dutchtransgender

[2kiran]

゛ KEEGAN P RUSS ⸝⸝ “damn, kid, who taught you that?”

synopsis. a man who's too starved of attention and a man who's low on patience. you two make a great pair, in spite of the prominent presence of your denial. | word count. 0,9k // 978 ◞

caution. bratty keegan. top male reader. mentioned spanking. gun play. degradation kink. dumbification. rough anal sex. no use of protection (wrap it before you tap it). namecalling (whore, slut).

3KVENT NAVI ﹑ MAIN MASTERLIST

keegan russ who's the epitome of need. he'll shamelessly yearn for your presence, grabby hands clinging onto your shoulder to feign friendliness with the gesture. he grips harsher than necessary, stepping a little bit too close. it's normal; unordinary out of sight, until his clothed cock purposely brushes against your thigh and you decide that act alone is your final straw.

his face nuzzling the pillow within his arms, muffling the high-pitched whimpers that fleed his quivering lips. “please- haah.. don' be a tease.” keegan russ who lazily pushes himself back into your face when your harsh hand relents it's assault on his ass, now replaced with your mellow and wet tongue tracing the red prints.

spittle dribbles down your chin, gathering on his lower cheek. it stung, tears prickling keegan russ' lashes. the angry head of his cock spat out pre, weeping at the feeling of the pink muscle lapping at him. you were right there, his muscles contracting around nothing as he felt your breath hit his hole. if only he knew how to make you move closer.

“or what?” cold and deadly. something so familiar trailing down and down until it heavily rested against the base of his dick.

he's internally panicking, heart skipping beats until his hips gently rock, pursuing that sensation. keegan russ' mouth is lost and locked on his face. “you're fuckin' pathetic. are you not ashamed? a man like you gets so wet from a gun.”

he loves when you use that tone on him. he tilts his head enough, eyes peeking above his shoulder and he nearly cums on polished wood when his stare lands on your kneeling form. your teeth grazes him, tickles his flesh, injecting into his skin and you're suddenly a drug that's inscribed into his being. engraved into that distant heart of his, pounding with life solely for you.

“that's your doin'.” keegan russ states, matter-of-factly. he lets out a drawled whine when you pull away, saliva sticking to him and it's concerning how he doesn't feel an ounce of disgust. the sight has you itching to snap an image of his ass matching the crimson on his flushed face. “did i say you could speak, whore?”

you rise to your feet, fingers wrapping themselves in his strands and tugging him closer to you. he's like an obedient dog, well trained to know the signal, locking his lips onto yours. an intimate tangle, shoving your tongue into his awaiting mouth and swallowing down his surprised moan.

pressing your straining cock against his sensitive backside, it's as if you're sucking the air out of his lungs. he's the first to free himself from the kiss, panting harshly to recover.

“you - hnnn - asked me a question, and 'm not ashamed. i want it, want you.” he's murmuring through dreamy breaths, hips gently rolling to wordlessly convince you to finally fuck him.

the muzzle of your gun coaxes out a bone-chilling pattern up his length, rubbing along the underside of his tip. your jaw tenses, clenches, attempting not to lose your temper and give in immediately. his teasing undeniably worked on you, the memory of that daring look he passed you too tempting for you to rid of.

the hard structures built in his mouth dug into the silk case of the pillow, drool seeping and smearing across the material. his groans barely dulled, sobbing freely to eradicate the blur in his vision. keegan russ reduced to a stupefied slut, bent to your will as he's teetering both on the edge and your last nerve.

“is that th - the best you can do?” he gasps, clenching around you.

you grind inside of him, cock caressing his prostate with slow, smooth motions. drawing out, rim taut around the thickness. “shut it.” your hips slam forward, jolting the man and it has pain striking his abdomen when the edge of the desk jabs him.

the pistol sits neatly within your hold, pointed to the back of his head. it sends an abrupt shiver to his spine, the sense of death overwhelming him. “shit, you're so tight. what, you don't want me to pull out that badly?” he doesn't get to answer. you don't let him.

keegan russ who almost shrieks when your other hand grabs his hip, the bruising grip failing to genuinely hurt as you force him to fuck himself on your dick. “hnnngh! it's—” he interrupts himself with a loud gasping-moan, muzzle pressing on him harder.

“not your fault? just look at yourself.” you guide him, hole clinging onto you desperately, as if he's keeping you in - begging you to stay inside of him. he's never felt so full, unable to form rational sentences that would defend his current state. “all dumb 'cause of my cock. can't believe it took a few touches to get you like this.”

the pace quickens, body numbing from the force. you wrap an arm around his middle, yanking him upwards. the weapon against his temple, reminding him of it's presence, a weak whimper falling in between the pleasure-blinding moments. “what a slut you are.”

your leaky tip repeatedly rammed his sweet spot, his walls carrying the shape of your size. keegan russ cries out, hands reaching your forearm to ground himself to reality. a zip of ecstasy runs through him and up to cut his train of thoughts. brain idly sensing how your finger was centimeters away from the trigger.

his dick twitches, pearly, thick ropes spurting from his neglected slit. he would've doubled over if it wasn't for your strong hold keeping him in place, lowering the gun and kissing his cheek whilst he comes down from his high.

keegan russ groans out, the sound mixing with a half-whine. he was needy, and you lacked the copious amount required of patience to tolerate it. he had to have more. “why'd you stop?”

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Hello!

I always wondered honestly how FO4 faction leaders (and maybe some companions that also belong to sayd faction, like Danse) whould react finding out the Sole Survivor is with the Enclave? (Maybe via a tattoo they have or dogtag)

Im guessing most whould be very unhappy and instantly accuse them of being a spy.

I'm interested what you think, since for fo4 the only Enclave option you really have is the Enclave rising mod but companions don't comment on it of corse.

Fo4 Factions React To Sole Being With The Enclave

➼ Word Count » 1.7k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Platonic/Romantic, Angst? ➼ A/N » This is such an interesting idea! Also, I hope you don’t mind but, I added a few more faction characters 🤭

Preston was horrified when he found out. There have been a few stories from settlers migrating from the Capital Wasteland, but he never imagined that you, of all people, would be with them. The entire idea of 'cleansing the land' is precisely what the Minutemen are trying to fight against. He feels as if you've just been using him this entire time for your own personal gain. Why else would you agree to be general if you didn't believe in their cause? Did you ever think they'd be able to make a change? Or were you just playing along for the fun of it? It's an understatement to say he's angry, though, more at himself than you. Out of everyone he could've stumbled upon to make into the Minutemen's new leader, you're who it was. And he was the one who supported you. Preston's won't be in the mood for compromising, he'll just turn you away. Similar to how he does when you side with the Nuka-World raiders. He's over it. He'll start over - find someone new, and you can go back and do whatever it is that you do. He's disgusted with himself for sticking with you for so long, but also because of how he can't bring himself to kill you. He just wishes you didn't try so hard to be friends with him. Then your betrayal wouldn't hurt him so badly.

Sturges noticed the Enclave marking early on but didn't know what it symbolized and never mentioned it. It wasn't until he overheard your argument with Preston that he decided to approach you about it. He stopped you while you were leaving Sanctuary and softly asked what happened between you and Preston. A part of him hoped he could mend your relationship with him, even if he knew it was far past that point. He cares for the both of you. The Minutemen were the best thing to ever happen to him, and he'd be damned if he let it break apart without trying to fix anything. That's what he's known for, isn't it? Fixing things? Even after he talks to you, he's still not sure what the Enclave is. All he knows is that he desperately wants both you and Preston to come to an agreement. He feels like a kid in the middle of a messy divorce and it stresses him out.

Any tough exterior that Elder Maxson puts up is immediately shattered when he sees that painfully familiar mark. He's seen firsthand what they've done to the world - what they're capable of, and he refuses to condone that behavior, especially when it comes to a supposed member of his cause. He'll stare you down with both a mix of fear and anger for stepping aboard the Prydwen. Who do you think you are? Surely, your joining the Brotherhood wasn't an accident, and he's not willing to wait and find out what your purpose for infiltrating them is. You're off the ship. No discussion necessary. He refuses to fight alongside anyone of your stature, and if he ever sees you again, he won't hesitate in ordering your death. The Commonwealth won't be a repeat of the Capital Wasteland. He'll make sure of it.

Danse doesn't have many memories of the Enclave, but if it evoked a reaction like that out of Elder Maxson, then he's sure you can't be anyone good. The decision on what should happen to you is out of his control, but whatever is decided, he'll stick with and enforce. His loyalty to the Brotherhood outweighs his relationship with you. Even if you were considerably close to him, he'd still be firm in his stance. You either need to leave for another state or be exterminated. Heartbroken as he might be, this isn't the first time he's had to do something he found hard for the betterment of the Brotherhood. He was close to Cutler, and look where he is. Danse doesn't sympathize with enemies, and you're no exception.

Haylen might not have been a scribe during the Brotherhood-Enclave War, but she still remembers those moments vividly. It was concerning as a civilian, and she can't even imagine what it felt like for those who were on duty. Despite the threat you could be to the Brotherhood, she feels conflicted about completely dismissing you. You've done a lot to support their cause and, to her, that means something, no matter if you've got an Enclave marking or not. Whatever Maxson decides is what he decides, but know that if you ever happened to be in the same area, she'd gladly bring you a bit of supplies.

Desdemona notices it, and would've turned you away when you first discovered the Railroad if it weren't for Deacon vouching for you. She's suspicious of you from day 1 and nothing ever changes about that. Even if you helped them out from start to finish she'd be suspicious. The Enclave is a massive and very dangerous organization that the Railroad does not support in any capacity. The fascism alone makes her feel critically toward you and you'll have spies observing your every move until she decides that she finally trusts you, which probably won't happen until you show you've fully quit working with them altogether.

Deacon’s aware of who you're affiliated with early on, but he hopes his shpeal about looking at what the organizations are doing rather than what they're telling you will change your mind. He really likes you and thinks that you'd be a great asset to the Railroad, especially since you've had military training at some point from being with the Enclave. Maybe it's idealistic of him, but he's really hoping that he can get you to change sides. He knows what it's like to have a past you're not proud of, and he genuinely believes he can get through to you and convince you to quit the Enclave at some point. Even if no one else in the Railroad agrees with him on that. There's just something about you that he's always been drawn to, and he doesn't want to give up on you so fast.

Tinker Tom's with Dez on this. He doesn't trust you either and would build you a gun just so he can track where you go. Every time you come near him, his eyes go wide with fear and his shoulders tense up. You don't know it, but he's got a pocket knife on him that he's itching to use the second you do something to fast. The only thing that'd make him feel a little better about having you around is if you agree to be injected with his battery acid. It'll make him calm down a little bit, but he still won't exactly like having you around so often. You're just not one of them. The Enclave and the Railroad both have complete opposite goals and it's hypocritical for you to argue you're loyal to both.

Glory might actually start firing on you if you even slightly raise you're voice at anyone in HQ. She's with everyone else in that she doesn't think you're someone who can be relied on and she does everything she can to get that across to you. In fact, if you do anything she deems suspicious or possibly traitorous, she'll attempt to assassinate you on your next outing. You're going to have to prove a lot to her, and many other Railroad members that you're not going to sell them out the second the opportunity arises. She's rude to you, sure, but you've got to understand that this is her family she's trying to protect, and you being there is a threat in it of itself.

Father doesn’t care as much as he probably should. He doesn’t see the Enclave, or any group for that matter, as a threat. At most, they’re just a nuisance that might slow down the Institute, but it’s something that’s easy to fix. He's a bit cocky in that way. Unless your relationship with the faction interferes with any of the Institute's plans, he won’t pay much mind to it. Just keep them in DC, won’t you? There's enough organizations to deal with in the Commonwealth as it is, no point in adding another.

X6-88 doesn't like it, and he's very vocal about wanting you to quit, but it's ultimately your decision. In his mind, the Institute is the only faction you should be focused on, especially if you're planning on being the leader, so quitting the Enclave would be in your best interest. He also has a cocky outlook concerning the Enclave and fully believes that, if anything were to occur, the Institute would be able to defuse it instantly. Despite his disagreement with who you're affiliated with, he'll still follow you. You're still his boss, and until you give him a reason to suspect that you're not as committed to the cause as you claim, it's none of his business who you decide to work with.

Dr Li is on edge the moment that you’re introduced. She can’t help but think back on everything the Enclave's done to the world - done to her. She does her best to hide her face from you, and whenever she has to talk to you, she's noticeably more nervous and tense. All she can think about is the assassination of James and the abduction of the Lone Wanderer. She's never trusted them and doesn't intend on doing it now. She's fully convinced that part of why you're here is to finish the job in exterminating her. She doesn't believe for a second that you'll do the Institute right and will leave to rejoin the Brotherhood if you happen to stay. It stresses her out that none of the other scientists seem to feel as concerned as she is with the thought of you being in the heart of their bunker. No amount of pleading will get anyone else to agree with her about being suspicious and that makes her incredibly fearful.

[silver138]

Perfectly Flawed - Chapter 12

word count - 1.9k

warnings - discussion of alcohol

Summary: Lina and Penelope get ready for their night out!

Walking in and grabbing another folder, I sit down and spin to face Penny while saying, "Heya, Pen! How're you doing?" 

Giving me a grin, Penelope spins to face me and says, "I'm doing well. So, uh, what happened at lunch to make you extra cheerful there, Lina?"

I flush and say, "I-I dunno. Just...talking with Spencer, and hammering out details about tomorrow," trailing off with a small smile growing on my face, while adding, "He also showed me a few magic tricks." 

"Ah, Spencer's sleight of hand work, huh? Yeah, the Good Doctor likes to show off new tricks he's learned every once in a while. I'm guessing he'll have a more captivated audience now..." she teases.

"I-wh-what, magic tricks are fun, I don't know about you, but I've enjoyed them since I was a kid." I sputter out. 

Penny just raises her eyebrows and hums out an "Mmm-hmm, sure..." She adds, "It probably doesn't hurt that you find the magician so dashing, huh?"

I start waving my hands and shushing her to not say that so loud, looking at the door, but it's devoid of anyone. After seeing that no one else is there to hear, I fidget with my hands and quietly say, "Well, yeah. There's that, too..."

Giving me a smirk and laughing lightly, she turns around and gets back to typing. Face beet red, I spin around and prepare to start on my work, starting my music and beginning to type. We work diligently for the next few hours, swapping old folders for new ones when necessary.

Finally, it's quarter til 5, and Penny and I are finishing up the files we're currently working on. Placing my finished folder into the box, Penny looks up with a sigh, a smile on her face. She closes up her folder and places it in the box with mine, standing up and stretching.

"Alright, Lina, you ready to go? I'm gonna swing by my place so I can pick up what I need to change into." Penny says to me, picking up her purse. 

Gathering up my things and putting them into my bag, I nod and say, "OK, sounds good. I can show you what I was thinking of wearing when we get to my place!"

Walking to the elevator, she smiles and raises her eyebrows, saying, "Oh, you're not looking forward to this at all, are you?" 

With as straight a face as I can muster, I say, "Nope!" then break out laughing. As we wait for the doors to open, Spencer and Derek walk towards us.

"Are you ready to bust loose tonight, my lovelies?" Penny says to them, wiggling her eyebrows. 

"Oh, you know it, Mama. How about you two?" Derek says smoothly. 

I grin and say, "Eh, I doubt I'll get too wild, but it'll be fun. How about you, Doc?" 

"Oh, um, yeah, I-I guess?" Spencer says.

Stepping into the elevator, Penny starts suggesting the kind of shoes that would be best for our time out. Spencer looks over at me and asks, "How are you going to have time to get ready? The Metro isn't that fast..." 

"Oh, Penny said she was going drive us to my place to get ready," I explain.

"Oh..." Spencer says softly. 

I laugh lightly and say, "C'mon, Spence, a girl needs time to get pretty." Spencer flushes, then looks down at his feet and mumbles something. 

Derek smirks and lightly taps Spencer's arm with the back of his hand and says, "Alright, you're comin' with me, Reid."

Getting off the elevator, we part and Penny leads me to her car, unlocking it so we can get in. Sliding in and buckling up, Penny turns on the car, then the radio. "I hope you're ok with some tunes on the way there," she says, adjusting her mirrors before pulling out of the spot. 

I grin and say, "As long as you're ok with me singing along if they put on something good."

She nods and smiles, saying, "Well, isn't that the point? Ya gotta sing along!" The previous song ends and then the first notes of 'Dirty Little Secret' start playing. I bop my head along to the beat, then start singing along. 

When it gets to the chorus, Penny joins in, and we sing along for the rest of the song. When it ends, she laughs and says, "'Make an idiot of yourself'. Right!" 

I grin and shrug, saying, "Eh, it got him to come, didn't it?'"

"That remains to be seen. OOH! You gotta sing something with me!" Penny says, pulling in front of her apartment building. 

As she gets out of the car, I say, "Yeah, absolutely!" She hustles into her place and comes back out in about 5 minutes. 

"OK, good to go!" she tells me as she straps herself back in. She puts the car back into motion, and we make our way to my apartment.

After a short drive, she parks her car and we exit, heading into my place. Unlocking my door, I let Penny go first, closing the door behind me. "You want anything to drink?" I ask, heading to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. 

"Yes, water's good, thank you," she says, taking the bottle I hand her and sitting down on the couch.

After taking a drink, I walk over to the clothes laid out on my bed. "I was thinking of these jeans," I say, placing them and the peasant shirt against me. "And this top. What do you think?" 

Penelope hums and taps her chin, narrowing her eyes and saying, "The pants are great, but how does the top look on you?" 

I bite my lip and shrug, saying, "Um, I think it looked ok when I tried it on, but I'm not sure, it...shows off more than I usually like to..."

Penny raises her eyebrows and smiles while saying, "Well, go ahead then. Let's see it!" I grin nervously and grab the top and the bra I'd need with it, walking into the bathroom to freshen up before putting them on.

I walk out, adjusting the top and looking down, trying to keep the bustline from dipping too low. Penelope stands up and walks over to me, raising her hand and asking, "If I could?" I nod, and she proceeds to adjust the sleeves so they're off my shoulders, and doing so makes the bustline lie flat.

"Um, it's-it's not too much, is it?" I stammer out, glad that I don't have to fight with it anymore. 

She gives a half-shrug, saying, "You are literally buttoned-up at work, I think that'll be ok. Besides, I thought you were trying to get a certain someone's attention?" 

I flush and start, "Well, yeah, but..." 

Penny cuts in, saying, "Trust me, this will grab his attention!" giving me a warm but amused smile. I give her a nervous smile back, taking a drink of water.

"Um, did-did we want to grab something to eat before heading out, or..." I start slowly, looking at Penny as I fidget with my water bottle. 

She hums and nods, saying, "Yeah, that might be a good idea. O'Keefe's doesn't have too much in the way of food."

She checks her phone, jolting slightly and saying, "Oh, we should finish getting ready, it's just about 6, and we were going to meet up by 7. OK if I steal your bathroom for a few minutes?" I nod, leading her there.

While she gets herself ready, I start searching for something to put my hair up. Finding a black velvet scrunchie, I stand in front of my vanity mirror, trying to put my hair into a decent ponytail and keep my hair off my neck.

Touching up my eyeliner and adding some dark red lipstick, I give myself a final once-over, just as Penny walks out of the bathroom. Turning around, I ask her, "Well, what do you think?" 

She gives a nod of her head and says, "Lookin' good, Lina."

I smile and tell her, "You look amazing too, Penny. But you probably already know that!" 

She gives me a small grin and says, "Doesn't hurt to hear it from others every once in a while, though." 

Going through my purse and inspecting what I have in there, I ask Penny, "So, what should we get? Oh, I remember that having greasy stuff is good for when you drink, right? Supposed to, like, make the alcohol absorb slower or something?"

She laughs lightly and says, "Yeah, something with fat and also carbs and protein helps." 

"So, we wanna get, what, some burgers and fries?" I ask her as I put on a pair of short black combat boots with chunky soles.

"Ooh, yeah, that sounds good! I know a great place with veggie burgers, too!" Penelope says as she checks over her hair and makeup in the mirror. 

Grinning, I make sure I have everything I need in my purse, then ask Penelope, "Anything you need me to grab before we head out?"

Switching into the shoes she brought, she shakes her head, saying, "Nope, I have it all here. Just gotta put my coat on and we can split." As she shrugs her coat back on and grabs her work things, I get my coat on as well, waiting for her by the door.

Heading out, I lock my door and follow her back down to her car. After buckling ourselves in, Penelope starts driving towards the nearest burger place, maneuvering into the drive-through. 

After placing our orders and getting our food, it's not long before we're back out on the road, off to our intended destination, O'Keefe's. As we sit in the parking lot and eat, Penny turns the radio back on, loud enough to hear but still carry a conversation.

As we eat, Penelope and I talk, mostly about the past week. "So, it isn't usually that calm?" I ask, wiping my hands on a napkin. 

She hums as she takes a drink from the soda she got, then says, "Well, it's probably like that about half the time. It just feels like it's hectic more often, though."

"Do you ever go with them?" I ask, taking a bite of my burger. 

Grabbing a fry, she shakes her head and says, "No, not usually. I think it's because half the time, the places they end up in have little to no internet access, and that's pretty vital for my end." I hum and nod in understanding.

As we finish eating, she starts gathering all the garbage in the plastic bag, motioning for me to hand her mine. "Gotta keep my Esther lookin' good." She says, patting the dashboard lovingly.  

"That said, you ready to rock?" Penelope says to me, checking her makeup one last time. 

I take a breath and say, "I'm ready when you are Pen." 

She gives me one last smile and says, "Let's go have some fun, then!"

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Story masterlist

[shiroi---kumo]

The Unlimited of Light :: Salvation's Savior Complex

So my brain just wants to ramble about my son again and how he is the living embodiment of Salvation. He's the Light half of the Unlimited and he was born to be the hand of Salvation. That is what the Child of White is. I'm not being metaphorical about this when I say this guys. I know I keep saying Kumo is Salvation like it's pretty poetry prose but I'm being literal. The Unlimited are a divided set of two halves and Kumo exists on the side of Salvation.

And he knows it.

He is light, life, love, salvation. He is these things. They become him. They are his essence. They are his core. Kumo is Salvation born to immortal flesh. That is why he has said more than a few times in asks - anything along the lines of "Salvation, my given name."

He means it when he says that. He means it in every single literal sense of the words when he calls himself Salvation and Kaze -> "My brother, Destruction."

I.E. see here ->

He's being literal.

He's being absolutely literal when he says this and I just wanted to clear that up for anyone who thought he was just trying to paint pictures with pretty words.

Kumo was raised in a situation that he was told from the very beginning of his life, for his whole life, that he was the Child of Salvation and it was literal job to save his people from some sort of calamity. He was told his whole life it was his job to save those around him and it was drilled into his head to do so by any means necessary. So because of this Kumo developed a Savior Complex and a Disposability Complex because he was taught from an extremely young age that the only way to truly save those around him was to sacrifice himself in order to do so.

This is why Kumo's death count is so high. Once he realized he was immortal, all bets were off and he could truly throw himself on the fire to save because his life "didn't matter" - he'll always revive. He's traded and bartered his own life away in the exchange for the safety of others more times than I care to count and quite frankly more times than he cares to count. He does it without thinking. He does it as quickly as he draws breath. He'll throw himself on the fire to save those around him without flinching.

So this leads into the whole point of my ramble here.

Kumo's got massive trauma from this part of himself. All of the deaths, and the belief that his life is insignificant in the face of the greater good. The belief that he was only born to die in the name of saving and protecting those around him. This is where Kumo doing the work comes into play.

Because the thing he needs to realize and come to terms with, is the greatest thing he can do is save himself. He needs to do the work. He needs to step up. He needs to clean up his messes. He needs to redeem himself, if not for Wonderland, but for himself. Kumo needs to destroy the idea he was taught all his life that he has to die to save. Kumo needs to destroy everything he was raised to believe about his own life only having one purpose so he can save himself.

Kumo needs to save himself so he can save others through his love and grace. Kumo can save and protect the universe around him in so many other ways and he doesn't have to die to do it. He just needs to destroy the belief that he does. He needs to destroy the idea that he will always come second and that everything else comes before he does, because once he does then he can properly assume the throne to lead this world of scattered people properly. He can finally save the worlds around him by prioritizing himself.

Kumo has every single making of a proper, fair and just King. His problem right now is his lacking self confidence and his obsessive Savior Complex that tells him self sacrifice is the only way.

Kumo is salvation but he needs to destroy himself to save himself first.

[e1igius]

fingers clench the steel between his fingertips , white from adrenaline , heartbeat pulsing through every cell of his being. there have only been a handful of times in which he and the government agent have been at odds , in which they have had guns drawn and words exchanged with one another. but at the end of the day the man had never once feared that his life would be in actual danger. no he knew that at the end of the day , through thick and thin , she would still choose him. that they knew he was right , that the only reason she wasn't at this side permanently was that her government job was the only thing keeping her from him. and yet somehow , some way , she had turned on him. the man didn't have to step through her doorstep to know what was going on , the darkness that enveloped the place gave away enough information --- she was armed and dangerous , and she was expecting him , and not in a good way.

when he'd broken the door down , eyes had found mangled curly hair and a gun pointed in his direction. she had asked for his surrender , and blue eyes had stared back at the woman in confusion. how dare she ? she had helped make him what he was , she had given him leads , found the dangerous men for him to take out... brought him along to kill those that needed to be killed. to end things that needed to be ended. and yet there she stood , her eyes as cold as ice , as if she has already decided that he is not worth saving , that he is no longer the man that he cares about. the realization makes blood boil under sunskissed skin. no warning note , no goodbye. she was ready to place a bullet through a monster's skull even if she loved it. and he wasn't having any of it.

he would never have done this to her. he would never have premeditated having to kill her. he wouldn't have planned this far ahead of time , have lowered himself to this. and the realization has him second guessing every second of the relationship they have shared up to this point. was she just using him ? had she ever cared ? did she want him to play into this hand ? or maybe she did love him ? and this was just a test. maybe he was overthinking this and the gun pointed at him is some sort of sick joke ? maybe he should lower his weapon but that was the first rule of combat , shoot first ask questions later. if one accidently broke the geneva convention it didn't matter... huck himself was sure he'd broken it too many times to count.

no , huckleberry laughed. eyes beginning to brim with emotion as he realizes that , he's trying to convince himself of a lie. that there is no way around the singular realization that if he moves , she'll shoot. he lowers his weapon he'll get arrested. the laugh echoes in the silence , it's dark and hollow and full of a frantic panic , laced with anger. what else is he supposed to feel ? he loves her. and she's willing to slaughter him like a dog if necessary. ❝ bella anita , wha' the hell's goin' on here lil'lady ? ❞ his finger's over the trigger ; just as he knows her is as well. eyes find eyes and the hesitation he's feeling about his qualms over survival disappear out the window. he's seen that look , the knows that look , the i don't want to but i have to look. and the realization sets in. he isn't important enough for her to set aside her loyalty to the demons that run this world. to the facility of morality & law. no , she's decided that it exists and that he's on the other side of it... despite him willing to die for her. despite him wanting to serve her.

the trigger squeezes. a single bullet finding it's home between a pair of beautiful brown eyes. her body pushed back from the impact. on the ground in under a second. the gun is holstered , as heavy combat boots walk over , kicking the body aside and recovering the single bullet that has made a perfect exit hole through a shattered skull. the blood & brains attached make it seem personal , but the bullet gets placed in his pocket , as if it's just another kill. as if this isn't the single most important person in his life wasn't lying deceased from his own hand on the ground like some sort of idiot. storm filled oceans find eyes rotting away by the second ; oak filled browns drowning in the ocean's rage. ❝ i would never have done this to you. ❞ voice feels empty over the now empty apartment's. emotion stripped away , shredded and tucked away into crevasses of an beating heart.

a hand reaches out , tucking messy curls away from the deceased's face , ❝ i loved you too much to ever do this to you. ❞

@executiioner🗡 (because I’m still mad about the betrayal meme)

[firebirdsdaughter]

Hmmm…

… Saw someone say Peter got played into stealing the security footage, and… I just don’t think so. Between Neal’s little kid ‘you stole that for me???’ and Peter’s exasperated reaction, I don’t think Neal was with it enough for an actual full play (boy couldn’t even walk) and even if it was, Peter saw through it and decided to go along. Like Neal totally meant it and there is affection there (the one and only time Peter pats Neal’s hair, my beloved), but the rest of his reaction is more ‘fine, if you want it that bad’ to me. One thing that’s consistent through the show is that Peter does not easily fall for Neal’s plays—as a consequence he’s over suspicious, but he’s not easy to play. Yes, it’s out of affection for the adorable dumbass who got himself into this, but I refuse think of it as a ‘play,’ esp after the ‘sympathy card’ conversation in the previous ep. If anything, I feel like his thought process was more ‘there’s a fifty percent chance he’s quilt tripping me but ugh fine you big baby.’

[theartoflovingthomashunt]

The Bogart Diaries #30: April Showers

[All Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer] [The Bogart Diaries]

Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Alex (F!OC) Other Characters: Bogart Hunt (dog), Addison Sinclair, Seth Levine Book: Red Carpet Diaries Word Count:  ~600 Rating: General: Fluff, pet fic

Synopsis: Bogart gets a new raincoat and Alex is ready to go try it out.

"Smile!" Alex modeled, following her own instructions as she held her phone up.

"What?"

She snapped the photo just as the black lab turned his head toward the sound of Thomas's voice. "Not you! Bogart!" Her head tilted to the side as she considered the image on her screen. "Still adorable! It actually works!"

"What is Bogart wearing?" Thomas questioned, his brows turning inward as his gaze fell to the black lab in the bright yellow raincoat, his tail beating happily against the floor. 

"Isn't it the cutest!?" Alex marveled, giving the playful pup a scratch on his head. "Addi made it for him."

"Why?"

Alex shook her head as if the question need not be answered. "So he doesn't get wet when we go for a walk in the rain, obviously."

"He's...he's a dog." Thomas sighed, knowing that argument never worked. "He plays in the water and mud on sunny days. Now, in the rain, you hope he'll stay dry?"

"Exactly." She nodded enthusiastically.

"That's illogical and with you, highly improbable."

Her mouth fell open in mock protest.

"I love you, Alex; however, you see a storm and find it necessary to dance in the rain, recreate cliche moments, jump in the puddles, and generally act as though there is not a care in the world."

She shrugged guiltily, chewing her lower lip. "You say that as though you've not had fun when you've indulged me."

After a moment of careful consideration, he continued. "That is not in question; rather, the fact that Bogart is very much your dog. Bogart staying clean in the rain with you, raincoat or not, is improbable. I'd venture to even say impossible."

"Ha!" Alex's eyes widened as her smile grew. "That just shows you. The word—impossible—itself says 'I'm possible."

Thomas couldn't help but return her warm smile as he reached to cradle her jaw, drawing her nearer as he brushed a kiss on her forehead. "We shall see, my love."

"Yes, we shall!" She leaned into his touch, kissing the palm of his hand. "Okay, let's go." Alex turned away quickly, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips as she ran toward the door, Bogart following close behind.

A Short While Later...

Thomas stood on the covered porch of their home with warm towels as the rain danced along the roof to a peaceful melody.

Alex and Bogart trudged their way back across the yard. Both were completely soaked and each with their fair share of mud.

"This proves nothing." Alex frowned, climbing the steps of the porch as the storm continued around them.

"Of course not," he agreed, handing her a towel. The back of his hand caressed softly across her cool, wet cheek. "I'm certain there is a story here, some unavoidable tale of necessity that led to your current condition."

Her eyes narrowed as her lips pressed into an innocent smirk; he really did know her too well. "Maybe..."

Bogart lept up the steps, waiting until he was safely concealed from the storm before shaking his body, sending droplets of rain and mud drifting in all directions.

Alex hid her laughter behind her hands as Bogart plopped down beside them, panting merrily, unaware of the mess he had just made. She held her towel out toward Thomas. "I think you might—" She brushed the fabric across his cheek. "You've got a little mud right there and here—" She draped her arms around his neck, further soaking him as the water from her own raincoat fell onto him. She pulled back ever so slightly, her fingers teasing the hair on the nape of his neck, "Now, what did I say before about you and Bogart getting in all kinds of trouble when it rains? You really need to set a better example for him than to get all wet and dirty. I thought we talked about this."

"Is that how you remember it going?" His hands settled on her hips, holding her against him. It was too late now to resist, and he had no desire to do so. He was different with her. He was different because of her and he was all the better for it. Wherever this journey took him, he knew he'd never regret a single moment as long as she was beside him.

A/N: I cannot remember where I got that reference dog photo 🙈 I saved it ages ago. I tried to reverse Google Search it, but it didn't come back with any results. I'm so sorry!!!

A/N#2:: Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this silly little story. I can't get enough of this dog. I really hold back, because I would write him every day lol

Tags in a reblog, please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed 💛

Full Image:

[cloverfics]

winter things ; eren, armin, levi, hange, sasha, jean, connie, and mikasa

warnings this is just some pure fluff hcs

genre fluff, modern au

word count 0.6k

inspiration n/a

synopsis winter things with some of the aot characters

author’s note i recently caught up on the aot manga and it ripped me apart. so, for my own self indulgence, here’s winter things i’d want to do with them individually ( or could see them doing )

eren yeager;

please ask him if he wants to build gingerbread houses

i can see it getting competitive, so competitive that eren wants armin to step in as judge

just to see his reaction, you play dirty ( eat steal some of his materials, even go as far as breaking his gingerbread, etc. )

doesn't notice for a while but thanks to your snickering and armin trying to hold back his laughter, it clicks

and boy, was eren not having it

after his rant you give the competition to him even though he won technically because of your cheating

armin arlert;

i don't know why but i can see gift wrapping with armin being therapeutic

there's the faint sound of christmas songs while you two are having small talk about who's present you're wrapping

softly asking each other for materials

and if there's bigger gifts, asking for help from one another

and for myself: he'd be there to calm you down when you accidentally pull too hard on paper and rip it

levi ackerman;

just one look at levi and you can tell he's not one for christmas spirit

but pester him a enough times to help you decorate and you'll get what you want

he claims it's because he doesn't want you to make the house ugly but truly he likes it

you know for a fact when you see him focusing hard on which bulb to put on the tree

to make it more fun, you guys decorate different parts of the house

and at the end of it all, you two sit down and enjoy tea ( while levi comments on the parts of the house you did )

hange zoë;

obnoxiously singing christmas songs

i just know it's the best feeling to scream your lungs out with hange

your guys' voice cracking and everything

not a single key is being hit but it's fun

it's usually done on christmas day when everyone else is over

and yes, levi hates it

sasha braus;

you and sasha annually decorate christmas cookies

of course with sasha, it's not smooth sailing

by time you guys are done half of the materials have been digested by her

but she still lets you have your fun and you guys end up with a handful of nice cookies

which by the end of the night are eaten by sasha but it's still fun

jean kirstein;

all i want is to watch christmas lights with jean

he'll probably think it's stupid at first but since you want to do it, he will no doubt

he's glad he goes along with you because seeing your reaction every time you guys see a breathtaking display makes his heart warm

lets be honest, connie and sasha tag along and they don't hold back every time they see him smile at you

connie springer;

speaking of connie, snowball fights are necessary every winter season with him

it's all fun and games until connie nails you in the face and then you're out for blood

you both have forts with stacks of snowballs and you guys could go all day

usually it ends sooner than later since it's freezing

ends with you two cuddled up inside

mikasa ackerman;

build a snowman with her NOW

she’ll be hesitant at first because just like levi, winter fun doesn’t seem like her thing either

but after seeing how much you’re enjoying it she’ll embrace it

liked dressing it the most, even went as far as wrapping her scarf around it

was, surprisingly, sad when it melted

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Unexpected Places (Pt. 02 of 11)

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless X Reader/Bjorn X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: As a princess, you've lived in a golden cage all your life, always a piece on someone else's game. But everything changed when the Norsemen came crushing down on Wessex, like waves in a violent storm. Their king spared your life and decided to take you with him to his kingdom, in what felt more like a rescue than a kidnapping. There, you were not only confronted with a completely different culture and lifestyle, but also with two of his sons. The oldest one has his eyes set on you, but it's the youngest one, Ivar, who gets who claimed your attention since the first sight. And he seems to have an unnamed interest in you. Of course you hoped whatever that was would pass, but when unexpected feelings start to flow a different way, things begin to change.

<- Previous part 01

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{Vikings Masterlist}

×

A Christian Among Vikings

It takes two days to share your entire life with the Queen of Kattegat, but she did seem interested after you started. Mostly on the parts where you give voice to everything you couldn't stand. The lies and hypocrisy. That, Aslaug loves, and you have no trouble telling her that. It feels good to say all these things without the fear of being caught.

So, since today you'll finally go to the feast they're still having for the third night on a roll to celebrate this year's raid, you relax in the tub, the warm water slowly getting colder, a sign that you'll have to leave soon.

You're stretching your legs, watching the water drops rolling from your ankle to your knee, before falling back into the water. “Aslaug, where's the–” The voice makes you turn your head at the door, pulling your legs down to the safety of the water. Ragnar stands there, wide eyes and mouth half-open. “I thought this was my wife.”

“Well, it isn't so go away.” Thanks to the distance, you know he can't see anything, but even so, it makes you uncomfortable.

“I live here, do you know that?” He snaps back and you roll your eyes.

“I don't care. I'm not your wife so get out.”

“This is my–”

“Get out!” You raise your voice, throwing water at him. “Or I'll scream for help.” You're not scared of Ragnar, and you don't think he'll try anything. But you know him enough to know he's a teaser, and he loves putting people in uncomfortable positions.

He raises an eyebrow, shrugging his shoulders. “Then do it.”

Squinting your eyes, you move closer to the edge, making sure he won't be able to see anything. “Help!” You shout, trying not to laugh. The situation is quite funny, and, if he wanted to try anything, he'd already moved. So you decide to play along. “Somebody help me!” When you hear footsteps, you smirk victoriously. But, when another man comes in, the smile fades, and out of instinct, you cross your arms over your chest.

“What's going on here?” The guy asks, confused as hell, furrowing his eyebrows at you and then at Ragnar.

“Princess, this is Hvitserk, my son, who so bravely came to your rescue.” Ragnar starts, pacing around to the other edge of the room. “Hvitserk, this is (Y/N). Aslaug has been keeping her in here I have no idea why.” He sounds a little pissed, but you don't mind him in the back, your eyes focused on his son.

“Hi.”

“Would the two of you just leave?” Now you're annoyed, running a hand through your soaked hair. Relieve washes over you when Aslaug comes through the door, her eyes quickly finding her husband.

“What's going on here?” She mutters, and through the corner of your eye, you see Ragnar already moving.

“Just came to take this.” He answers, showing her something you can't see, right before leaving, grabbing his son's arm and pulling him along.

“Your husband is a complete idiot.” You say, relaxing once again.

“I noticed.” She gestures at the dress she brought you, laying on a chair. “Get dressed. I'll do your hair like a Viking woman and you'll join the feast tonight.”

Doing as she says, you put on the dress, which is different from everything you ever wore. The fabric is strong, yet beautiful, in a wonderful shade of blue with golden details that look like flowers. Aslaug braids your hair, way too patiently, and when she's done, you do look like a Viking. She even teaches you how to paint your eyes, and you wonder why she changed so much in these two days. As you wait for her to get ready, with the aid of her slaves, you decide to ask.

“Why are you being so nice to me now?” Playing with the tip of one of the many braids, you rest your back against the chair you're seated on. “When I got here I thought I'd end up living with that Lagertha.”

“Because it's more than rare to find a Christian I don't find stupid.” Dismissing the girls, she stands up. You're not entirely sure that was a compliment, but you decide to take it. “And I have the feeling, mostly after everything you told me, that this was most of a rescue than a kidnapping.”

She has a point. “It certainly does.”

“Now, come. Today I want to introduce you to the town.”

“Introduce me?” Following her, you wonder what that's about.

Aslaug doesn't answer, and it doesn't take much until you start hearing the feast. How long do these things last? Is the third day and it doesn't seem like anyone is tired. The moment the Queen enters, some heads turns, and, as she stands right before her chair, a silence starts to fall. You stat in the back, waiting to see what's going on when she gestures for you to come. Taking a deep breath, you move to stand next to her.

Many eyes lie on you. Probably all of them. You can identify hate, curiosity, disgust, indifference... And other things you can't quite place. At least you look like one of them... It must be of some help.

“People of Kattegat, this is Princess (Y/N), daughter of King Ecbert of Wessex,” Aslaug speaks, loud and clear. “She was brought here by my husband, and now will live among us.” That gets some people talking. They're not particularly excited about a Christian among them... You can't blame them. Your people kill them, and they kill your people back. They're like natural enemies. “I'm aware of the fact that you have no affection for her kind, and neither do I. So that's why she will tell you what she told me.”

A breath gets caught on your throat, and for a moment you feel like you're back home, forced to admit your sins, even though you haven't committed any. You've been in situations like this, but now, it's different. You can speak. You can let out the very thoughts that once had you imprisoned, confined to your chambers for days no end. Maybe they'll understand, unlike people in Wessex. Aslaug did. “Tell what?” You ask because you did speak great too many things with her. You have no idea where to begin.

“Tell them about your relationship with your faith.” She seems so secure, unbothered by how some men and women look so angry at this whole thing.

Taking a deep breath, you look ahead, eyes scanning through the room for any kind face... But it takes a long time until you find that Ragnar son who went to your rescue, Hvitserk. He doesn't look like he hates you, so you focus on him. “I have no love for the Catholic faith.” You start, stepping forward. “Since I was little, they've been telling me you worship false gods, made of stone, wood, iron, and silver. But they do the same.” Hvitserk furrows his eyebrows as if asking something. “My father himself spent hours repeating prayers for a cross made of gold. They accuse you of doing the same things they do.” If your older brother heard this, you'd be whipped, probably. “They're all hypocrites, punishing and condemning people for the same sins they commit, over and over again, and that I could never accept.” Chuckling, you move your eyes from Hvitserk, noticing how some angry faces are now... Inquisitive. “I was told you're all murderers, but so are they. So what if you come home covered by the blood of your enemies? Isn't that what a battle is? If it was me on the battlefield, I'd rather kill a hundred men than die by their hands.” The hall erupts on yells and shouts, hands being raised. It takes you by surprise, and for a moment, you're scared they heard enough, and decided to end your life right here and now. But the yells are from... Praising, approval. “And, as Ragnar Lothbrok as my witness, I'd rather face death than go back into the life I had there. If I can even call that a life.”

“That's true.” Bjorn raises his voice, coming from behind some men. “The moment she learned her father was dead, he stood before my father, ready to face her fate. I've never seen a Christian girl do that.”

“Don't forget about how she stood in the pouring rain with that idiot over there,” Ragnar says, pointing out his hand at Floki, who's standing on a chair or something, at the very back, watching the commotion.

Floki giggles, tilting his head at Ragnar. “Even though she can't swim. And don't get me wrong, I'd still rather she fell off to the mighty waves than have her here with us.”

“Don't say that Floki,” Aslaug warns, moving to sit on her chair. “I plan to make a Viking out of (Y/N) since she's more than eager to leave behind everything she once knew.”

“No doubt.” You mutter, wondering if this is it, if you can go sit down somewhere.

“What about that man, Edward?” Bjorn asks, coming to stand before you. He's so damn tall. You don't think you ever met a man this tall before. “You said something about a marriage.”

“Oh, that.” Rolling your eyes, you shrug your shoulders. “My father would have me dragged down the aisle in chains if it was necessary since the political implications of the union were... Delicate. But you guys decided to show up and ruin his plans. Thankfully.”

“Was he that bad?”

“The most disgusting man I've ever met in my life, so, as the Queen said herself a few moments earlier...” Turning at the people once again, you sigh. You don't expect to be accepted by everyone here, you just hope they won't hate you. Not so much, at least. “This was more like a rescue than a kidnapping.”

“Well, now that you know our new resident, I must make something very clear,” Aslaug speaks up, her voice rising above everyone else's. “(Y/N) is a free woman.” She takes a cup from the small table set next to her chair, spinning it in her hand, not bothering to look up from it. “Whoever touches her loses the balls, the hands, and the tongue... As a start.”

You giggle, thinking she's joking, but by the way, the silence persists for quite a long time, you understand that was no joke. And that's very good. That will surely keep them away from you.

“Well, let's celebrate!” Ragnar shouts, and everyone sets in motion again.

You're not sure where to go, so you find a table that's half-empty to sit down, taking a cup and filling it. Being isolated for two days with Aslaug didn't really help you being sociable, and it does feel like you're from two different worlds now. Because that's the truth, even though you're dressed like them. There's an invisible barrier keeping everyone distant, and not only for what Aslaug just said.

“Hey there.” Someone says as they settle down by your side. Hvitserk glances at you, kindly smiling. “Sorry about earlier. Heard a girl screaming, thought something bad was happening.”

“Well, something bad was happening. Your father was annoying me to death.” Taking a few sips from your drink, your eyes find that man again, Ivar. He's seated on Ragnar's chair, chatting with his mother. As if being called, he stares straight at you, suddenly angry.

“I see you already met my little brother,” Hvitserk mutters, and only then do you notice he had followed your gaze.

Clearing your throat, you look away. “Not really. But by the looks of it, he hates me.”

“I wouldn't say he hates you. Ivar is just... Not really fond of the idea of–”

“Of a Christian girl among us.” The voice comes from the head of the table, and when you raise your eyes, you see the man himself. But this time, you don't let his eyes pull you. Somehow, you manage to distract yourself. “You know you're only here because my mother wants to turn you into a Viking.”

“I'm not interested in being anything else than myself.” Drinking what is left on your cup, you sigh. “Haven't had the chance since I was born.”

“Do you really expect anyone here to believe you didn't like being a princess?” His tone is mocking you, a fake pity expression on his face.

“Being a princess in England might be fun if you just do as everyone says, no questions asked.” For some reason, you're pissed. Ivar pushed some button that got you suddenly annoyed, so you stand up, bending over the table to get the jar and refill your cup. But before you can reach it, Ivar takes the thing, drinking straight from it, some of the liquid dripping on his chin. Sighing, you squint your eyes at him, a humorless laugh escaping your lips.

“Here.” The voice gets your attention, and when you turn at him, you see Bjorn filling your cup again. “This one's better anyway.”

“Thanks.” Sitting back down, you give Ivar one last glance before taking long sips.

“Are you going to live here?” Bjorn asks. “Or are you going to live with my mother after all?”

“I'm staying.” Nodding, you look at him. His mother is the most famous shieldmaiden in the world, a skillful fighter. Also Ragnar's ex-wife, reason why Aslaug can't stand her. “The Queen already helped me settle on my chambers.”

“That's good.” He smiles, and a man pushes his shoulder quite violently. Bjorn turns to face him, cursing, but soon enough bursting into laughter.

Ignoring the two men, you look down at your cup, now almost empty again. Music starts playing suddenly, and it doesn't take much for people to start dancing. It gets louder as the minutes go by, and Ragnar and Floki stand on your table, moving around and laughing, kicking everything out. Your eyes follow the whole commotion, standing up and stepping away from the table when they get a little too close. But you don't mind. You've never seen people acting so... Crazy. So happy. And you can't stop smiling, seeing as other people join them.

“I bet you never saw anything like that,” Hvitserk says, raising his voice a little to make himself heard. “I know how boring the feats are in England.”

“This is so much better.” Ragnar jumps to the ground, but one of his legs get caught in between the bench and the table, making him fall. But on the next second, he's up again, a smile on his lips. “My brother would have a heart attack if he ever saw this.”

“Aethelwulf?”

“Yeah.” Someone bumps on your back, making you almost fall. But Hvitserk holds you up, and he seems quite confused to find you laughing. “What? It's alright, I like it. At least this chaos is real, people aren't faking it.” As your eyes move through the hall, you find Ragnar, behind this weird curtain made of leather. You didn't even know he left. “What's that weirdo doing over there?”

“He's observing.” Hvitserk answers, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “From back there, he can see who's sleeping with who. Who's not sleeping with who anymore, who may be plotting something to put him in a dangerous position.”

“Smart guy.” Nodding to yourself, your attention is stolen by the crowd, that starts moving outside, shouting something you can't really understand. “What's going on?”

“Someone's gonna fight. Come watch.” Hvitserk helps you walk among the people, all the way to the beach. Torches came out of nowhere, illuminating the night. Everyone seems oddly happy for this to be about a fight, but Hvitserck wasn't wrong. On the sand, the two men pace around each other, shouting, cursing.

“What's this about?” It happened out of nowhere, and you're not sure how serious this is. The warriors are clearly pissed at each other, but the public is cheerful. This is when you feel how new and different this culture is. Something like this would never happen back at Wessex, and it will take a while for you to get used and understand how things work here. It's a shock, a sudden impact.

“They're both in love with the same woman. She claims she loves both, but they won't share.” Hvitserk explains, as someone passes him a torch, which he holds up high. “The one who survives gets to be with her.”

“Damn.” You mutter as the two men start attacking each other. You've never seen an actual fight. Girls aren't allowed on the battlefield, mostly not a princess. The only glimpses you had were from soldiers training, and it was nothing compared to this. This is violent, powerful, and you can't help but be impressed by their skills. Of course they're good. They're Vikings, a freaking force of nature, they had told you back in England. It's impressive how they keep getting back up, even after so many wounds. Cuts, punches, everything.

A particular loud shout coming from the crowd gets your attention. It's Ivar, seated on the sand, eyes shining and a bright smile on his lips. He's enjoying this. Everyone is, actually. And once again, as if you called his name out loud, he turns to look at you. And somehow you know exactly what he's looking for. Fear, desperation. He wants to see if you're scared.

But... You're not.

Every single person here is joyfully yelling, and those two men choose their fates. They're not being forced to it, it was their decision, as it was yours to stand up, neck exposed, ready for the ax Ragnar was holding. They're choosing to face death, fearlessly.

Then, your eyes aren't on Ivar anymore, but following the men's every move. It doesn't take much for you to gasp and yelp when one or the other successes to throw a blow. You feel like a savage, laughing at the thought of what your father and brother would say if they saw you now.

When the tallest man, with long dark hair, falls dead, the crowd goes insane. The victorious raises both his hands, still holding an ax. A woman comes from the crowd, hugging and kissing him. “That's insane.” You chuckle, running a hand through your braided hair. “Teach me.” The request comes out suddenly, and you don't even give it much thought.

“Are you sure about it?” He asks, looking down at you. Hvitserk is being nice to you, and that's a surprise.

“I mean, I could never be a shieldmaiden but... I'd like to know how to defend myself.”

“Well, I've got nothing to do tomorrow, so I guess we could start.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you smile. “Thanks. You're the quickest and... Probably the most real friend I've ever made.”

“Yeah, you'll need someone to help you out around here until you get the hang of things. Ragnar gave me this task.”

“Oh...” Looking down, you start walking back to the hall, following Hvitserk's pace. Maybe it was a little stupid to expect him to be so nice to you. “You don't have to. I will get used to things on my own.”

“I didn't mean it like that.” He quickly responds, leaving the torch on some post along the way. “You're pretty cool, actually. For a Christian. You've been a good friend so far.” He gives you a glance and a smirk. “And I don't have to obey my father, you know.”

Blushing a little, you giggle. “Thanks again, then.”

“Now, get a good night sleep and get ready for tomorrow, I mean...” Hvitserk takes a look over his shoulder, a little too dramatic for your taste. “If my older brother doesn't mind it.”

“What do you mean?” Following his gaze, you find Bjorn staring. He doesn't seem angry, but he's not happy either.

“I think Bjorn likes you.”

“And? If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have watched the fight.” Shrugging your shoulders, you stop at the entrance of the hall, waiting as the crowd moves inside. “You've done more for me than he did tonight.”

“So you enjoyed the fight?”

“I have no idea why, or how, but I did.” Nodding, you smile again. “Now, friend, let's drink some more, and maybe I'll consider dancing.” Gesturing at the hall, you both walk in.

The warmth is welcome, and you soon find your way back to the table. But, as you sit down, you see Ivar again, crawling. He moves fast, talking to a man. As he moves past your table, he gives you a stare. It's different from before, but you can't read it. His eyes, like magnets, attract you in a way you didn't even know was possible. You think about waving, or smiling, but then he looks away and disappears inside the house.

“Don't mind Ivar,” Hvitserk says, and you look down at your cup. “He'll get used to your presence.”

“Let's hope he will.”

×

@multific @revolution-starter @crackhead1-800 @youbloodymadgenius @clown-boyyy @kitten0394 @castielsangelx-blog @goldlion07 @midnightmystic @readsalot73 @xvxcarolinexvx @momowhoo @fangfoxy @msrawog @walkingonshunshine @alytavzla

[charlotte-headcanons]

The secrets of Charlotte siblings: Part 2 (Flampe, Daifuku, Pudding, Zuccotto, Newsan, Custard)

Headcanon-heavy! If you’d like to see any specific siblings in Part 3, feel free to request. Askbox always open for requests and chatting, enjoy!

Part 1 

Probably the biggest secret that Flampe hides is her regularly botching the vote count in her King of Big/Little Brothers/Sisters award competition. As a matter of fact...she doesn't get all that many votes, and many little sisters are way more liked than her. Sure, she is a noticeable persona, but most sibling (with few exceptions including Perospero) don't enjoy her presence. She lies even to herself that everyone loves her, though; because that's what she wants and it allows her to keep her self-esteem intact.

Related to that, Flampe keeps secret some of her motivations for hanging out only with the popular siblings and being outright rude to the unpopular ones. See, it's a kind of popularity-by-association thing; she kind of hopes that being, for example, Katakuri's favorite will make her more popular too. Meanwhile, she also doesn't want to be judged for associating herself with the less-liked siblings in the slightest. She can't risk it. Not with her ambitions.

As we discussed somewhere before, Daifuku isn't too likely to ever admit his fears and weaknesses. One of the greatest fears he has but can't ever admit... Has to do with his position in Totto Land. As a father, the treatment of their fathers he observed makes him seriously afraid. He doesn't know if he's useful enough, he doesn't know if one day his own children won't learn the truth and decide to get rid of him... He doesn't even know if he'll survive Mama's next hunger pang. Survival and self-preservation are very important to him and neither is a certainty in Totto. So, he's afraid...but HELL NO he'll never admit it.

Despite his overall mini-personal-rebellion against Totto Land's matriarchy, Daifuku hides one more embarrassing secret: that is, that he finds strong women capable of overpowering him so hot. This doesn't fit together with anything else he says publically, though, so he never admitted this even to his own wife. Yet.

Pudding holds a secret on top of a secret that's on top of another secret. First, there's her 'evil' side persona. Then, there's her trauma, actually despising how Mama treats her (and hating Mama, let's be real), plus having actual positive feelings towards others, when they happen (like towards Sanji).

Besides all these canon secrets, though, we'd headcanon one more small thing Pudding hides. To gain the trust and admiration of the Cacao Island population, she might sometimes allow for some destruction of the buildings on the island to later rebuild them and be credited as a savior. This, along with covering her eye and acting all sweet, allows her to not face any opposition for stepping in to lowkey manage the island in Lola's place.

Zuccotto doesn't like to admit that the black on his arms isn't sleeves - it's his body hair. For all the tolerance of different species Totto has, he has heard comments about it pretty often, and he'd rather not deal with them; so, he wears the cape to make it seem like a part of his clothing from afar.

For a tough guy like he is, Zuccotto also really likes to bake. While he takes pride in his self-sufficiency and cooking, he finds baking to be a bit embarrassing, especially since his favorite part of the process is decorating the cakes - something that doesn't match his rough-around-the-edges image all that much!

Newsan's secret is pretty much known by anyone who knows him more closely, though strangers may still be fooled. That boy has a problem and his problem is picking up every single stray animal he sees off the street and adopting it. He keeps them in a special house with a large garden he bought just for that purpose, making sure that the pets get enough space; the house is far enough from any other estates that he can walk the animals when necessary without many people noticing that they belong to him. The decuplets all find it pretty funny, and many let him lie to their faces about it without calling him out. It goes like: "Sorry I'm late I was feeding my...UHHH myself"; "Sure Newsan-nii. Sure you were."

Custard was always a delicate girl. Sure, the ideal of a woman in Totto Land is the closest to Smoothie or Mama herself: strong, badass, independent, and imposing; but Custard never quite felt like it was her thing to be like them. Still, she has a great desire for being accepted; and so, she played along, fooling many that she's badass and actually not gentle at all.

Deep down, though, she really wishes she could lead a normal, calm life with her husband by her side; without having to fight or deal with the whole madness of a pirate lifestyle. She wouldn't even mind being a housewife, and she'd also really like to adopt a bunch of children; but as Mama prefers biological kids and she doesn't have an excuse of not being able to deliver those, she can't really argue for an adoption so far.

[rikumorimachisgirl]

HC: Asking you out on a date (Inarizaki team members x reader)

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1,471

A/N: Inarizaki boys asking girls out on a date. Featuring Kita, Suna, and The Miya Twins.

Disclaimer: I don't own Haikyuu!! or its characters, but I own the idea of this fic.

Premise: The Inarizaki Foundation Day Festival activities were announced during the school's  General Assembly. The events included the usual fair, booths, and games. The highlight of the festival was the dance party, where everyone was supposed to attend in formal attire and bring a date.

Kita

He heard about the dance the moment it was announced, and secretly worried about it despite his cool demeanor. 

He scanned the school every day for the perfect girl to ask out. It should be an easy enough task - except he didn't know what "the perfect girl" was. 

In class, he'd low-key pay attention to his girl classmates and think - she's too loud, this one's too quiet, the other girl is too flashy, and the other girl is too high maintenance for his taste. 

When girls tried to ask him to the dance, he'd politely decline and tell them he'll be doing the asking, thank you very much. 

Before he knew it, there was only a week to go before the dance, and he was still dateless. 

As all his teammates talked about their dates and what they were supposed to do during the dance after volleyball practice, he opted to stay away and pretended to practice his tosses against a wall. 

As he tried to block off the sound of Atsumu's voice declaring he and his date were gonna win King and Queen of the Dance, he noticed you quietly passing on water bottles with a wistful look in your eyes. He grinned to himself and thought that their new manager was not only hardworking, but she also loved to daydream.

"Are you going to the dance too?" He asked softly, as you handed him the water bottle. Startled, you looked at him and blushed. "Oh, I'm not," you replied quietly. "But I'm sure it'll be a wonderful event."

Curious, he asked why you weren't going, to which you replied, "No one's asked me."

He could've sworn he heard the trumpets playing a victorious melody in the background. Clearing his throat, he straightened up and put the water bottle aside. "(Y/n)," he said, as he looked at you straight in the eyes and smiled. "If I ask, will you please go to the dance with me?"

Suna

The first thing he thought of when the announcement came out was, 'what a pain'! He hated dancing and social gatherings that required him to dress formally. And he especially hated having to look for a date.

Compared to Kita, he didn't have a hard time dodging girls when they attempted to ask him to the dance. He would simply walk on by, pretending not to hear them. 

He would bail out of the dance if he could, unfortunately, it was a requirement and if he wanted to stay on the volleyball team, he had to comply with all the requirements. 

"Tsk, that dance is a bummer!" He randomly said in exasperation, as he waited in line at the cafeteria during lunch. "You could say that again!"

He did a double-take and saw you standing next to him, with the latest Hennseizer headphones on your neck and an uninterested look on your pretty face.

He couldn't get you off his mind during practice. He thought of the way you rattled off about how unfair it was to force people to attend the dance, and he couldn't get over how your mood matched his. He would've asked for your name, too, but you easily blended with the lunchtime crowd.

Suna was a mess - so much so that when Osamu spiked the ball, he didn't bother blocking it. "Suna! Get your fucking head in the game!" An angry Astumu screamed, much to his annoyance. 

The same thing happened several times, prompting Kita to step in and intervene before Atsumu rearranged his face. "You seem distracted. Go walk around and clear your mind."

So walk outside the gym he did, wandering around campus in search of a girl with short black hair, cool blue eyes, awesome headphones, and a killer attitude. He almost gave up until he saw you coming out of the library. 

"Hey," he said. "You hate dancing, right?" You cocked your head quizzically but nodded. "I hate it too. So why don't you be my date and let's hate it together? Also, my name is Suna. What's yours?" 

Osamu

He's a member of the 'dancing is a pain' club along with Suna. Why can't he do other things like sell food or man one of the game booths? Dancing was never his strong suit. Next to Atsumu, he was a total klutz. 

He avoided the topic like the plague, even during mealtimes with his family when their grandma would ask who he's bringing to the dance. 

"You'd better tell us who it is so we can tell her to wear iron shoes," Atsumu would tease, causing them to fight over dinner time a couple of times. 

The whole campus has dance fever now that the event was just a month away, and while everyone in the team already had dates, he was still stalling. 

You came up to him after cheerleading practice one afternoon. Determined to ask him out, you hid your nerves and smiled. "Osamu-san, have you found a date for the dance yet?" As soon as he said no, you took a deep breath and said, "Well, would you like -"

"Don't say it!" You heard him cut you off and saw him raise a hand to stop you. After that, he gave you a slight bow and ran off.

He couldn't believe you wanted to ask him to the dance. He was so shocked, he almost choked on the rice ball he was eating. He needed to do something about this. And fast!

"Tsumu, I need a favor." Atsumu raised an eyebrow at his twin and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Teach me how to dance." 

After two weeks, a bruised ego, and a dozen of blisters later, Osamu was finally deemed by his brother as 'passable'. The next step was to look for you and pop the question. 

He found you on your way to cheerleading practice, and he jogged beside you to catch your attention. "So, listen, (y/n)-chan. I know I asked you not to ask me to the dance before," he said and you blushed. "But that's because I sucked at dancing then. I think I'm passable now - at least that's what Atsumu says. So, now will you go to the dance with me?"

Atsumu

As soon as the dance was announced, he was so sure that he'd have his pick of pretty and popular girls in school. I mean, who wouldn't want to date a varsity player, right? 

He watched Kita, Suna, and Aran turn down one girl after another, and was initially chill over the fact that none of the girls asked him. "Maybe they're still working up their courage," he thought. 

But days turned into weeks, and he still had zero offers. He wouldn't have minded not getting asked, except he found out that Osamu just got asked out by one of the cheerleaders, too. 

"It's so weird. Isn't it weird? Why won't anyone ask me out?" He asked you as you helped him with his Math homework. You sighed and looked at him. "There's still a couple of weeks to the dance, why don't you focus on this first?"

Every single time he met with you for your tutoring session, he always complained about not receiving invitations to the dance. 

You had gone from giving him tips on calculus to tips on how to smile and look approachable. 

"It still hasn't worked. Another week has passed and I haven't received an invitation," he whined when he met up for you for the Science study period. "That's not true. I heard several cheerleaders asked you out," you quipped. He frowned and said they were too noisy and you rolled your eyes.

Atsumu had a funny way of diverting your attention from school work to something else, so you'd end up staying in the library longer than necessary. 

On one of your study sessions a week to go before the dance, he sighed miserably and said, "I still don't have a date!" You looked up from your textbook, frowning. "And why exactly is that?" If you had looked closely, you'd had seen the mischievous look in his brown eyes.

"That's because the question is all wrong," he said, and you raised an eyebrow, slightly confused. "Well, how exactly do you want it asked - Atsumu, will you go to the dance with me?" He smiled at you. "Why, yes, (y/n)-chan," he said, holding your hand. "I'd love to go to the dance with you. And no, you can't take it back." 

The end.

[read-of-the-day-blog]

Lunula

Noun [loo-nyuh-luh]

Something shaped like a narrow crescent, as the small, pale area at the base of the fingernail.

The mid-morning sun washed through the sterile, white room of Abigale Peters as her nurse helped her into the chair set by the window. She lowered her slowly and with practiced care that would be given to any other resident of the Rolling Hills Nursing Home. "Betty, be a dear and fetch my purse. We have to make it to church in time to greet the pastor or ill never hear the end of it from that nosey Mrs. Bradberry."

The plump, young nurse, whose name was really June, smiled patiently and turned to face the woman in the doorway, who stood tall and lithe but with some reservation. Her fingers curled around the handle of a soft pink kaboodle kit. She nodded graciously to the nurse and stepped inside. "Mama, you've already been to church today. The pastor loved your hat, don't you remember?" The old woman never did, but Denise always felt the urge to ask. Always hopeful that her mother would one day respond with an "Oh, of course, Denise. How could I forget?" But she never did, not anymore. She watched as her aging mother's brow furrowed in brief confusion before quickly being distracted by the movement of the trees outside her window. Denise sighed quietly and thanked June as the nurse set up a stool beside the chair and took her leave. Denise tucked a strand of mousy brown hair behind her ear and set the kaboodle on the chair-side table. With a click, it opened and Denise took her seat on the stool, adjusting for comfort as she spoke. "Mama...its time for another manicure. What color would you like today?"

"I always loved yellow. My kitchen is yellow, you know. Jacob always hated it. But I told him, I said...'well you won't be in it near as much as me and if I'm gonna be making you breakfast, lunch, and dinner each day, I want to do it in a room that makes me happy." Abigale gave a tired laugh. "That damn husband of mine. He's always gone at work nowadays. Betty, do you know when he'll be back?"

Denise paused and looked at her mother. Those blank eyes hurt her more than the questions, but not as much as being called 'Betty'. Betty was Abigale's sister who had died ten years ago and who her mother hadn't spoken to for at least thirty. It cut her like a knife, taking a tiny piece of her every time, but her therapist had urged her to try and not take it personally. Spite rose like a poison in her and for a moment she considered reminding her mother that Daddy was dead and gone, but that would only upset her, and not for long enough to make Denise feel any better. She took a deep breath and counted down from ten in her head before shaking the feeling and correcting her tone to the usual forced pleasantness she used on Sunday mornings. "This afternoon, I'm told."

Her mother nodded with a smaller smile, satisfied. Figuring she would never actually give her a color (yellow was a ridiculous color for nails. If her mother were in any lucid state she would never stand for it), she decided to pick one herself. Primrose. A proper color for a proper lady.

She shook the bottle and grabbed the emery board, cuticle pusher, and nail trimmers, setting all aside and pushing through the other bottles for the acetone and some stray cotton balls. She took her mother's hand, wrinkled with age and almost impossibly soft. The knobs and twists of arthritis in her knuckles still felt foreign to her, even after so many years. Denise drew in a sharp breath meant to control her emotions and set to work removing the dark polish from the week before. "I spoke to Cynthia two days ago. I asked when she may be able to make it back in town for a visit since she had to push back last month, but she wasn't sure. She asked that I.." Denise tightened her jaw. "...that I tell you that she loves you. And she misses you." Denise didn't believe it. Not for a moment. Cynthia cried and confided in her how hard it was to watch their mother deteriorate but Denise couldn't help but think that if she were actually here, marinating in the decline as Denise had been, perhaps maybe it wouldn't feel like such a drastic change each time she saw her. It was hard on Denise too....but she was here.

Abigale smiled brightly. "Cynthia is such a doll! You know she won junior Miss. Dickson twice? Bell of the ball! Oh!" She laughed. "Jacob practically had to beat the boys away with a stick." Denise rolled her eyes and shook her head. Abigale continued. "Cynthia always takes such great care of herself. I wondered why she wasn't a bigger help to Denise. The poor child couldn't stay out of the yard for more than an hour at a time. Hair always a mess. Always dirt under her fingernails." Denise's shoulders tightened. She looked at her own nails, nowadays well manicured and clean as a whistle. Abigale always said she was a 'late bloomer' but Denise more or less saw herself as an appeaser.

"Im sure Denise tried very hard to make you happy..." She muttered as she moved to the other hand.

"Well, she did what she could with what she had I suppose. Never as blessed as Cynthia in the ways of social graces-"

"Well maybe you would prefer Cynthia do your nails?"

Abigail turned to face her youngest daughter. "...what?"

Denise wiped away the polish on the last nail and shook her head. "Nothing. Maybe I should put on some music, hm?" Anything to stop the Cynthia golden child hour. There was only so much Denise could take. She stood and tossed the used cotton balls into a nearby wastebasket a bit more aggressively than was necessary before going to the radio and turning the dial to the designated oldies station, filling the room with the musical stylings of Doris Day. Abigale smiled and hummed along. Denise took another breath as she gripped the edge of the dresser and counted down from ten once more.

When she returned to her seat she started trimming her cuticles and filing her nails. Denise sat in anxious silence for a few minutes before asking a question she was certain she would.immediately regret. "And what about Denise? Were...were you proud of her?"

"Whats that, Betty?" Her mother had been lost in the music but Denise couldn't take it. She let out a small, muffled, anguished cry. "In not Betty, Mama! I'm your daughter! I'm Denise! I am here every week! I take you to church and to the doctor. I do your nails! Why can't you remember!?" She pleaded.

"Denise lives in Birmingham.," Abigale said with a furrowed brow. "Yes I used to, but I moved back here. To take care of you! Me, Denise! Not Cynthia, not Betty. Denise!"

A blank stare was all she got in return. Denise stood and put the tools back in the kit and walked to the bedside table to pluck a kleenex from the patterned box that was stationed there. She dabbed at the edges of her eyes and wrapped her arms around her frame, cradling the broken bits of her in front of the only person she believed could put them back together, but simply didn't possed the faculties to do so anymore. Her mother was never one to coddle even when she was aware. Self-comfort was simply a means of survival as much now as it has always been.

Abigale watched her all the while, worry falling over her time-worn features. She was quiet for a moment, as though considering what should be said to comfort the woman in her room. She was clearly upset though she couldn't imagine why.

"Dear...I'm sorry if you're upset." Her voice was quiet and gentle. The radio, as if deciding to attempt and cut the tension began to play 'Ain't Too Proud To Beg' by The Temptations. It felt cruel in context to Denise, but Abigale lit up and even clapped. "Oh, I love this song, don't you?"

Denise did, in fact, but she was in no mood. She simply cleaned up her face and made her way back to the stool, snatching the color from the table and shaking the bottle again. She told herself she would not speak again if she could help it. Today was one of those 'bad days' they talk about in her support groups. It was healthier not to take part in it for her own sanity. But then her mother said the most incredible thing.

"You used to sing this song and dance around the kitchen when we would clean up after dinner. It always tickled me. You have such a lovely singing voice. It's a pity you wouldn't sing for the church choir. I suppose you had too much personality for it, really. Such a big voice for such a skinny little thing."

Denise froze. A droplet of polish fell from the brush onto her skirt, but she hardly noticed or cared. "You...you remember that, Mama?"

Abigale grinned. "Oh, of course, Denise. How could I forget?"

They smiled at one another. Recognition flashing across Abigale's face, and relief washing over Denise's. And for that brief and fleeting moment, Denise felt whole again.