, the exchange student from the states, who is good friends with Ako, that really cute football scholar in his third year, who heard from Carl, the half-Japanese kid that’s weirdly obsessed with tomatoes, who is best friends with Nia, that girl that was featured in Art Monthly in January, who happens to know -”

You slammed your head back on the desk, the notes completely forgotten as her word vomit swirled in your ears. First off, you didn’t know any of those people and you really didn’t care about them or what incredible thing they had passed along to a million different people. It was like one of those chain games you played as a kid – one person says something before passing it on to another and, by the time it got to the end of the line, it was something completely different from what it once was. “Tsuko, please spare me any further pain and just get to the point.”

She rolled her brown eyes, “You’re so dramatic, Y/N. Anywho, let’s get tattoos!”

“Heh?”

“Nia knows a guy that does tattoos at a discounted price for Karasuno alumni!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “I set us up with an appointment tomorrow afternoon!”

“You -” your eye twitched in annoyance as you looked at her, but your gaze softened when you saw how excited she was. She had always been super into tattoos and had dreamed of getting one since she was thirteen-years-old and her mom married a guy that was covered in them. You were happy she was finally getting one, but why did you have to get one, as well? Sure, you thought tattoos were absolutely gorgeous and you could definitely appreciate an attractive man with them, but you had never actually considered getting one yourself. “I don’t know… What would I even get? Aren’t tattoos supposed to have meaning behind them? It’s not really something you just decide on the fly, you know?”

“That’s true,” she agreed, tapping her chin. “But you really loved your time at Karasuno, right? You said it was the best time of your life! So why not commemorate that with a tattoo?”

You frowned. “Getting the name of a high school tattooed on my body sounds super tacky.”

“Not the name!” She clicked her tongue in annoyance before pulling out her phone. After a few taps, she stood up to thrust the device in your face, showing off various drawings and designs of crows. “You can get the school’s mascot – a crow!”

You hummed as you took her phone, scrolling through the various images she had found on google with a simple search. Some of them did look pretty cool and you had loved your time at Karasuno. Sometimes you even found yourself wishing that you were back in high school when things were so much simpler and easier. The more you thought about the idea, the more you liked it.

“So~, what do you say?” Tsuko clapped her hands together, giving you the best puppy dog eyes she could manage.

“Well,” you answered after a moment’s pause. “I guess I have nothing to lose. Sure, let’s do it.”

“Yes!” She threw her arms around your neck, squeezing you against her chest. “You’re the bestest friend in the world, Y/N!”

You slapped her arms frantically, “Then let me breathe!”

“Oh, oops.” With a giggle, she released you, allowing you to take in a large gulp of air.

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Tsuko parked the car in front of the small tattoo shop nestled between a used bookstore and a fast-food chicken place. This did little to boost your confidence and you grabbed her arm before she could leave the car.

“Are you sure this place is legit? Did you research it? Look up reviews? What’s the -”

“Y/N!” She rolled her eyes. “This place comes highly recommended. Don’t tell me you’re going to chicken out at the last moment.”

“I’m not, I just…”

“Come on, we’re gonna be late for our appointment!”

With a sigh, you climbed out of her car and followed her to the door, glancing up at the bell above the door when it chimed loudly. On either side of the door were metal chairs lined against the class walls. Directly across from the door was an L-shaped desk with a computer on the right and various drawings scattered across its surface. A wall hid the tattooing area, offering a small opening on the left to pass through.

Tsuko stepped up to the counter while you hung back a bit, staying near the door. A moment passed before a tall man with a shaved head appeared in the doorway, covered in head to toe in various tattoo styles, piercings in both ears and on the left side of his bottom lip. He honestly looked terrifying.

His small eyes fell on Tsuko and his face brightened, a streak of red crawling across his face as he practically skipped over to the counter. “Hey, babe! You lookin’ to get a tattoo?”

“We are!” Tsuko chirped, clearly interested in this man even though she had only just met him. “We have an appointment, actually.”

“I gotchu,” he winked, stepping behind the counter to check the computer. “Ah, you two the Karasuno alumni?”

“Yep!”

“Perfect! Come on back and we’ll get to work!”

Tsuko didn’t hesitate to follow him and you sighed, trailing behind as you chewed on your bottom lip. Honestly, you were feeling kind of scared, but you didn’t want your best friend to think bad of you for chickening out, as she called it. How bad could it be, really? You weren’t afraid of needles and your pain tolerance was pretty high, so you were confident that you could make it through. Plus, you’d have a pretty bomb tattoo to show for it.

‘Hopefully,’ you thought as your eyes scanned the framed drawings lining the backroom. ‘These drawings look amazing, but there’s no way to prove that they did these.’

The man led the two of you to one of the plush chairs, motioning with his arms as his eyes stayed trained on your friend. “Have a seat, princess, and I’ll be right with you!”

She giggled in response, falling into the chair with a flushed face.

“As for you,” his eyes fell on you and you swallowed at how darker they got. “Follow me!”

You glanced at your friend, but her eyes were trained on the man’s back, offering you no support as you followed him a few chairs down on the opposite side of the room.

“Have a seat,” he grinned at you before turning toward the back of the room where a lone door sat, cupping his mouth. “Yo, Daichi! You got a customer!”

“Coming!”

You pulled out the folded piece of paper in your pocket that had several printed illustrations of crows in various poses. You had printed it out last night to try and help out the tattooer rather just saying, ‘I want a crow.’

“Hello, my name is Daichi and I’ll be -”

Your eyes met dark ones that widened in time with your own. Standing before you in a tight, black muscle shirt was the man that had taken your pocky the other night. Without any sleeves, you could see the dragon tattoo curling around his left arm, a light pink lotus flower clutched between its claws. On his right bicep was a crow sitting atop a volleyball and, of course, the crow in mid-flight could be seen more clearly on his neck.

Daichi cleared his throat, putting on an obviously forced smile. “I’ll be your tattooist today. What are you looking to get?”

“O-Oh, umm…” You handed him the paper with a shaking hand, unable to look him in the eye. Your face was burning with embarrassment and you were torn on whether or not you should mention what happened that night. You really wanted to apologize, but you weren’t entirely sure how, especially when one wrong word could land you in a world of hurt.

He took the paper, careful not to touch your hand with his as he glanced over the printed designs. “You want a crow?”

“Y-Yeah,” you cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “I really enjoyed my time at Karasuno, so…”

He smiled down at the paper, settling himself on the rolling stool as he grabbed a sketchbook from beneath the counter. “Is there a specific design you want?”

“Not really. Umm… whatever you think would look nice.” You rubbed the back of your neck, glancing at your friend, but neither her nor the other man were paying either of you any mind.

“How about this?” He held up the sketchbook, showing off a small crow in mid-hop, its eyes trained on a butterfly flying above its head. Small feathers were spread out around it. It was such a simple design, but you fell in love the moment you saw it.

“Yes, that looks amazing!”

“Cool. I’ll be right back.” He stood up, tearing the drawing from the book before returning to the room at the back. When he returned, he was carrying a thin piece of paper that he held gently between his fingers. “Where do you want to get it?”

You glanced at the paper, taking note of its small size. “My upper arm?” You lifted the sleeve of the t-shirt on your left arm, looking up at him for approval.

“Can you take your shirt off, please?”

“W-What?” Your cheeks burned at the sudden request.

“The sleeve might get in the way of the tattoo and ruin it. It’s better if it’s not in the way.” Daichi explained, setting the paper on the table beside the chair before setting up the tools.

Swallowing your nerves, you glanced at him before pulling the shirt over your head, holding it across your chest. He didn’t even spare you a glance as he rolled over to your side, slipping his hands into black gloves before cleaning the area where the tattoo would be placed. The stencil was cold as he carefully smoothed it out across your skin, pressing hard to ensure that the ink transferred. When he was satisfied, he slowly peeled it away, the ink stuck to your skin.

Daichi’s dark eyes met yours as he picked up the ink gun. “Are you ready?” You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Remember to breathe and try not to tense up, it’ll make it hurt worse. If it gets too much or you start to feel lightheaded, let me know and we’ll take a break. I’m going to start now.”

“Okay.” Your eyes followed his movements as he clicked on the gun, lowering the needle to your skin. You sucked in a breath at the strange stinging feeling upon your skin, as if you were getting a shot multiple times. You found yourself focusing on the pain and it was making you feel light-headed – you had to distract yourself. “Hey, I uhh… I’m sorry.”

“Hm?” He didn’t glance away from his work, carefully tracing the lines with the needle. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just… the other night in the quick mart…” You chewed on your bottom lip as you searched your brain for the proper words, meeting his dark eyes when he paused his ministrations to glance at you. “I want to apologize. I was such a jerk to you even though I didn’t know you and… I’m sorry.”

Daichi hummed, the corners of his lips twitching up as he returned to the tattoo, his tone teasing. “Are you just apologizing so I won’t mess up your tattoo?”

“What? N-No, that’s not -” You paused when he started laughing, bringing the gun away from your skin so he wouldn’t mess up the tattoo. “You’re teasing me.”

“Yup,” his dark eyes sparkled with amusement. “Don’t worry, I’m not so petty that I’d mark up someone’s skin over something like that. To be honest, I had forgotten all about it until I saw you.”

Seeing him so close to you made your heart pick up speed because he was a really gorgeous man and you adored his laugh. You wanted to get to know him more, so you threw caution to the wind, looking up at him through your lashes. “Can I… make it up to you? Maybe I can buy you some lunch or something.”

“That sounds nice,” he smiled warmly, his eyes lighting up.

“Way to go, Daichi!” The other man waggled his eyebrows as he looked at the two of you, a smirk upon his lips. “And you always yell at me for trying to date the clients!”

Daichi scowled over his shoulder, a light shade of pink coming to his cheeks. “Shut it, Tanaka! Focus on your client.”

“Oh trust me, I am~” Tanaka wiggled his brows again, this time at Tsuko who giggled in response.

“We should go on a double date!” She suggested happily, to which Tanaka nodded enthusiastically.

Daichi sighed, giving you a sheepish look. “You up for a double date?”

You glanced at your best friend and her new love interest before giving him a smile. “Something tells me we don’t have a choice.”

“Definitely not,” he laughed.

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writingkeepsmewhole · 4 years ago

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Tattoos

This is part 4 of Angel Eyes sorry for not posted in ages. But I found this on a flash drive from like 2017 so I edited and thought I should post it. I hope you like it.

Fic Summary: This is backstory to kind help people understand Dean and Callie’s relationship. Sam, Dean and Callie go get tattoos :P

Dean Winchester x OC Claudia

Warnings: Language maybe?

Taglist: Let me know if you want to be tagged. @magssteenkamp @deanwanddamons @lemondropirwin @vicmc624 @lilulo-12 @eternalevie @all-will-be-well-love @akshi8278

Part 1 Part 3

Walking into the bathroom I bent over untying my boots. Kicking them off I stood up and met my green eyes in the mirror. Reaching up to take my hair down I stopped when there was no longer a black string around my wrist. I quickly opened the bathroom door shocking Sam he was behind it and I almost hit him.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked dropping his bags by the door and walking up to me. I was taken back when he grabbed my arms softly as if I was going to pass out.

"I lost my antipossion charm." I say biting my lip.

"You what?" Dean and Sam asked, clearly mad.

"I didn't mean to. It was on my wrist and I guess it must have broke."

"Great, what are we going to do now? I doubt Booby just has another one laying around." Dean asked, throwing up his arm and walking away from me.

"Even if he did, who says she wont lose it again." Sam says sitting on the bed.

"I'm right here, ya know. Maybe it's in the hotel room."

"We just got here. I doubt you lost it in the past five minutes." Sam said.

"Well it's not like I can just tattoo the thing to me." I said throwing up my arms and moving to the door shutting it, probably a little too rough., but I hate being treated like I'm five.

"Wait a minute." Dean says, making me turn to face him.

"Why not get it tattooed. It would get rid of having to keep up with it. And plus its one sure way, no demon would ever get into us ever again."

"That's not a bad idea." I say agreeing. "I always wanted to get a tattoo anyways." I say shrugging.

"And what if I don't." Sam says standing up.

"Oh come on Sammy it's common sense, to get one." Dean says lifting his hands.

"Yeah, it's the smart thing to do." I say smiling, getting butterflies about the thought of getting tattooed.

"Oh and what are we meant to tell the person that does it?" Sam asks.

"The truth. It looks like some tribal tattoo that people walk around with all the time. The worse case they think we are weirdos but there still going to do it." I say sitting down beside Dean on the bed.

"Callie is right, money is money. They don't care as long as they get paid."

"What if they only take cash?"

Sighing I throw my head back hitting Dean's shoulder.

"Then we go to the bar, play a little pool and go back. With cash. Why are you so against getting a tattoo?" I ask

"Yeah, Sammy it can be on your ass for all I care." Dean says laying back on the bed's headboard making me fall, sence I was still leaning on him.

Glaring up at him I sat back up, only getting a small laugh out of him.

"How do we even know it will work?"

Sighing again I laid back on Dean's legs reaching back to grab my phone off the nightstand. Flipping it open I pressed 3 it calling Bobby.

"Callie, it's 1AM what the hell do you want?" Bobby answered sound sleepy and mad.

"Sorry Bobby. I didn't realize it was so late but I have a important question."

"About what?" He said trying to be helpful but not hiding his anger.

"The charms you gave us. If we tattoo the symbol to ourselves will that work the same as wearing them?"

"What kind of idjit are you? Of course it will work. Next time you decide to bother me while I'm sleeping make sure it's a damn good question."

"Sorry Bobby, just wanted to make sure."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I'll let you go back to sleep. Good night Bobby. Sweet Dreams."

"Yeah, I'll bet." He says hanging up.

"He is mean when he is sleepy." I say looking up at Dean as I close my phone.

"What did he say?" Sam asked.

"Looks like your getting inked up, buttercup." I say smiling at him.

Sighing, he clenched his jaw.

"I'll be in the car. Hurry up." He says walking out to the car grabbing his jacket as he went.

"I think he needs a nap. He is a little grumpy." I say looking back up at Dean.

"I think you're right. Better not keep him waiting." He says smiling, clearly enjoying this as much as me.

Sitting up I walk to the bathroom grabbing my shoes and sitting on the tub to put them back on.

"Where do you think I should get it?" Dean asked leaning against the door frame to the bathroom.

Looking up at the ceiling I bit my lip, thinking of where a tattoo would look good on Dean. The first thing was anywhere. Shaking away that thought. I thought of where I like tattoos on guys.

"Hmm... Shoulder, shoulder blade, or chest." I say tying my boot and pulling on the other one.

"What about you. Where are you going to get it?"

"I don't know. I don't want it super viable. Like I don't want to have to worry about people being like what's that?"

"I think you should get it on your ribs." Dean says as I finish tying the other boot.

"Why the ribs. That's the worse place to get a tattoo." I say standing up and walking out of the bathroom, feeling Dean follow me.

"Well one because it's hot and two I know you can take the pain." He says making blood rush to my cheeks.

"Is that so?" I ask turning to face him, a smirk finding my lips.

I almost smack myself for how flirty that sounds but it's hard not to when you have Dean in front of you.

"Yeah. You're kinda a badass." He says smirking and winking at me.

I laugh softly, him joining me. Rolling my eyes I shake my head a little.

"Maybe." I say walking to the door, stepping out into a soft sprinkle.

"Rain!" I say smiling up at the sky loving the cool drops on my heated cheeks.

"What was about not being five?" Dean asked behind me and pinched my side, making me jerk a little.

"Shut up." I say sticking my tongue out at him, earning a laugh.

I jump when Baby's horn goes off. Looking at Dean's price postion I see Sam sitting in the front seat looking like a parent who just cought his child having sex.

"Again, I repeat, grumpy." I say looking back at Dean and stepping off the curb to get into the car.

"Why not bug him a little more." Dean says opening the driver door for me.

Taking the hint I get in and move to the middle, Sam clenching his jaw making me laugh.

"Oh don't be so grumpy. It's only a little seat sharing." I say poking his hard jaw.

"Just can we get this over with?"

"Damn Sam, Bobby is not the only one that’s mean when he is tired." Dean says starting the car backing out.

"I just want to get this done so I can take a shower and get a few hours in before I have to get up in the morning."

"Hey, you're the one who wants to run before dawn." I say shrugging.

One look from Sam is enough to make me shut up and hold up my hands as a surender. I lean into Dean to get away from Sam before he bursts a blood vessel. Feeling bad for now getting up front, for wanting to bug him more.

Maybe feeling the same or seeing Sam's face. Dean lays his arm over my shoulders and pulls me closer to him, giving Sam as much space as he can get with all of us up front. Leaning into Dean's side I close my eyes and just listen to the rain picking up and hitting the Impala's roof. Moving his arm down, I shift slightly laying my head on Dean's shoulder, feeling completely relaxed. No not relaxed. At home.

When Dean's neck starts vibrating with him humming I let myself enjoy it till the point of my eyes don't want to stay open anymore.

I softly smack Dean's chest, making him stop.

"What was that for?" He asks sounding shocked.

"You're making me fall asleep." I say a yawn leaving my mouth, making a laugh leave Dean's.

"Dean, maybe we should go back to the motel. Let Callie sleep."

"Oh your not getting out of this that easy, buttercup." I say sitting up and looking at him, making me slightly dizzy but I ignore it, it fading quickly.

"Yeah, because we are here." Dean says pulling into the parking lot of a tattoo and piercing shop.

Getting out of the car, I quickly follow Dean to escape the picking up rain.

"Welcome. What can I do for you?" Asks the tattooed bearded main at the front desk.

"Hi, we're looking to get a tattoo. We heard this was the place to come." Dean says, making the man laugh.

"Well that'll be right. I'm Chet, nice to meet you." Chet says holding out his hand to Dean.

"Dean." He says taking it.

"And you Miss?" He asks looking down at me.

"Callie." I say waving and smiling.

"And the tall fella?" He asks looking over me at Sam.

"Oh that sour thing is my little brother Sammy. Sammy come say hi." Dean says waving him over.

"It's Sam." He says holding his hand out to Chet.

"Well, nice to meet you folks. So like I said before, what can I do for you?"

"We all three want this." Sam says handing Chet a piece of paper with the simbel roughly graw on it.

"You draw this yourself?" Chet asks, taking the picture and looking down at it stroking his beard.

"Yeah, I did. Look, not to be rude, but can we hurry this up I would really like to get some sleep." Sam says, looking tired.

"Well just slow down there a minute." Chet says not even the least bit surprised with Sam's mood.

"How big are you three talking? Because if you want something huge It's going to be more than one trip. Plus you have how are you going to pay and where you want it at."

"No bigger than three inches." I say getting an agreement from both the boys.

"Altight. That will be 75 each. That's without color."

"You take credit?" Dean asks.

"Yes, sir we do."

"Well, let's do this." Dean says, pulling out his wallet and handing him his card.

I'm a little surprised when he doesn't look at it or ask for ID.

"Alright, well let me go draw this up and you three can talk about where you want it and who goes first." Chet says taking the picture Sam drew and walking in the back.

"Sam you can go first." I say sitting on one of the black leather couches, Dean sitting beside me.

"Why do I go first?" Sam asks sitting in a plastic chair across from us.

"Because you won't have to wait you can go out and sleep in the car while we get ours done." I say like it's obvious.

"Okay sure, whatever."

"Man he really is tired." Dean says laying his arm on the back of the couch.

"Yeah, well it will be over soon and we will never have to worry about it again." I say smiling up at Dean, because I would probably just get a glare from Sam.

On the note I could feel his death glaze burn a hole in my head.

"So did you decide where you are going to get yours?" I ask, whoever wants to answer.

"I'm working on it." Dean says winking at me, making me roll my eyes.

"What about you Clauda?" Sam asks

"Still thinking." I say biting my trying to think of where would be the best place.

All three of us fall into a comfortable silence waiting on Chet. He returns around thirty minutes later.

"Alright I got everything all set up. So who is going first."

Both me and Dean pont to Sam.

"Alright, son, follow me back." Chet says holding the beads hanging over the door out of Sam's way.

"Be nice!" I say getting a Yeah, Yeah and a wave from him.

Chet laughs and walks thru the door with Sam in front of him.

"So, you really don't know where you are getting yours?" Dean asks looking down at me.

"No, everywhere I think don't seem right." I say biting my lip.

"I have an idea." Dean says.

"Oh gosh." I say covering my face, slightly worried.

"Well at least hear me out first."

"Okay fine, fine. What is your idea?" I ask, looking up at Dean to meet bright green eyes.

"You pick for me and I pick for you." He says shrugging.

"That way if we can get an outsider's thoughts on it."

Smiling, I nod my head.

"You know I really like that." I say, saying exactly how I felt.

"See and you didn't trust me."

"Oh, I trust you. I trust you get me into trouble by putting it on my forehead."

Laughing Dean ran his hand down his face.

"I was thinking more your cheek but if that's what you want to go with, its your face darlin'.'' He says pulling me closer to him and tickling me softly.

Giggling I push his hands away, just as Chet and Sam walk out.

"Well that was fast." Dean says, sounding halfway disappointed.

"Yeah, I'll be out in the car." Sam says doing just that.

"Alright who's next."

"Me!" I say standing up and walking over to Chet.

"You gonna bring your boyfriend with you?" Chet asks nodding at Dean.

Blushing at the boyfriend comment, I ignore it and turn to face Dean feeling dumb since he is picking the spot for the tattoo.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" I say running to him and grabbing his forearm just to pull him up from his seat.

I hear Chet laugh behind us making me wonder exactly what life he thinks we have.

Following him back into the other room, Dean laces his fingers with mine making me smile up at him. He quickly returns it making my stomach do flips.

"Room three." Chet gestures to the last door.

Dean quickly takes the lead pulling me behind him. When we step into the room I can help the rush I get when I see the chair with the gun beside it.

"You okay?" Dean asks looking down at me.

"Yeah, why?" I ask, confused as why he would ask that.

LIfting our joined hands he lets go to show me how my hand is shaking.

"Oh. They're the good kind. Here feel my heart." I say taking his hand and placing it to my chest before I can think.

Realizing what I did I feel myself blush a little but I keep his hand there. He is my "boyfriend" after all.

Smiling Dean moves his hand up to my neck, pulling me to him to kiss my forehead.

"One hell of an adrenaline rush huh?" Dean asks moving so Chet can get to his spot beside the chair.

"So do we know where we want it?" Chst asks when he sets down.

"He does." I say pointing to Dean and moving back a little.

"Oh, alright what'll it be son?" He asks looking up at Dean.

"She wants it on her rib. Here." Dean says placing his hand on my right side just under my bra strap.

"And you're okay with that?" Chet asks looking at me, making eye contact. I guess to see if I’m lying.

"Yes, it's perfect." I say telling the truth.

Feeling all at once how I could not picture it anywhere else.

"Alright well take a seat, I'll fix the chair once you're on it. Dean there is a stool in the hall if you want to grab it so you have somewhere to sit."

"Alright." He says walking out of the room quickly returning since the stool was just outside the door.

"Is this your first tattoo?" Chet asked, fixing the chair so he could reach my rib easily.

"Yep." I say popping the P getting comfortable on my left side.

"Well let me tell you it's going to hurt a lot."

"She can take it." Dean says sitting on the stool my face becoming even with his belly.

"Well just let me know if you need to take a break. Don't worry though I got 20 years under my belt. Or should I say gun. You’re in good hands."

"Thanks Chet." I say smiling at him and laying my head on my left arm, my other one laying in front of me.

"Lift your shirt for me please." Chet says.

“I got it." Dean says before I can even move. Pulling my shirt up I feel as if it's in slow motion but maybe that's just because I'm suddenly very aware of how many scars I have on my stomach and hips.

I realize that it's not Dean seeing them, it's Chet. I can hear the questions now. But they never come. Instead I feel something like paper being stuck to my sink.

"So you from around here?" Chet asked, one of us.

"No. Road trip. She got it in her head that we all should get tattoos."

"Hey! It's for a good reason." I say sticking my tongue out at Dean even though he is not eye level with me. Well he is never eye level with me.

"About that if you don’t mind me asking. Your brother said something about it being in the family. He didn't make much since. He was not in a chatty mood.

"Yeah, it's been in his family for years. All the way back to the tribes. The people believed that it could keep you from getting posed." I say smiling a “what the hell smile”.

"Oh thats a new one."

"Yeah, but like I said she got it in her head. So it had to be done. But at the end of the day it's a badass tattoo."

"That it is." Chet said starting up the gun making a buzz fill the room.

"Ready?" He asked from behind me.

"Ready." I say as Dean seems to shrink down to my level. Him pulling the lever on the bottom of the stool. He still has to bend down a little to be eye to eye with me but that's better than nothing.

When the needle of the gun first touched my skin it felt like I was being punched so hard it made my ribs brake. Groning I clenched my jaw and grabbed onto the nearest thing which happened to be Dean's forearm.

"Are you okay?" Chet asked, pulling the gun from me.

"Yes" I say closing my eyes and groaning again.

"Man that hurts worse than getting sticked up." I say taking a deep breath thru my nose and blowing it out of my mouth.

"Should I keep going?"

"Yeah, keep going." I say moving my hand to Dean's.

Feeling the pain again I bit my lip so I didn't make a noise. It still hurts but this time I knew what to expect. It felt like someone was digging a white hot nail down my side.

After a minute it slowly turned into a dull pain as my skin in that spot went numb.

"Dean is it?"

"Yeah." Dean says pushing my raven hair off my face.

"You got a keeper. Never have I ever seen a first timer get a tattoo on their ribs and be this quiet or still."

"Yeah, she is good at that."

Laughing I moved my right arm over my head and looked down as best as I could watching Chet wipe away ink from my side.

Smiling at the butterflies again I laid my arm back down. Dean laying his hand on the back of mine lacing his fingers through mine.

"That scar on her hip. I walked in on her sewing it up herself." Dean said, sounding almost like he was bragging.

"Yeah and you should have heard the ear full I go for it." I say, smiling softly, my eyes closed.

It seemed to help with the pain, the less I talked. So that's what I didn't do. I lay there listening to Dean and Chet talk about me and what happened so I had to get sewn up. Dean came up with the lie that I was a nurse in afghanistan. That's where we met, that's where the scar he was talking about came from. If only it was that noble. When really it came from breaking up a bar fight between Dean and some dude hitting on me very, very hard. To the point I almost stabbed him. Dean did walk in on me sowing up and I did get an ear full. But it was not just him telling me how I should not have tried to break up the fight. Or sow myself up.

It had a mix of the crystal green his eyes get when he is hurting. It didn't take two glances to see that he was mad at himself more than me. He thought it was his fault.

Always dose.

"Callie you alright?" Dean asks, making me open my eyes and look up at him, a yawn leaving my mouth.

"Well I guess that answers my question." Chet said laughing.

"What?"

"I thought you passed out of something. I told him you were fine but he wanted to be sure."

"No, yeah, I'm okay. Just listening to you talk. Your voice is relaxing." I say smiling up at him, making him scratch the back of his head telling me I embarrassed him which didn't happen often.

"Well you're halfway done. So finish your nap." Dean says, trying to laugh it off.

"Thanks." I say smiling and closing my eyes.

Lucky me Chet started another conversation with Dean about what all he has hunted.

He went on about telling him something about a bear which I think was one of the werewolves we have killed or maybe a windigo.

"Alright, you are done." Chet said, turning off everything.

"Can I see?" I ask sitting up a little. An ache in my side.

"Let me clean you up first."

Nodding I layed back on the chair and poked Dean's chest making him look down at me.

"How's it look?"

"You'll like it." He says smirking down at me.

"I better." I say sticking my tongue out at him.

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pridesobright · 5 years ago

Note

If you’re up for it, what artist or painting do each of the boys remind you of?

disclaimer: art is subjective, so are people’s opinions, and my choices are based on my perception of the boys’ personalities. you may not agree with me, therefore the paintings might not correspond to what you had imagined… still, i tried to shed a light on my own thoughts, which is something i rarely do on tumblr — i tried to remain as objective and positive as possible!

+ louis —

louis is so fiercely good! supportive, loyal, brave… i’ve never seen someone so witty and intelligent, caring and sensitive. louis shines, louis sparkles!!

but he also tells stories like no else. it is truly fascinating how louis can turn the smallest life experiences into masterpieces!! the raw emotions he’s able to convey in just a sentence: we’re sleeping on our problems like we’ll solve them in our dreams…. it’s easy getting lost into louis’ ocean blue eyes but it’s even easier falling for his talent — through storytelling, louis always shares a positive message and i’m in awe of the way he goes through life despite everything that’s been thrown at him. passionate and driven, louis is authentic and unapologetically himself!

i decided to associate louis with gustav klimt — the artist received a conservative and classical training and began his career painting churches and theaters, following the traditional and historical style popular at the time. quite similar to louis’ mindset at the start of his solo career, klimt focused on what the upper class expected of him! however, he kept developing a more meaningful personal style. one that relied on symbolism and the extensive use of the ornamental gold leaf. his paintings were highly decorative and it is the aesthetic of klimt’s work that made the connection so easy ♡

gustav klimt painted many women in erotic positions, embracing their nudity and a celebration of sexuality, which was controversial at the time. but more than that, the artist depicted loving embraces, abandonment and passion. tenderness. and by coating his paintings in golden powder, klimt created a warm cocoon around his subjects! 1. adele bloch-bauer I - 2. judith I (details) - 3. le baiser (details)

louis is so often associated with the color yellow and it’s easy to understand why — yellow is the most luminous color and is the symbol of happiness, optimism and enlightenment. as a warm color, yellow represents light and creates a sense of hope: it is radiant! gold shares many of the same attributes. it is bright, cheerful and is often associated with love, courage and passion. gold illuminates our world and so does louis!

+ zayn —

zayn is very creative, expressive and imaginative. i’d say he’s cautious and overall very intelligent about his privacy! society will often describe quiet people as mysterious, and it romanticizes anxiety in a way that makes my blood boils… it’s a dangerous culture where people with mental disorders are seen as edgy or cool when in reality they are deeply misunderstood. at times defensive, i believe zayn is strong-willed and values his freedom more than anything!

associating zayn with street art was a given. is there anything more liberating than leaving your trace into the world, anonymously and illegally, without knowing if your work will be painted over in the next few days or a couple of years?

artists such as roa, bansky, kobra, invader or shepard fairey have now made a huge impact, and street art has been popularized. many paintings are known worldwide but before then, you had the travel the world to seek out the artists’ works!

and even if some murals can be seen from afar, they draw you in no matter what. like an invisible pull, some are forcing you to cross the street or climb a few stairs to get closer — zayn draws you in! whether people are affected by his quiet personality, his looks or the sheer quality of his voice, you can’t help but want to learn more about him!

i chose behind the curtain by martin whatson for that very reason! at first cold and unreachable, zayn is full of qualities and life experiences deserving to be uncovered.

martin whatson is a stencil artist working in oslo. looking for beauty in decayed and abandoned urban spaces, he developed his style using grey tones as a basis and adding vibrant colours to bring a splash of life. i also love pull back and behind the wall ♡

+ niall —

to me, niall is the type of person who’s enjoying life as best as he can, and fully appreciating everything there is to offer. whether it be passion, irritation, love, fun or distress. mainly because of his cheerful and bubbly personality, he’s seemingly going through life as if it was a big fest! but don’t be fooled, he knows heartbreak too and there’s more to him!!

niall’s albums feel warm, nostalgic and intimate. we’re being let in into a part of him without any flourishes. a melody strummed on his guitar and here we are, transported into the past and reminiscing about an old lover. niall definitely is a romantic! listening to heartbreak weather, there is so much tenderness into his songs…

this painting is called manège de cochons by robert delaunay — it is part of a series devoted to modern urban life and popular shows. carried away by a whirlwind of vibrant colors, it recreates the lively atmosphere of the fairgrounds.

it definitely represents niall and his complex mind. the colors, so vibrant, are an ode to his cheerfulness. for delaunay, primary colors and their complements exalt each other by contrast. and the same tone can be perceived differently depending on its intensity or its arrangement!

at first, only the vibrancy and the warmth shine through but just like everyone else’s, niall’s mind is intricate. his emotions are raw and he puts his pain into songs, as if to compartmentalize everything. as if to tame those feelings and memories, maybe too loud at times! the colors aren’t just splash of nuances scattered across the canvas, they are deliberate. with purpose, they tell a story…

+ liam —

liam is good! and he always goes out of his way to do something good. he often tries to be more mindful of his actions. he’s constantly learning and just like everyone else liam makes mistakes, but he actively grows from them!!

liam is extremely talented, funny and charismatic, yet i feel like he’s not easily understood. he’s a very sensitive, sincere and sweet person, and despite everything liam went through, he remains cheerful, generous and courageous!

he is also passionate and pursues many hobbies — be it fashion, art, cooking or comics: he is well-versed in many topics and it’s a real pleasure to now follow him on youtube!!

robert rauschenberg was passionate about many mediums himself, and he incorporated newspapers, photographs and even some objects (undershirt, parasol parts) onto the canvas before adding broad strokes of paint! he kept exploring the boundaries of art and closely followed the current events of the time, using images of space flight and NASA’s photographs into his work — space (tribute 21) is a personal favorite ♡

i actually picked a selection of artworks to match liam’s personality: 1. untitled (red painting) - 2. untitled (red painting) - 3. red interior. i particularly love that last one, as the far-right stripe reminds me of liam’s chevron tattoo!!

for many years now, liam has been associated with red and it’s no surprise at all — red is the color of passionate love, seduction and adventure. strength, vitality and ambition. it used to be seen as the color of fire, a primal life force. to the greeks, red symbolized super-human heroism. liam is a force of nature, strong both physically and mentally. he is hard-working and energetic!

+ harry —

forget about the way harry has been portrayed ever since he was a sixteen-year-old boy. forget about the curls and the dimples. simply observe the person harry is today. take a closer look at what he decides to share with us. pay attention to the way he’s presenting himself.

fine line (the album) takes us on an introspective journey into his deepest emotions — whether it be torment or happiness. and i think it’s fascinating how well-executed his songs are! even in a catchy and happy song such as golden, harry managed to address quite a raw and painful concept: i’m hopeless, broken, so you wait for me in the sky / i don’t want to be alone — it’s heartbreaking, yet you almost wished you could feel it too!

through various allegories and metaphors, harry makes you question yourself. he interrogates you and talks about a reality you didn’t know existed or could relate to. harry is magnetic.

this painting is called composition XI by vassily kandinsky — and i can’t help but compare both harry and vassily. kandinsky was a painter, professor, poet and art theorist, generally credited as the pioneer of abstract art! he spent years creating sensorially rich paintings, and was fascinated by musicians who could evoke images in listeners’ minds. he strove to work with forms and colors that alluded to sounds and emotions!!

in songs like fine line, the music swells and deflates as if it was a beating heart. each track conveys a different emotion and translates a distinct concept! through his melodies, harry aims to make us feel joy, melancholy, determination or bitterness, even when the lyrics are anything but. his albums leave us speechless and wondering, just like abstract art!

+ overall, this is what art is meant to make you feel! it’s supposed to challenge you. art is meant to make you rethink your boundaries and open up your mind. it’s meant to question you and leave you wanting for more! you are meant to listen to a song several times to fully understand its meaning, and meant to stand in front of a painting for hours to start grasping the artist’s thought process…

yet art remains subjective! depending on your own life experiences and upbringing. art is free for you to interpret as you wish and so is music! i hope you enjoyed this post, thank you for reading it ♡

#have i spent way too much time on this? YES #did i turn the ask into an essay?? YES #i hope at least a few people will be interested in this #and as i said in the disclaimer: those are MY opinions #i hope you're still around there anon ♡#jess parle à la lune #jess répond

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slashingdisneypasta · 5 years ago

Note

Can i get a hoyt x reader smut pls...(this message was brought to u by an awkward ass person)

This is what the Hoyt x Wife!Reader on my other blog was supposed to be but at that point I was still felt iffy about writing smut but as I have unlocked it now, we can do this ^^ I hope you like it!

Warnings: Super smutty, guys. Angry sex, course language (Terrible language). Also, this is Hoyt so he will say some horrible things. Suggested rape, etc. Not fluffy

Smut under the cut of course.

You know what? I think, weeks after the transformation. I’ve tried everything to get this man’s attention back from himself, and I’m his wife, so it shouldn’t be so hard.

But the only times he looks at me, pays me any mind, is when he’s pissed or he’s playing boss. And I just want him to look at me like Charlie, like my husband.

So, fine, Hoyt. We’ll do it your way.

By making you really, really mad. Then you’ll look at me, wont you?

It’s been weeks since my husband went missing. And in his place was left a sorry, evil pantomime in uniform called Sheriff Hoyt.

God, he thinks he’s cool in that uniform. Even though the hat looks goofy as hell, and gives him hat hair. Anger stirs in my chest just thinking about my dilemma. I can’t get through to the dumbass bastard wearing Charlies tattoo’s and sleeping in his bed. My bed. Glancing spitefully at him across from me at the dinner table, I consider kicking him like I did, ‘accidentally’ in the middle of the night last night. He was deeply asleep, snoring and dreaming and I found it wholly unfair that he got to rest like that and I was still up, confined by myself to the left side of the bed away from him, and had just done it. Totally bitterly, but it felt good.

Luckily, he believed me when I said I had had a nightmare and sleep kicked, but alas. I don’t think that excuse will work here.

I’m just, immaturely wondering how I can aim a piece of lettuce at his face and blame it on arthritis when Luda Mae starts up a conversation for the table, successfully causing me too look up her instead of darkly at my fork. I must have really been looking darkly at my fork, too, because Luda Mae looks pointedly at me as if she knows what I was thinking and Monty, beside me subtly shakes his head at me. I look at Thomas and Hoyt, next, and luckily neither of them were paying much attention.

Sighing in defeat, I turn my attention to the conversation, turning my knees slightly to face Luda Mae and Monty. “I don’t really have plans tomorrow, thanks! Monty and I were thinking about chess, since its been a while, but… “I shrug, looking pleasantly at her and trying to ignore the fiery fury still beating in my chest.

The effort becomes redundant when Hoyt speaks up and I can no longer keep it at bay. “Well, you won’t be doing that.” I watch him chew for a moment, feeling my rage levels rise dangerously high seeing him not even lift his head when he’s trying to control me. This is 2003, Sheriff! Not the freaken middle ages, I don’t obey you!

“Actually, yes.” I spit, venomously, looking straight at his forehead and just daring him to look up back at me. I drop my fork with a clatter, and get half the way out of my seat, alerting Thomas that something out of the ordinary is happening. “We will be. In fact, Uncle Monty, let’s go play right now- “

He raises his head to dare an connect eye contact with me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?? Sit back down, we’re eating a fucking dinner.”

“I’m not hungry anymore.” I revel in the furious way he looks at me. It’s better than being ignored, anyway. I may have gone insane, but it feels really good to make ‘Sheriff Hoyt’ feel that way. I get the rest of the way out of my seat and nod with a smile to Luda Mae. “Thanks for dinner, Luda. Goodnight everyone- except you, Charlie!” He’ll have a bad night, because either he’s going to going to get a crick in his back from sleeping on the couch to avoid my crazy ass, or I’m not going to let him get any sleep in our room.

“You call me Hoyt, woman- Argh.” As I disappear up the stairs to our room, I hear Hoyt shout after me and realise I’m not listening, and drop his own fork in favour of violently pushing off the table and after me. I faintly hear Luda Mae sigh and say something shamelessly about kicking us out of her home. I throw the bedroom door open and barge in, slamming it spitefully behind me so Hoyt has to open it himself.

When he does, I’m sitting curtly, stiffly in the armchair by his side of the bed with a book tight in my hands, knuckles white from anger. He looks frustratedly as hell at me and points vaguely toward the dining room. “The fuck was that??”

“Nothing,” I hiss, acting uncooperative on purpose. “What are you talking about?”

“You know goddamn well what I’m talking about, Y/N.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to fight in front of them.”

“Why are we fighting in the first place? I’m lost as fuck, and you need to catch me up.” He looks at me with his hands on his hips and his eyebrows raised all the way up his forehead, frustratingly expectant.

I’m tempted to give him more lip and say that no, I don’t need to catch him up. In fact, I’d love to leave him in the dark and just go to bed. It would drive him mad, and make me feel a thousand times better, but I figure my immaturity has reached its pique for the night. Instead, I try to relax my shoulders and my fingers and look up, seriously at Hoyt. More level-headed. “I miss Charlie.” He looks irritated immediately, and sighs deeply, looking around the room like a huge eyeroll with his head. When he stills again, he’s cleaning the bottom set of teeth with his tongue, squinting one eye at me. Hands still on his hips, patronising me. Oooh, how I’d love to smack that look off his face. But, I’m elegant.

… ignoring the kicking him in the middle of the night and the attempt I made on him at dinner with the lettuce.

“Y/N, Charlie’s dead. We’ve been through this. When are you gonna get it through your head- “

“Well then I want a divorce!” I exclaim, getting up from the chair. His eyes darken, but the corner of his lips quirk up, and shakes his head. Calming down, he pulls the stupid hat off his head and runs a hand through his hair to fix it, turning his back on me and turning to start getting ready for bed.

“Don’t interrupt a man of the law when he’s talking, darling, and no. You don’t.”

That’s rich! He can sure parade himself around like a real sheriff with victims if he likes but that is a moot point, with family. “Man of the law?? Man of the la- You’re a murdering cannibal!”

“So’s Tommy, gonna get mad at him?”

“I’m not married to Tommy.” I watch his movements, heart sinking. Is he losing interest again? It’s a weird feeling, wanting the argument to be over but simultaneously being afraid it is. “And you made him that way.”

“Yeah? Well, this households never been better.”

Oh. No, that’s it. I drop the book down on the bed, nearly flinging it actually, and cross the room in 2 fast steps to slap him.

He… he grabs my wrist before I can. “Goddamnit, let go of me. Bastard.” Slowly, I look across from his hand on my wrist to his face, or more specifically his eyes. They twitch, like he’s thinking, and I watch as he looks from my eyes to the rest of me. Assessing the situation with self-taught reliability.

“Honey,” His voice is dark now, familiarly husky and terrifying. Well, to anyone but me it might be terrifying. “You weren’t about to do what I think you were,” He lifts his chin and looks down at me. He raises his eyebrows. “Were you?”

If he thinks he’s scaring me he really is an idiot. I straighten myself, squaring up. “I sure was.”

“Now, see. That won’t work for me.”

“Well, then. To the couch with y- “The rude ass bastard cuts off my sentence, with his mouth on mine and strong, greedy fingers scraping at my waist. It takes me 2 seconds to think about, decide and agree to the new medium for my anger, and part my lips hungrily for a deeper connection to curb my anger at him but he pulls back and sets my face with a mischievous look like he thinks he’s in control here. I narrow my eyes. “What?”

“I’m gonna show you who’s wife you are. Its been too long.”

One, that’s not my fault. Two, “Shut up.”

“Gladly.” He growls, and puts his mouth on mine again, drawing a begrudgingly salacious moan from me. What? Its been a long time, since my husband has touched me. To further things situation-wise, I tilt my head slowly to the side against him and tug him closer by the front of his uniform. Hoyt can’t help himself, can’t just stand and kiss me for a few minutes before taking more, and I know it because I feel his fingers creep up my sides, under my shirt and god are they hot. How his skin stays so warm all the time, I have no idea, but as long as it serves me, I don’t care. They feel really good inside me, and oh. They will be inside me before this is over and the bastards out of kick.

Switching tact, because I can’t say I don’t want more then this also -you can’t be married to a pervert like him for as long as I have and be happy with just some kisses when you can have more,- , I turn him around and push him, not at all carefully onto the bed. Honestly, if he falls off, I don’t mind.

He doesn’t, but he does sit up immediately on the edge, knees apart and yanks me down by the arm to him again, causing a yelp to come from me. “You- “A weirdly soft kiss is put on my lips, before the look in his eyes turns completely dark and puts my hand on the tent in his pants. “Feels good.” I tell him, then let go and make like I’m going to leave.

“Oh no you don’t- “He yanks me back and onto the bed, shut me in with his body. I shift, to get comfortable, but get distracted by the way he’s looking at me. “Hmmm,” Looking me over, a lude grin finds its way to his mouth. “I would force your pretty mouth over my cock, darling, god knows you’re good at that, don’t we. But, later. Right now, I’m gonna screw you, my Y/N.” Momentarily slipping in my resolve, I lean into his touch when he strokes the side of my face, twisting some of my hair around a finger.

Ughhhh, fuck! What was it, the rape threat or the basically calling me a whore that did that to you, Y/N? Fucks sake. Let’s just do this. Get your head in the game, Y/N. “Shut up Charlie, fuck me.”

He chuckles and buckles his belt. “Yes ma’am.” Avoiding his eyes and feeling slick and impatient, I undo my own bottoms and wriggle out of them. With a final sigh, and a squish sound, Hoyt fills me up in one satisfying thrust. “Ohhh,” A stutter groan escapes him, before he berries his face in my neck and hides there. I, on the other hand, am a dangerous, mewling mess under him. Having his stiff, thick cock sinking into me feels a wicked kind of heaven. Familiar of a better time, yet wrong. Mostly though just really, really pleasureful.

I lay there with my mouth half open, breathy moans coming out of me as a arch, and frustratedly meet him at every thrust. It’s not enough! “It’s not enou- oh~” As I tried to talk, his hand traced down my body and touched my clit, began rubbing to add to the pleasure. “Oh my god, that’ll do. Ahh,”

Against my neck, he chuckles breathily. The hand not on my clit come up, and wraps around my throat. Doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t hurt. Just holds it, enough to feel my pulse.

As the knot in more core pleasure becomes unbearable, my breaths become short and I get so close to orgasming all over the shaft between my folds. Desperate for more, I wrap my calf’s around him and pull myself as flush to his pelvis as possible in one last, delicious buck. A deep, guttural groan escapes him and when I squeeze my walls around him, he explodes.

The hot cum, just his fingers explodes in me and that does me in. With a slow slide off of him and back down onto the bed, unlocking my legs from him, I sigh and cum in climax, feeling exhausted.

That was the most, frantic exercises I’ve done weeks, of course I’m tired. I watch him sigh, and stand back up. Bluffing me and trying to make me think he isn’t just as tired as he tucks himself away and buttons his pants back up. “Sweetheart, thank you… You stay here and rest up. I’ll be back.”

“Uhuh… “ I sigh, ready to take a nap.

“You look beautiful like that.”

“Go get us new sheets, Hoyt.”

“I love you, too.”

#Smut #Sheriff Hoyt #Charlie Hewitt #Request

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

Torn (Biadore) - Whiskey Neat

A/N: the Biadore drought was killing me so I had to write something. Enjoy!

She really did it this time. All Adore wanted was to have a glass of wine and relax on the couch while she waited for Bianca to come home, but she had gotten distracted by a beautiful sparkling dress that she noticed through the cracked open door of Bianca’s sewing room. The way the light reflected off the sequins and gems scattered around the fabric was enough to draw her fully into the room.

“This must be the super expensive one she told me about” Adore thought to herself as she ran her tattooed fingers over the dark fabric. God, it was beautiful. Possibly the most beautiful garment Adore had ever seen.

After picking it up and holding it against herself in the mirror, she twirled around, loving the way the dress flowed in the breeze. It would be a crime to not try it on, she thought. Bianca didn’t have to know, right?

To Adore’s dismay, moments later she discovered that she had been bluntly WRONG. The ripping sound that came from the dress as she pulled it up over her waist was enough to make her heart stop.

“Fuck” she whispered to herself, squeezing her eyes shut and willing herself not to panic.

Hesitantly, she turned towards the mirror and opened her eyes to examine the damage. Right below the zipper was large tear, splitting the dress a few inches farther than the zipper intended.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! What do I do?!” Adore exclaimed to the empty room, shimmying out of the garment as carefully as possible. She put her own clothes back on and paced back and forth, running her hands through her messy blonde hair.

“The sewing machine!” Her brain reasoned,momentarily forgetting the fact that she didn’t know how to use it.

She rushed over to the small machine on the table and turned it on. Unfortunately, that was the only thing she remembered how to do from her short sewing lesson with Bianca last year.

“I’m so fucked” she groaned, falling into the chair.

As if on cue, she heard the front door slam and her body prepared itself for her second heart attack of the day. Bianca was home and she was going to kill her.

She considered hiding the dress, or putting it back where she found it and letting Bianca discover the tear sometime when Adore would hopefully be far far away from here. But Adore was terrible at keeping secrets and she new Bianca would immediately sense that she was hiding something.

“Adore? Can you come help me with these bags? Today was awful and I’m fucking exhausted.” Bianca’s gravely voice called.

“One second!” Adore called back, panicking even more now that she knew Bianca’s day hadn’t gone well. Bianca was clearly already irritated and Adore was about to make it 10 times worse.

Bracing herself for the quite literal hurricane Bianca she was about to face, she grabbed the dress and hid it behind her back as she approached the living room.

“Fucking bitch” Bianca muttered, accidentally dropping one of the bags she was carrying before noticing Adore hovering in the doorway.

“Are you gonna keep gawking at me or are you gonna come help?” Bianca asked, a phrase that would usually hold some humor if it wasn’t for these circumstances.

“Uh, Yanx?” Adore asked timidly. “I have to tell you something first…”

Bianca sighed deeply, setting down the things she had been holding. “What did you do?”

Adore emerges from her hiding spot behind the door-frame and holds the dress out in front of her. “So I kind of…um…ripped your new dress…but I swear I didn’t mean to! I wanted to try it on but then I couldn’t fit it and it just-“

“This is exactly why I told you not to touch my shit!” Bianca exclaimed, rushing forward to snatch the garment from Adore’s shaking hands.

“I-I tried to fix it but I didn’t know how and I’m so sorry-”

“I can’t fucking believe you! I leave you alone for 2 hours…”

“Bianca seriously, it was an accident! I can help fix it if you show me how.”

“I think you’ve done enough.”

“B-but Bianca I-“

“Go home, Danny.”

The use of her real name made Adore realize that Bianca meant business. She wanted to argue but the words couldn’t get past the lump in her throat. Instead, she pushed past Bianca, grabbing her leather jacket from the couch and hurrying out the door, aggressively slamming it behind her.

The whole apartment shook as Bianca was left holding her newly damaged dress. She heaved a loud sigh as the guilt began to creep in.

The dress really didn’t matter. It would be an easy fix and she knew it. The worst part was that she had taken out her negative feelings and emotions about her own shitty day on the younger queen. Adore didn’t deserve that, and Bianca would spend many hours regretting the fact that she had probably just made her friend cry.

Deciding to give Adore some time to cool down, Bianca headed to her sewing room and went to work fixing the dress. A few hours later it looked good as new. Picking up her phone, there were no messages from Adore.

This sent another pang of guilt through Bianca’s chest. Usually the younger would always be the first to try to fix things when shit went down between them. But not this time.

Putting her own stubbornness aside, Bianca typed out a simple message to Adore.

BDR: I fixed the dress.

No response.

It was pretty late at this point. Wondering if Adore had gone to sleep, she waited about 10 minutes before sending the next message.

BDR: I’m sorry I yelled at you.

Still no response.

A few moments later she heard knocking at the door.

Bianca had a feeling she knew who’d be there. Only one person ever showed up at this hour. She found her suspicion to be correct when she swung the door open and saw those familiar shiny doe eyes staring back at her.

“Pussyface…” Bianca said, voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“I couldn’t sleep knowing you’re mad at me…” Adore confessed, looking at the floor.

“Hey, no, it’s okay” Bianca soothed, ushering the younger into the apartment and wrapping her arms around her. “I’m not mad anymore. I overreacted earlier and I’m sorry.”

“You scared me, B. You never yell at me…” Adore said, shuttering at the memory.

“It won’t happen again, okay? Not like that. I took my anger out on you and you didn’t deserve that.” Bianca told her, also shuttering at the mental image of Adore’s hurt and confused expression after she had yelled at her.

“S’okay” Adore mumbled into her shoulder.

“But hey, I fixed the dress! Wanna see it?” Bianca asked with a grin, holding Adore at arms length.

“Are you sure you want me near it?” Adore asked with a sad smile.

Bianca rolled her eyes. “C’mon, asshole” she said, grabbing Adore’s tattooed hand and pulling her towards the sewing room.

#rpdr fanfiction #biadore #adore delano #bianca del rio #hurt/comfort #canon compliant #angst #whiskey neat #submission

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hermannsthumb · 5 years ago

Note

If your'e still taking prompts the one from the halloween list: "we’re secret friends with benefits and you accidentally wore my shirt to to the party so you’re pretending you came as me and it turns out your impression of me is on point and you know me better than you know myself are you sure you’re not in love with me??" seems like such a good newmann one. love your writing :)

from list of halloween prompts here

this one is literally so fucking good for them. god. GOD. theres like the tiniest bit alluded to not sfw in the beginning (after the making out) but after that its fair game

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

“Ngh,” Newt says. “Keep doing that.”

“Hmm?” Hermann says. He drags his mouth up from Newt’s collarbone, eyes dark, pupils wide, mouth curled into a lazy smile. Almost coquettish.

Newt blinks down at him blearily. And with a little poorly-concealed irritation. “I said keep doing that,” he says. “Not stop doing that.” He gives Hermann’s head a nudge. A tiny gentle one. He’s eager, he can’t help it; Hermann always gets him all eager and hot and bothered. He doesn’t think he’ll mind. “C’mon, baby, c’mon--”

It’s a mistake. Hermann minds: his demeanor changes in an instant, like Newt flipped a light switch that was clearly labeled with a do not touch! in masking tape and Sharpie. (Shit, Newt thinks.) “Don’t,” Hermann snaps, and swats at Newt. “You know I can’t stand it when you pull--”

“I’m not pulling your hair!” Newt says. He drops his hand away and holds it high above his own head just to make his point. “I swear. I was just trying--”

Hermann rolls off of him and onto his back, huffing, arms folding across his bare chest. Lacking any better ideas, Newt follows him. “Aw, Hermann,” he says, “don’t be like that.” He presses kisses to Hermann’s jaw, his chin, the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to--”

“Unhand me at once,” Hermann mumbles. Newt kisses his cheeks, his mouth. Hermann kisses back. His hand slides up to cup the back of Newt’s neck. “Wretched little man,” he continues to mumble. “Ah.”

“There we go, Hermann,” Newt says, grinning against his lips, and adds, sarcastically (because it always makes Hermann laugh), with a little nip of teeth, “There’s my Hermy-wermy.”

Hermann makes a face. “You know I can’t stand that either.”

“Really?” Newt murmurs. He tiptoes his hand down Hermann’s chest, down to the waistband of his ugly slacks, the open zipper; his grin spreads wider. “Because I think,” he starts to tug Hermann’s slacks down, “your hermy-wermy would say otherw--”

There’s a knock at the door.

Mood ruined, and all of Newt’s hard work getting Hermann game to go again ruined, too, Newt slides his hand back to safe territory and lets out a colorful stream of profanity. Hermann wrinkles his nose beneath him. Whatever, he curses just as much as Newt. “Fuck,” Newt finishes. “Who the hell is that?”

Hermann pushes him off and sits up with a grunt. “We’ve probably got a damned laboratory meeting we forgot about,” he says, “because someone couldn’t keep it in his Hot Topic skinny jeans long enough to wait until we clocked out for the night.”

“They’re not from Hot Topic,” Newt says. He pauses. “How do you even know what Hot Topic is, anyway?”

“I’ve seen the label on them,” Hermann says. There’s another knock. Hermann sighs, and makes to slip out of bed. “If you won’t get it, Newton, I will.”

Newt drags him back down quickly. “What are you doing?” he hisses. “Get back here! You are not answering my door looking like--” He plucks at the elastic of Hermann’s tighty-whiteys peeking out, pokes at the hickey purpling on his neck. “--this. Or at all, actually, how suspicious would that look? This is my bedroom.”

“We’re colleagues,” Hermann says with a sniff. “It’s perfectly natural for us to--er--consort. Outside of work. For all they know we’re talking about work.”

“In our underwear?” Newt says, and points out, “It’s not really natural for colleagues to screw each other as much as we do.”

Hermann flushes. “No one would be able to tell--”

To be completely honest, Newt really, really doesn’t care whether or not people know he and Hermann are--uh--rivals with benefits, but Hermann is always so weird about privacy, and Newt supposes it’s a little bit of a cliche to sleep with a co-worker, so he takes one for the team. “Jesus, Hermann, I’ll get the door,” he says. He swings his legs to the floor and does his jeans back up, then grabs the first shirt he can find and pulls that on too. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

Newt learns two things in the course of squeezing his head out the door and talking to a mildly intoxicated LOCCENT worker: one, that the guy was sent by Tendo to remind them about the super awesome spectacular Halloween party going on down the hallway right his second, and two, that Newt and Hermann were invited to this Halloween party, apparently agreed enthusiastically to coming to it a week ago, and if Newt doesn’t find Hermann and show up with him in ten minutes, Tendo is totally never speaking to them or inviting them to another awesome party ever again. Newt learns a third thing once he and Hermann toss on the rest of their clothing, smooth out their hair a little, and hurry down the hallway to where the party is being held within those allotted ten minutes: he’s accidentally put on Hermann’s shirt. A fourth: Hermann’s accidentally put on his.

Before Hermann can waltz in through the door and raise questions (because his buttons are straining obviously under his low-cut button-up sweatervest, kaiju blood stains a spot just under the lapel, and Newt’s swimming in Hermann’s sleeves and has got a fucking pocket protector in), Newt drags him off to the side and shoves him against a deserted wall to explain their predicament.

“We have to change,” Hermann declares immediately. “We can’t be seen--”

“No, look,” Newt says. He’s quickly formulating a plan. They won’t be able to swap pants, obviously, but-- “Take off your blazer and sweater.”

Hermann frowns. He tucks his blazer tighter around himself. “No,” he says.

“Take them off, jackass!” Newt orders, ripping his own tie off from around his head and starting to kick off his boots. “And your shoes. Look, it’s a Halloween party, right? People dress up for Halloween parties. Let’s just say we’re going as each other, everyone will get a huge kick out of it, no one finds out we’re, you know.” He adjusts his left index finger and thumb into a small circle, and pokes his right index finger through it a few times with bonus sound effects. “Rendezvousing. Platonically. Your public image is saved.”

“No,” Hermann repeats, though he flushes. “I am not wearing your disgusting boots.”

Patience running very, very thin, Newt corners him closer against the wall. Not very successfully: Hermann does, after all, have several inches on him. Newt has to glare up at him. “So help me God, Hermann,” he says through gritted teeth, “if you don’t give me your blazer right now, you can find some other horny bozo to--”

“Fine!” Hermann says quickly. He yanks the skinny tie from Newt’s hands. “If you spill anything on--”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

After a hurried exchange of accessories which leaves Newt looking like an exceptionally short and baggy Hermann, and Hermann like Newt if he wore contacts and enjoyed attacking his hair with scissors, they waltz into the party together. Newt’s actually pretty pleased with how their costumes turned out, all things considered--Hermann even consented to having Newt draw shitty approximations of his tattoos on Hermann’s arms with a marker they found in Hermann’s pocket.

Everyone at the party gets a total kick out of it, too, which is the best part--especially when Newt decides to toss in some quality Hermann Impressions.

“Newton,” he grumbles, poshly, hands on his hips, "quiet down right this instant.” That gets a few laughs. “You know I can’t stand it when you have fun.”

More laughs; Hermann, nursing a drink, looks only the vaguest bit amused. “Very funny,” he says. “My turn, now.” He shrinks in on himself in a way that makes him look just a bit shorter, and clears his throat: the voice that comes out next is so high-pitched, so scratchy, so fast, so--uncomfortably Newt that Newt nearly drops his own drink in shock. Especially once Hermann tosses in equally uncomfortably Newt hand gestures. “I’m going to do something ill-advised and dangerous to prove I’m right and give Hermann a stroke,” he declares. “Don’t you just love kaiju? They’re so cool.”

“I’ve never said I loved kaiju,” Newt says, but he’s grinning.

“They’re so cool,” Hermann repeats. “Do you like my tattoos? You know I have a Doctor Who one on my--?”

“Dude!” Newt hisses. He was eighteen, okay? Anyway, that’s not the kind of private, personal information that Hermann should be sharing if he wants to even remotely pretend they don’t get up to hijinks in the lab after hours.

“Dude!” Hermann echoes, perfectly.

The little crowd of their co-workers laugh. (Louder laughs than any of Newt’s impressions got.) Newt laughs, too, despite his embarrassment. And despite something beyond embarrassment, something he can’t quite put his finger on--it’s making his heart race, his palms sweat. Hermann sure must, well, know him to get him down like that, obvious comical exaggeration aside. (Or maybe it’s just because Newt talks a lot.)

“Ha, ha,” Newt says. “Okay, you win.”

“Thanks, dude,” Hermann squeaks in his Newt-voice. He winks.

Newt corners him at the snack table crammed into the far back of the room later, while Hermann is--innocently--scooping some bat-shaped pretzels onto a plate with a large plastic spoon. Newt makes his presence known by stealing a handful and swallowing down half of them. “Gotta say, dude,” he teases, “I’m a good look on you.”

“Of course you’d think that, you narcissist,” Hermann says, but he’s smiling. He swipes a few pretzels back. “Get your own. The bowl is right there.”

Newt steals another from Hermann’s plate. “It’s a crying shame you didn’t borrow my jeans, too,” he says. “I bet you could rock ‘em.”

“Mm, I highly doubt that.”

“You absolutely could,” Newt says. He glances around to make sure no one’s looking, and quickly darts his hand out to pinch Hermann’s ass. Hermann drops the spoon back into the pretzel bowl in surprise. “Though I guess there’s not much to fill them out--”

“You’re a wretched little man,” Hermann says, for the second time that day. The guy really needs some new insults.

“Your voice was really fucking good, by the way,” Newt says, casually, as they lurk in a different corner (lit up with a blacklight) a few minutes later. He’s finally gotten his own plate of food, though he keeps stealing from Hermann’s anyway. “Your Newt voice, I mean. And the--” He waves his hands around. “Do you practice it a lot?”

This pulls a snort from Hermann. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“How’s it so good, then?” Newt pushes, and Hermann shifts, clearly uncomfortable.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says. “I suppose I just--pay attention to you.”

Newt cracks a grin, and bumps his elbow against Hermann’s side. “I would kinda hope so.”

“Not like--” Hermann sighs; Newt shuts up fast. (Hermann’s moments of emotional candidness are very, very rare: the most he’s ever done after a fun romp in the sack, beyond leaving immediately, is pat Newt’s hand and say thank you, Newton.) “What I mean to say is that I am...fond of you. Fonder than I am of anyone else. And I watch you, occasionally, because I am fond of you, and notice small things about you--your speech patterns, how you carry yourself...”

That’s, well--it’s certainly candid, and unexpected, and good, of course, to know that Hermann like-likes him, but it’s also a little-- “That’s kinda creepy, Hermann,” Newt says. “You watch me?”

“That’s not--” Hermann stammers, and it turns into a quiet groan. “Oh, I’ve fouled this up. Newton--”

Newt saves him by stretching up on his tiptoes and planting a firm kiss on his mouth. Completely chaste. Devoid of any dirty intentions, like all of their previous kisses have been, like what they’re used to. Just a simple little kiss. It takes Hermann aback: Newt can feel him freeze up before he returns it tentatively.

It’s over in seconds. Newt pulls back and pats Hermann’s cheek. “I know what you mean,” he says. “I feel exactly the same way.” Then his grin returns. “I mean, I don’t watch you like a creep or anything--”

“Shut up,” Hermann says, pink-faced and very pleased.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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