#is that he'll play along when it counts and step in when necessary

[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.’

[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.

[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)

[eulalielatibule]

To the salon!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,481

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff!

Summary: It's really not that bad, it just needs a little... Shaping. To the salon! Reader and Steve acquire an old stuffed animal of Steve's that is in need of some TLC. So she sends the beloved stuffed bear to a stuffed animal hospital for a makeover.

A/N: this is for the 5k writing challenge hosted by @dadplease !! I really hope you like this, and congratulations on 5k followers! You deserve this and I look forward to you gaining another 5,000!

🧸

Steve Rogers is a man of many things. He's courageous, selfless, a good friend and boyfriend to you. He sticks up for the little guy and will never hesitate to defend people against the bullies of the world.

He's also a celebrity of sorts; after helping fight the Nazis and Hydra in World War Two, he's a historical hero. You and him sometimes like to visit the history museum in New York. He's usually telling war stories or accompanying schools on field trips. Today, the two of you are picking up some of his belongings that the museum felt wasn't necessary for them to keep.

One of said things was a teddy bear his mother, Sarah, got him when he was born. It was golden brown in color and had movable limbs. The fur is mohair and there's a light blue ribbon tied around its neck. Steve said he simply called it Bear, and it was his companion until he decided he was too big for it after a couple of kids bullied him for still playing with it. Luckily Sarah still kept it, and after she died Steve reunited with his dear friend. And now, they were reunited once more.

"I haven't seen this thing in forever," Steve said with a big smile as he looked it over. He pointed to the tag on its bottom. "Look- it still has my name sewed on the tag." You grinned and gently petted the stuffed animal's fur.

"Yeah it does. This is so cute, I'm glad they had it for you." Steve nodded as he looked it over some more before sighing.

"He's really showing his age, huh?" You had noticed that it wasn't in the best condition- it wasn't falling apart by any means, but like Steve said you could tell it's age by looking at it. You nodded with a shrug.

"Yeah, but he is over a hundred years old. It's in pretty good condition considering- Like you." You said playfully as Steve chuckled.

"Thank you, honey. You're right, I'm glad ma always told me to look after my things." He placed the bear in the trunk of his car before he drove the two of you back home.

🧸

Later that evening, Steve's friend Bucky came over for you guys' weekly movie night. It was important for you that you got along well with Steve's friends, and Bucky quickly became one of your best ones.

At the knock on the door you grinned and hurried to open it. "Hey, Buck!" You hugged the man who returned the gesture with a smile.

"Hey! How are you doing?" He stepped into the house and took a look around.

"Not too bad. Steve is in the bathroom, he'll be out in a sec. We got snacks and drinks ready, want me to bring it out?"

"Oh yeah sure, I'll help." He offered and followed you into the kitchen. On the way in you two passed the entertainment center where the bear sat. Bucky did a double take and stopped in his tracks.

"Hey, what's this? It's new." You hummed and looked over to where he was.

"Oh, that's Steve's old teddy bear. The museum had it and we picked it up this afternoon." Bucky nodded and picked said bear up to look it over.

"Oh yeah, I remember this. Steve loved it, he brought it everywhere with him. I remember when he was feeling well enough to play in the snow, he'd bring this with him to ride along." He spoke fondly of those old times and it made you smile.

"It's too bad there isn't some sort of antique stuffed toy repair shop. I know they have them for other things." Bucky spoke again and you shrugged.

"You never know, there might be." Finally, Steve came out and Bucky set the toy down to greet his friend. You brought the snacks and drinks out, but kept a little sticky note in the back of your mind.

🧸

That night when Steve went to sleep you snuck out of your shared room and opened your laptop. After searching around online you came across a "stuffed animal hospital," which was a place that took in old stuffed animals and repaired them back to how they were before- or at least as close as possible. This particular one specialized in vintage toys just like Steve's.

You picked a time when Steve was especially busy with work to send the bear away for reparations. He would be going away on a mission for a few weeks so you figured it would be a nice surprise for him to come home to.

"I'm going to miss you, Stevie. Be safe, please." You whispered as you hugged him. He held you close to his body as his hand ran up and down your back.

"I'll miss you too. And I promise I will. I'll text you whenever I can." He promised with a sweet kiss to your lips. He left soon after, and when you were sure he was long you headed for the post office.

🧸

A few weeks later you came home from grocery shopping, carrying all that you could to avoid taking two trips to the car. As you made your way to the front door you saw a package waiting for you. The address was from the stuffed animal hospital and you gasped excitedly. You quickly put all your groceries away before going back to grab the box and bring it inside.

You were going to open it then, but figured that it would be more special to watch Steve open it himself. With a wistful sigh you put the package in your closet. Luckily Steve was due home that night, so you wouldn't have to wait too long.

Keeping that in mind, you got busy with making a big dinner for you and Steve to enjoy, knowing how hungry he always was after coming home from a long mission.

Later that night, at around 9pm, the door opened and you heard the heavy footsteps of Steve. You ran out to him and flung your body into his arms. Steve chuckled fondly and held you close to him.

"Hey, babydoll, I missed you." He spoke softly into your hair, his hand smoothing up and down your back. You inhaled his scent and nuzzled into him.

"I missed you too. I have some of your favorite foods ready, why don't you get cleaned up and I'll get us some plates ready?" He kissed your cheek and nodded.

"You're the best, thank you. I'll be out in a sec." He smiled and went to the bathroom, and you plated all the food.

After the two of you finished eating, you stood up with a smile. "I have a surprise for you." Steve raised an eyebrow curiously.

"You do? You never have to get me anything, honey, you know that." You waved his comments away and walked over to where he was seated to kiss his head.

"I know, but I wanted to. I think you'll really like this, hold on." You held up one finger and ran off to the bedroom where the unopened package was. You picked it up and brought it back out to the living room and called out to Steve to join you in the room. Once he was seated in his recliner you put the package in his lap.

"Do I get any hints?" He asked playfully as you handed him a pair of scissors. He sliced the box open and you could barely contain your excitement.

"It has to do with your bear. Just open it!" He couldn't help but chuckle at you and finally opened the box up. Inside was the repaired bear, looking even better than when he had first gotten it. There was also a handwritten letter from the person who did the repair saying how honored they were to work on Captain America's childhood toy.

"Oh honey… You did this? I didn't even know this was a thing." You sat on the arm of his recliner and leaned into his side. His eyes sparkled as he picked up the bear.

"I didn't either. Bucky made me think of it though, turns out it's fairly popular. It's not just stuffed animals either, but dolls and other toys. I wanted to do something special for you." You went to kiss his cheek but Steve turned his head to press his lips right to yours. The two of you shared a sweet and tender kiss before he pulled away to speak.

"This means so much to me, thank you. I have the best girl in the entire world." With that he scooped you up into his lap as you laughed happily. The bear was moved to sit on the coffee table as you and Steve kissed once again.

[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.

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

One Night Only 2, Part 5

Dedicated to @muse-of-mbaku and I should've been did this a long time ago. I sowwy. Word Count: 5,290

Warnings: Softboi!Erik, Smut

Erik blinks slowly before touching his locs in a reaction that has come to mean he's not completely sold on your idea or thought process and you should think it through. "Aight so.. your plan is to fly Corey out here to the house to force him to talk to Anaya, but you say he ain't tryna see her or be around her for more than, what, ten seconds..," Erik's brow wrinkles.

"It's because he's emotional," you sigh shaking your head flippantly. "He cries easily when it comes to her and Anthony. Then he feels like a babyback bitch so he doesn't want anyone to see that side of him, but that's just how much he loves her. Which is why he needs to talk to her face to face," you gesticulate. "So I just need you to talk to him and convince him to come here because he might listen to advice coming from another quote-unquote alpha male."

He licks his lips, brow furrowing. "Watch yourself," his eyes twinkle. You offer your hand in relent.

"Chill moe. He's stubborn is all I mean, but that's another reason you could talk to him, y'all have that in common," you cheese. His brows go up in playful warning before you get serious again. "No, but you know as well as I do they belong together. They know it too, they just need to be reminded. I can't handle both of them, I can only hold one at a time. If one walks away I need you there to keep the other from leaving."

"Oh, like that?" He leans back on his elbows looking up from the bed at you as you plot your intentions.

"Bro, like that. Hopefully it doesn't come down to it, but knowing Anaya's temper and Corey's level of petty, it might."

Pulling out his phone. He dials a number and puts it on speaker. It rings twice before Corey's lazy voice picks up.

"They done got to you bruh?"

"My girl sad cuz your girl sad and it's cuz'uh you. Bring ya ass and fix it... Tired of this shit."

"Niggas got work."

"Not no more, we all held up off our schedules for this hoe shit. Get on a plane, you know the address. Don't make me have to come get you."

"Oh you tryna hoe me now? That's cool then, buy me another pair of sneakers when you touch down, bitch."

"Nigga fuck you," Erik's face scrunches.

"Since we hoein' an'shit.. yup. Hit my cash app. Have my gift in hand or be prepared to get that ass beat. Give a fuck if you a rapper nigga."

Just as you're about to step in because the conversation is getting way out of hand, you shut your mouth.

"Whatever bitch, you heard what the fuck I said. Get here," Erik mumbles.

"I said I'm coming, damn."

Corey hangs up and Erik balances the phone in his palm looking at the screen before turning his attention back to you. You don't know what the hell kind of communication that was, but if that was how they communicated, it had nothing to do with you.

"He'll be here.. What you gon' tell Anaya?"

"ANAYA ALREADY HEARD," a muffled voice fogs through the wall. Her room is a few doors away but she is nosey as hell in the next room. Erik's hard squint toward the wall only rips the sputtering snicker roughly from your lips. He's not used to people being nosey in his house.

"My bad," you almost snort when he wipes the particles from his face and stares at his hand like how dare you spit on him. "Stop, it's not poisonous. Lick it," you prompt pushing his hand to his face. He turns away like a baby not wanting the food you're pushing but he doesn't do that when he's kissing you. He leans backward on the bed seemingly to avoid you, but you see where this is going. You climb on top of him and like you suspected, he grips your ass with his free hand while you wrestle with his other thick hand trying to force it near his mouth as he snickers. You have every intention of playing along with his game. "LICK IT," you yell pushing his wrist as he tilts his head. You can feel him getting semi-hard beneath you.

"There are children in this house," Anaya yells through the wall.

"They ain't mine," Erik yells back before flipping you so that he's on top. The sloppiest kiss is what follows and then two chaste ones on your tongue since you refuse to put it back in your mouth.

"What you wanna do about the leaked number," he asks pulling back. You'd already gotten it changed, but you didn't know who posted the number onto twitter in the first place. If it wasn't Armont it had to be a business contact. You doubted it was anyone really close because they could've done it at any point and this seemed like too late in the game for bullshit like that to occur. You hadn't even seen the tweet in question though.. and you'd searched your name and your fan created hashtag #y/ngang.

"I just want to know who did it so I can move on without being paranoid. I can't even find the tweet they said was posted. I think it was deleted," you admit.

"You know damn well shit don't just disappear on the internet," he mumbles sitting up completely to dial another saved number and putting the phone on speaker. "Erik," the voice greets in a professionally chipper tone. "Quentin," Erik responds dully. "My girl's number was leaked on social media and that's a problem for me."

"Safety concerns, I get it," Quentin offers. "Shouldn't be too hard to figure things out. Did she change her number? That's the first thing I'd recommend."

"Yeah she got a new number, but I still need to know who's responsible for this leak or she can't give her new number out like she needs to. It's affecting her career and her lifestyle therefore it's a serious issue for me, you feel me?"

"Oh absolutely! Uhh, what is her account handle? I can check things out and call you back."

Erik gives him the necessary information and hangs up. "That's two problems. What was the third one? The babysitter. What she do?"

"Erik, I was disgusted," you sit up before recounting the situation of child neglect and catching the chick in your closet wearing your clothes. When you'd checked your closet it was clear she'd tried on multiple dresses and even sprayed your Dolce perfume a few times. It wasn't that you were hung up on these material items so much as the principle. She shouldn't have been in your stuff. She didn't know you and you didn't know her. "So not only had she not fed or cleaned up Anthony.. been all up and through my shit.. but when I kicked her out she ain't wanna leave immediately. I had to go downstairs and then I heard the door close like I'd scared her or something. What the fuck?"

He shakes his head unsure of what to say. "She lucky it was you who caught her and not me. She ain't mess with my shit wonder why?"

"I don't know but she weirded me out. Courtney, who we have now hasn't tried anything like that so far."

"Well you fired the other bitch and she ain't been back so things should be alright now."

"You right," you sigh letting it go. "Charge it to the game."

"That's right," he says rising and adjusting his dark grey joggers over his black briefs. "Was that it?"

"Yeah, I didn't expect you to stop and handle everything right now but--"

"Why wait," he interrupts, "Procrastination never helped anything."

"Facts.."

"I'll be in the gym," he calls over his shoulder as he shuffles from the room. Well.. that's that then. You'll just wait now to see what happens.

---

"Use your fans to track it down. Somebody gotta screenshot," Anaya says as she's beside you in the home studio spinning in a rolling chair. You've gotten far off the task of messing around with the sound of instruments for the fifth possible track on your album.. that is, if you don't switch it with the seventh track. Anaya was supposed to be telling you which order was better, but she was on her phone and deaf to the world around her. "You know what, I'll do it so your name doesn't have to get tied to it."

"Thank you because I'm not trying to dig myself deeper into anything stupid. I let my servants do the dirty work for me," you tease.

"BIIIITCH," Anaya rears ready to flame before getting distracted again.

"You got ADD," you comment. She's hooked to that phone.

"You got a nappy ass kitchen," she quips without looking up causing you to flinch at the quickness of the comeback. You feel on the hair at the back of your neck ready to come back at her but trying to find something else. "I'm a mom of a one year old boy, it's a requirement that I know how to multitask. I'm posting now trying to get some info. Hashtag Y/N. Hashtag who has those digits. Hashtag Y/Ngang. Hashtag.... wait. I just had a thought," her head shoots up. Her chair stalls.

"What if it's a page that doesn't like you?!"

"Who doesn't like me? It's me." Pft.

"But if someone's hating on you they don't see you," Anaya gestures to your general area, "They just see a generic image. Some bitch who has everything they want in life."

"I don't... hm.. damn, I do have everything..," you pause, "..but I've worked for it. It wasn't easy."

"You have."

"I may not deserve every good thing that comes--"

"Don't start that doubting shit," Anaya interrupts, her index going crazy to emphasize each point. "You deserve it. You worked for it. Anyone in your ass about it can catch these hands."

"I love it when you talk violent," you tease biting your lip.

"You so stupid. Shut the hell up," her eyes roll. "ANYWAY. I say we create a fake account but make it a hate page and talk shit. Then reach out and see what people are talking about you."

It's a good idea. You hang behind Anaya's shoulder as she creates a throw away email and a fake Twitter account handing you her phone. Instantly, you start hammering out tweets.

@ Y/N give it up, singing is not your ministry sis

People say Y/N is attractive. Okay, but consider seeing an optometrist?

If I have to hear her sing off key one more time I'm cutting my ear off like Van Gogh

"Done," you say handing the phone back to Anaya. She sputters and almost drops the phone. "What the hell," she cackles.

"What? That's the type of thing a hater would say. I've seen things like that said about me before. You've seen it too."

"Okay, but you got them beat in originality," she chuckles spinning in her chair. "Okay so let's search up the hating tags and.. here's an interesting account. There are about three, four, five.. nine tweets about you in this tag from one account. I BET they'd know something. I'm messaging them about my hate for you right now."

You stand over her shoulder to watch the screen as she sends the DM.

"They probably won't resp- Damn that was quick," she mumbles. The minutes slip away as you watch Anaya type back and forth, bullshit to this person on the other side of the screen who seems to absolutely hate every fiber of your being. You expected passive aggressive anger where they'd say something and then move on, but no. It's been twenty minutes and they haven't begun to talk their shit it seems.

And Killmonger doesn't even love her. I heard that he's gone all the time and they're not really together, it's just a publicity stunt so she can profit from his image since she lacks talent of her own.

"What the fuck....," you stare at the messages that keep popping up. Lowkey it's kind of bothering you, the passion and the time that they dedicate to hating you. Also, who is clocking Erik's schedule to know when he is and is not home?

Ooh tea? I need sources, Anaya responds with the eyes emoji. She's linked to a tea page with a discussion board consisting of twenty eight pages of back and forth chat, as well as pictures and videos of you.

What the hell....

For a bunch of people who claim to hate you, they spend a lot of time being hyperfixated on you. They look like fans. On page four there's the screenshot in question taken from Twitter and reposted with laughing emojis and various people saying that they called just to call you a bitch and hang up. Of course, you know for a fact that was a lie, you hadn't answered.

The poster of the tweet exposing your number seems to be a different account than the one you and Anaya have been chatting to. Anaya looks up the account and it's still activated, they've just taken down the tweet although they still talk shit. It's like a rabbit hole.

Anaya takes all the screenshots she can and stretches her thumb out before copying the links. You'll have to give them to Erik to pass to that guy he spoke with on the phone or get his number from Erik when he finishes his workout.

---

Over the next few days, you work only on your music in the home studio and in the recording studio where your team gathers. It's a lot of tedious work and a lot of trying different things, but it also feels good to be doing what you love. Erik is Erik.. consistently busy and everywhere and that's fine because you know you'll see him when Corey comes. Anaya has been enjoying the house, lounging and playing with Anthony while Courtney the new sitter has been stepping in mightily to give her breaks.

The day finally comes when your phone lights up with a message from Corey to say he's on the ground in LAX and taking a car. That means he'll get to your place in an hour. You check the time and call Anaya who's out back with Anthony playing in a plastic pool Courtney brought over to let Anthony splash in. You let her know she has an hour to prepare herself for whatever's about to happen. She just says okay. Then you call Erik. Corey gave him the heads up a long time ago it seems.. so he's already on his way home. Turning back to the computer before you, you put your Drop headphones back on and continue to edit your vocals for the track six, deciding it's missing something. Angling the Shure mic on the table, you speak a sentence and fade it into the next recorded verse.

You almost jump out of your skin when Erik drops his hands on your shoulders, laughing at your reaction.

"When you start rapping?"

Your heart thuds as you remove your headphones and check the time. Fourty minutes seems like ten when you're working.

"That's my greeting? Let's do this again. I'll walk out and come back. This time put a little more love in your reception."

You watch amused as he walks back out looking back at you repeatedly. He peaks his head in before sauntering into the room and approaching you. You stand and meet him half way hugging him before smoothing down his beard gently.

"Now that's better. Thank you," he mumbles bumping your nose with his and walking to the screen where you've been working on your project. "Can I hear what you have?"

"Of course." You want him to hear everything you have so far but you have to show him when you both have the time. For now, you just play track six watching his face closely for any change in expression as he shakes his head gently to the rhythm. "What do you think?"

"It's not finished, but it's good.." He's really focusing on the individual sounds you can tell. "I like where it's going, but... Yeah, you'll figure it out," he nods cutting his commentary short. He's not feeling it, but he's not one to harp on negative things regarding you or at all really. He sees that you understand the song kinda sucks right now. You nod in response deciding that the song is nowhere near being complete as he said and suddenly you hear where parts could be smoother and words could be omitted. It also comes to mind to change the entire arrangement. "I think I got it," you smile.

"I know you do," he confirms, "You always figure it out."

Leaning your head onto his chest, you hug him again and he rubs your back. So you decide to go a step further and slip your hand under his white graphic button down. There's a black and white image of a big fearsome cat printed near the neck. You begin unbuttoning the shiny magenta buttons from the bottom. He did make the shirt look damn good. You peel it off of him and toss it over your chair, working on his slim black Louis belt then his black Levi's. Close the door, you remind yourself before scooting off to lock it.

Your cut off hoodie comes off in a lithe motion followed by your shorts and panties in another quick push. When you reach him, you each have the same idea simultaneously yanking each other roughly, clashing bodies. He's got you by the waist and the low bun and your nails sink deeply into the keloids of his biceps as you sink to the floor intertwined, his body under yours. Your head swings to the side and your body envelops his, covering him and like a second skin while you slide back and forth.

"Grab my dick.. Put me inside." He holds your hips in place while you reach under and grab his length, sliding the tip along your lower lips and slipping it into your cave. "Don't tease my shit, ride."

You sit with the dick inside, shallow, and make slow even rotations taking his hands from your hips and pinning them near his head. You tend to do this slowly and watch his patience deteriorate bit by bit. He doesn't speak again, but you watch his eyes fixed unblinking on yours as you continue your slow wind, smug.

You keep winding and then pause, realizing it's not giving you the feeling you want and are used to. He's not reacting the way you expected either. You wanted him to get frustrated and take that passion out on you but..

"That's it? Or did you wanna dry hump me too?"

"You're annoying."

"Nah, I just wondered how long you'd do that knowing it wasn't hitting shit for you or me. Did you have fun?"

Planting your hands on his chest you push from your knees to the balls of your feet and bounce up and down taking him deep the way he likes it. It's mildly painful, but also very pleasurable. This is the position that changes his tune. If he's mad, you can always hit this position in the bedroom and soon he's back to singing your praises. A little clit stimulation and you'd be closer to coming too. Reading your mind, his fingers swipe his tongue and then reach to rub your small nerve bundle in the way you love.

"Bounce it, gimme all that."

You go as long as you can, taking the pounding in stride no matter what.. until your knees give from the fatigue and your body gets weak from the pressure of your building orgasm. You decide to ride, rocking against him from on your knees. You're close.

"Faster," he whispers, a hard quick slap to your ass. Oh shit.. You go faster until your body gives you that jolt like you're about to cum. "Wait what you doing," he panics suddenly.

"Reverse cowgirl." Giving yourself a quick and slick break, you have to pause to turn around, but you manage to keep the dick in and start back riding building your speed. Reaching down, you grab his balls gently to force him closer to orgasm. He moans a little when you play with them and you continue until he grips your legs.

"You tryna make me nut first."

"What was your first clue," you smirk giving his sack a mild tug forcing him to cuss sharply. He likes this.. and so do you. You want him to cum and after two more well timed pulls, the white creamy fluid shoots inside you.

---

"I missed this," he pants, his minty breath on your ear as you claw his back and bite your lip, your knees high on either side of his large body.

"I'm coming," you breathe letting the electric current cause your body to shake and jolt. When you finally calm down some, he pulls out and you pant quietly while he lays beside you. A glass of water at this point would be great. Swallowing, you sigh big. "It's a shame Corey had to come to bring you back home to me," you pout. His kryptonite. He kisses his teeth.

"You know I got a lot I be doing," he whispers but you're not truly upset with him and he knows that. You know better than to fault him for his career and interests. He never did that to you.

"I forgive you. You're here now," you smile seeing the warmth in his almost black eyes.

"I ASKED YOU A SIMPLE QUESTION," Corey's voice yells so loudly that it carries to where you are. You check the time realizing you'd done forgot all about him. Shit, shit shit. Scurrying, you pull on all your clothes piece by piece and Erik stands leisurely putting his clothes back on but leaves the shirt unbuttoned and his sneakers off and on the floor.

Following the shouting, you walk out into the hall and see Corey outside of the guest room facing the doorway. Anaya's calm angry voice is loud now too.

"And I don't have to answer the way you want me to. I answer the question how I answer it and you take what I say as what I mean. I mean exactly what I said," she asserts loudly. You get close enough to lay eyes on them both and you notice baby Anthony on the bed sleep. How he could sleep through all the yelling was beyond you. Must be used to it.

"...I'm a ask you one mo' damn time," Cory points walking into the room straight up to Anaya with two fingers, almost pushed into her face. She doesn't budge knowing he knows better than to put them any closer. He's not that reckless afterall.

"What's the question," you yell cutting in with a hand between the angry couple. Anaya's eyes go straight to you, her hand flying up in exasperation.

"He keeps asking me if I'm FUCKING anyone at WORK.. I don't know how many fucking ways to say no. Do I need to sing it in a song because words don't penetrate."

Gaping, you flatten your hand in the air and lower it signaling her to come down a notch. Few times have you ever seen her this angry. Her lips purse and her eyes shift briefly before her head tilts and her foot swings on its heel. She's trying.

"Corey. Back the hell up," you say slowly pushing your hand forward to gesture he should step back. He takes two quick dramatic steps back, shrugs, and crosses his arms. "Show me the picture," you prompt moving closer to him and watching his phone screen when he takes it out. It looks like a woman who looks like Anaya and it does look like she's on her knees and her head is obstructed by a mans ass and groin area though his pants are up.... it doesn't look good. His fly could be down... He's got one hand in front of him because on camera you can't see it. It looks like he could be palming her head. "Um.. wait. Neither of y'all say a word to each other. I need to examine this."

How can you tell Corey that the photo is a lie when you'd think the same thing as him seeing the photo with no context. Anaya said she was picking stuff up from the floor, but the photo is cropped so there's no proof. But there's also no concrete, hardcore evidence that Anaya is lying.

"She wouldn't do something like this especially in public," you say aloud looking at every detail you can and zooming on the photo.

"No offense, Y/N, you like a sister to me for real, but no one figured you for sex in public with niggas you barely know but look how that turned out. How am I supposed to be sure? I'm just supposed to accept that she just might be cheating on my ass and that's supposed to be okay? I gave everything to this fuckin relationship I can't st- Man, shit." He made it halfway to the door before Erik blocked it.

"For starters, fuck you," you glare. "Second, look at you right now acting like a bitch. You always forcing me to do some shit saying I need to boss up? Yeah, it's your turn to face your relationship head on. Put your big boy pants on. Stop being a BITCH."

"You call me a bitch one more time," he points.

"And you'll do what," you challenge stepping closer.

"Pluck you in that bigass sixhead. Sit ya ass down."

"I wish you would! You lucky Anaya loves you, stupid ass. But you need to trust her! Anyone who gets accused constantly like that and not believed would be mad. You're basically calling her a hoe. How long is she supposed to hear that she's a hoe from you?"

"Maybe don't do hoe-ish shit," Corey snarks narrowing his eyes with sarcasm. You can feel Anaya's rage behind you building. It's a concoction of anger, frustration, pain, and annoyance. This is cutting her deeply to her core.

"Corey... Do you honestly think that lowly of her?" Your own heart is shredding at this point and heavy.

"I don't think lowly of her, I still love her... I still love you and shit," he says to her now, "But goddamn I don't know what to do. I always felt like some nigga would come along and try to take my place.. I tried to do everything so you wouldn't feel a need to go to no other nigga for nothing and then I hear that you suckin dick in the office and y'all messing around. Bitch sends a damn PICTURE. What would you do with that? You'd leave my ass. Lie and say you wouldn't. Lie and say you wouldn't!"

"Get out my face," Anaya sighs.

A loud smash steals the attention of the room and it wakes the baby who looks confused and a little scared before going back to sleep. There is Erik with a stack of plates. You hadn't noticed he'd left. One plate is shattered on the floor from hitting the wall.

"We taking this downstairs." Erik's eyes narrow and he turns leaving the room. You see Anaya look to Anthony who's sleep again and the three of you head downstairs after Erik finding him in the middle of the living room. He hands a plate to Corey. "Smash it," he commands. Corey eyes him, feeling the weight of the plate in his hand and staring at the wall before throwing the plate.

"FUCK," he yells throwing his arms and stretching them.

"Feels good," Erik nods handing Anaya a plate. He doesn't have to tell her. She smashes it and then another one, her body dropping the tension, arms going slack and hanging. It's so sudden when she starts sobbing, you're shocked but you rush in to hold her as she let's loose on your shoulder, shaking.

"Regardless of what the pictures show... This the mother of your child," Erik speaks, his eyes on Corey whose arms are over his head like he's trying to stay standing. "This is the one who takes care of your home, feeds your child. This is the one you decided to marry. Till death do you part. Y'all ain't dead," he shrugs. "Neither are your feelings for each other apparently."

You can't see Corey's face but you can hear him sniffling and see his hand moving constantly to wipe at his face and he groans like he's frustrated at himself for crying.

"Y'all gonna get over this. It won't be easy. But you both need to." He's looking at Anaya now and he touches her shoulder gently not taking her from your embrace. His voice comes out lowly and it's so warm and kind it's comforting you as well and you're not even the target. "Now you know this damp ass nigga be crying himself to sleep to Jodeci. You got the type of nigga to sing Frank Ocean to a picture of you, thinking bout you.. You really finna let that go? ....When you know he luh you that much?"

Her sobs have slowed and her breathing has begun to even. He turns back to Corey.

"Y'all are meant to be together.. People gonna test to see if they can get between y'all.. Don't let em," he nearly whispers. "I stay getting DMs saying my girl been with hella other niggas in the industry."

"Hold up, what DMs," you murmur looking over. Not to ruin the moment. But what DMs??

"--other niggas who ain't got a pot to piss in," he adds.

"Who is sending these DMs," you ask a bit louder.

"I even seen shit photoshopped to look damn realistic... but I trust her. She ain't give me a reason not to. Even if she did, I'm not giving her up that easy. NOOO," he frowns. "That's mine. She stuck with my ass."

"Ok but can we go back to who is working so diligently to craft such ridiculous lies? Can we get that info?"

"Y/N.... Shut up. This ain't about you. See that?" He turns back to Corey. "How long it take y'all to be comfortable and real with each other like that? Love when you reach a certain point.. it ain't always worth starting all the way the fuck over. Some relationships ain't meant to be, true. But it took Y/N to come along and teach me that there will be someone in your life worth fighting and dying for and nigga.. you got two. Don't fuck this up. This small shit. Look at this girl, how in love she is witcha ugly ass.. You see that shit?"

A moment passes and Corey approaches you and Anaya slowly, locking eyes with you and requesting permission to Anaya which you grant. Carefully you pull back and let Corey take your place holding her. She starts to cry again and this time he's rubbing comforting circles on her back and rocking her gently. Erik tilts his head giving you the sign to go with him upstairs leaving them alone and the two of you silently make your exit.

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[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.