#i’m not used to being quite this volatile

[mars-ipan]

HEY ! people who get mood swings. what are some of your tips and tricks for regulating those

[roguishcat]

A welcome distraction

Summary: Astarion was not nice. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning. But perhaps, given the right incentive, he could be persuaded to be nice to the one person who he felt deserved it most.

Tags: Fluff, tooth-rotting fluff

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

One-shot, 2.3k words

Set in the beggining of Act II.

Astarion stretched out languidly on Tav’s bedroll, watching her as she looked through their magic trinkets to decide which ones they could do without. Ever since Gale came to her, confessing everything, telling her of his folly, Tav has taken extra care to set aside an item or two that the wizard could consume.

Now, if this was done out of sense of self-preservation, that would be completely understandable. It would be quite unfortunate for that orb in his chest to get so volatile it would just explode at random. Such a waste that would be. The world would lose its most beautiful creature! And just as he was starting to enjoy his freedom! And he supposed the wizard had his uses too.

Astarion blinked slowly and sighed. As nice as it was to have no one try to murder them for a change, he was getting bored. And his favourite source of entertainment seemed to have no time on her hands for him.

And that just wouldn’t do.

He moved closer to Tav and lifted his hand to rest on her head, running his fingers through her hair and then lower down to caress the exposed skin of her neck. Astarion knew that he was distracting her, that was the whole point of the gentle, feather-light touches that made goosebumps rise on her exposed arms. And when that garnered no reaction, Astarion lifted himself up to press his chest against her back, snaking his arms around her middle.

“Darling,” he said smoothly, kissing her shoulder, making a move to lift her shirt enough with insistent hands to expose skin and trace slow patterns just above her hipbones, “don’t you think it’s time for a break?”

“As nice as that sounds, I still have to go through all the scrolls and potions.”

“Nice? I can’t promise anything that uninspired,” he scoffed. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning.

“Something wicked, however,” he drawled, his lips almost touching Tav’s ear “that I could definitely provide.”

“Well, as delicious as that sounds, I’m not moving until I get this done. But perhaps you could help?”

“Tsk, you are no fun,” he pouted, lifting a necklace with the tip of his finger. ��What’s this one supposed to do?”

“Let me just check… Misty Step.”

“Keeping it,” he would have squirreled it away earlier, but a part of him felt a sick sort of dread at taking something without waiting for permission first. It was almost like a reflex more than anything. Not to take without permission, lest he be punished.

“If you want,” Tav shrugged with a smile. “Put it into your pile, it’s that one.”

Astarion inwardly preened when he noted it was one of the bigger piles. He spied a bow and two rings perched on top of a set of armour. He supposed getting nice new things was worth an hour of boredom.

It was still a novel concept. Having things of his own. Being given what he needed or simply wanted with no strings attached. And it wasn’t just him that got such treatment. Tav tried her best to make sure that everyone was taken care of to the best of her ability.

Astarion would probably never admit it unless faced with decapitation, but Tav has really started to grow on him. The pleasant manner in which she carried herself, the ferocious way in which she fought, the unwavering loyalty to those she considered friends.

That was yet another novel concept, having friends.

 “Darling, I can’t help but notice that you didn’t choose anything for yourself.”

“I don’t need anything right now.”

That was a lie. Her armour breathed its last when they went up against the goblins to protect the Grove. She could definitely use a new pair of boots too.

“As sweet as you are for thinking of others before yourself, I would rather you not become a pincushion next time we are ambushed. Here,” he picked a set of armour at random, “take this.”

“And Shadowheart will have to do without, I suppose?” she raised an eyebrow.

“She’s a cleric. She can heal herself,” Astarion gave a nonchalant shrug. He didn’t care much about what happened to Shadowheart.

Tav laughed, making something warm and pleasant bloom in his chest. He hated how much he enjoyed hearing her laugh.

“Well, this armour is a bit too heavy for me anyway,” she put the armour back and added a couple of scrolls that Shadowheart could make use of. “Maybe I will pick something up next time we need to sell stuff.”

She was right. They did amass quite a collection of useless nick knacks when they looted the abandoned houses in the Blighted Village. And lugging all the bits and bobs that Tav insisted on taking with them was getting rather tedious. Not that he carried much personally. However, he imagined if Lae’zel caught onto him having the lightest load, the gith would personally make sure that his pack would be stuffed to capacity.

Except when they went to sell the items, she once again did not buy anything for herself. Astarion could not understand her ridiculous altruism! Not that he cared that much, but still. Tav dying would most definitely throw a wrench in his plans. Therefore, with that in mind only, he bought Tav new armour, bow and boots.

Strange. The first time he spent money in years, and it wasn’t even on buying something for himself!

The next day, Tav woke up to find that someone had been to her tent. And that mysterious someone left her gifts. Brows furrowing, she picked up a pair of boots. They were clearly enchanted and probably not something they could afford at the moment. And that begged the question, who would splurge so much and not even give it to her personally?

She admired the armour and ran her fingers over the leather. As she shifted it slightly sideways to have a better look at the clasps, something sparkled in a stray ray of light that got in through the slight opening in the tent flap.

Tav noticed the necklace perched on top of the pile.

“Misty Step,” she murmured, a small smile tugging on her lips as her fingers ghosted over the rest of the gifts.

Changing and making herself somewhat presentable, she walked out of her tent and towards Astarion’s, greeting Gale as he prepared their breakfast. To their delight, the group recently stumbled upon a cellar filled with boxes upon boxes of food. Gale was especially pleased at having the opportunity to prepare proper meals for a change rather than have two or three odd ingredients to work with.

When Tav opened the flap of Astarion’s tent and walked in, the elf was already up and apparently deeply engrossed in his book, not even bothering to look up to greet her. Tav waited a beat, but Astarion pointedly refused to acknowledge her. Which Tav knew he had to be doing on purpose, because there was no way that he couldn’t hear her breathing and the staccato of her heartbeat as she grew more nervous by the minute.

Crouching by him, she put her hand on top of the page.

“Darling, as much as I enjoy your presence in my tent, you are distracting me from my reading.”

“I see. Good book?”

“It is. Absolutely riveting.”

She decided not to comment on the fact that he had already read this book twice, as they didn’t come across any new reading material that was of interest to Astarion.

“Help me put this on?” she smiled and handed him the necklace, holding her hair up and leaving her neck exposed, making Astarion’s mouth water.

“Tsk, can’t manage without me, darling?” he teased, but put his book aside.

“I can. But I’d much rather you did it.”

Gently, he slid the jewellery in its place, letting his fingers linger on her skin a touch longer than necessary and making Tav sigh contently.

“Thank you,” she pecked his cheek. “Thank you for looking after me.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. But perhaps come nightfall,” he leaned closer and all but purred, “I could look after you in a-”

“Astarion,” Tav put her fingers on his lips, “thank you.”

“Oh, please! You thought it was me? Darling! Giving you a necklace? Out of all mundane, unimaginative things to gift!”

Astarion inwardly kicked himself. What was he thinking, trading her smile for a blunt comment like that? It wasn’t the way he usually operated. It was counterintuitive, it was stupid. He was supposed to be furthering her attraction to him, so what in the hells was he doing by telling her that the gifts came from another?

“Mmhh, of course it couldn’t have been you,” Tav agreed easily, laying a tender kiss on the underside of his jaw and then another just below his ear, “so sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“I -I argh,” he shuddered as blunt teeth nibbled on his earlobe, “apology accepted.”

“So… who do you propose I should thank then?” Tav breathed against his cheek and then looked him in the eyes.

“Excuse me?” Astarion frowned as she moved away.

“Well, if it wasn’t you that left the armour, the necklace-

“And boots!” he interjected quickly.

“Ah yes, thank you for reminding me,” she nodded, running her hands down his arms to take his cool hands into her own. “Who should I be thanking instead of you, hm?”

“I know! It was probably Shadowheart,” she said with an air of someone having an eureka moment.

“Shadowheart?!”

“No, it couldn’t have been her,” she mused, letting go of his hand to tap a finger on her lips as she pretended to think hard. “Shadowheart didn’t come with us to the vendor. Must be Wyll then, he did comment on my boots being worse for wear.”

“Wyll just spent half the journey flirting with Lae’zel!” Astarion spat with distaste, sounding rather like a scandalised virgin gossiping about a debutante with a questionable reputation.

“True, true. Well, that leaves Gale. Unless it was the only other person who came with me yesterday…”

Astarion swallowed and pouted but didn’t say anything.

“How silly of me to assume it was you. I’ll let you get back to your reading. Off I go to give Gale a proper thank you.”

Tav rose and let go of his hand, making Astarion panic a little. Like hells Gale would be the one getting recognition for the nice thing that he did!

Rising quickly, Astarion grabbed Tav’s waist. She squealed when he spun her round roughly, pressing her body to his.

“You are not going anywhere, you cheeky pup,” he whispered against her neck, his cool breath making Tav shiver involuntarily and grasp onto his shirt.

“And since you insist on thanking me, I will graciously accept your gratitude.”

He was a benevolent creature, after all. And since Tav was in the mood to shower him with affection, he supposed he could allow it.

“Thank you,” she kissed his cheek.

“Thank you,” his forehead, just under an errant curl that fell over his eyes as he tilted his head forward.

“Thank you,” she pressed her lips to his, making Astarion groan as he deepened the kiss, one hand steadying Tav whilst the other travelled lower. He nibbled on her swollen, pouty lower lip, enjoying the delicious mewling sound she made and then-

“Breakfast is ready!” Gale’s voice rang jarringly loud from somewhere outside the tent, startling Tav. She withdrew with a sigh, looking more than a little disappointed at having to leave. Ever the dutiful leader, ready to start her day and selflessly brush aside her own wants and needs.

Astarion was having none of that.

“Where do you think you are going, hm?”

“Um, well..” Tav began, but found herself to be quite mesmerised with the heated, predatory look he was giving her.

“I haven’t had my breakfast yet, and I am feeling simply ravenous.”

He pulled the collar of her shirt aside, admiring the way the necklace rested against her skin and then his eyes travelled lower down still as Astarion mused about whether he was being too traditional by drinking from her neck when there were such tantalising, mouthwatering choices to be made.

“May I?” he murmured, trailing his nose against her collarbone, then lower and lower still, brushing against the necklace that rose and fell with her breaths. Astarion felt Tav’s fingers gently thread through his curls, skimming along his ears in a way that had him suppressing a moan.

“Yes.”

She always said yes. And recently rather than thinking her a fool for it, Astarion felt… something else. He couldn’t explain what it was that he felt even if he tried. But Tav was becoming more than a means to an end. More than a target. More than a night that was better to forget.

Weeks later, he would find that she was the light that illuminated the darkest recesses of his mind and soul. The warmth that welcomed and comforted him, preventing him from retreating into himself when he was hit with the horror of what he had done in his years of slavery. She would come to be the only person that he truly cared about. But he didn’t know that yet.

As he drank, Astarion decided that perhaps he would allow himself to enjoy whatever this was. Not overthink it. For now, he would let himself linger on the precipice of making the discovery of what exactly Tav was to him without worrying of what would happen once he fell.

For now, he would let himself enjoy not having to worry about what tomorrow would bring. For now, she would be his most welcome distraction.

💖 Tag list 💖:

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Called to Duty 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The bank is as ever anxiety inducing. On pay day, you go down to cash your check then give most of it right back, parsing it out for your various expenses. At the end of it, you have even less than the month before. You don't get it. Thing's only seem to get worse; not just money, but your body. Every day you wake up, you feel even more crummy than the last. 

Your hopes of a treat at the cafe are dashed. You give a longing look as you walk by and peer through the window. You can smell cinnamon and coffee. You're strict non-caffeinated, doctor's orders, but a decaf would be amazing with one of those cinnamon buns. Ugh, damn, why are you torturing yourself? 

You turn to continue down the street but barely dodge out of the way of another pedestrian. He makes sure you can't pass as he mirrors you, sidestepping to block your way. You sigh as you step back and look Sy in the face. For a big man, he sure can sneak up on you. 

"Hey," he flips up his dark sunglasses, "how're you feeling?" 

You stare up at him defiantly, not quite bold enough to glare. He hasn't done anything wrong, he's just persistent. It isn't his fault he reminds you of that spoiled deadbeat. Or that your emotions are volatile, one moment teary eyed, the next blazing hot with rage. 

"Fine, thanks for asking," you shrug, "Sy, I gotta--" 

"I owe you a cookie," he points to the cafe window at his shoulder. 

You blink. You remember the cracked shortbread. You forgot about that. The mention of the sugary treat makes your stomach growl and your mouth water. 

"No, you don't--" 

"I do," he insists, "I don't like to carry 'round debts. Let me buy you one." 

"I got it free," you say, "it's not a big deal." 

"It is to me," he counters, "I was heading in anyway." 

You stare at him. You really don't get this man. You're no longer so sure that Thor sent him to check up on you, not since your last interaction. In fact, the wingman seemed more spiteful of him than you. You look across the steeet to the pharmacy then back at him. The aromas wafting out with each swing of the door have you ravenous.  

"I can't stay long, I gotta work," you say. 

His cheeks twitch, as if he tamps back a smile before it can bloom, "after you." 

He gesture behind you to the door. You turn and lead the way. He reaches past you to open the door before you can and you enter ahead of him. The din within is lively and the air is warm from the crowd and the employees steaming out orders behind the counter. 

"Wanna find a seat?" He suggests, "you should rest." 

You open your mouth to argue but think better of it. You'd rather not stand in the clustered line. You nod and head off to claim the table by the window. There isn't much left. 

You pull out the chair and brace your back as you sit with a sigh. You glance over and find Sy watching you as he stands in the queue. His gaze makes you want to wilt, instead you turn your attention out the window. 

Not even Thor looked at you like that. Don't be silly. Sy is just being a dutiful guy, helping out the town slut in her time of need. You won't be duped. Not when you can hear your name being twisted on tongues at that very moment. 

You sit and wait, wring the strap of your small purse. You watch the street. If it wasn't for the people, Hammer Ford would be serene. 

A plate clinks in front of you and a porcelain mug as well. It isn't a cookie and you can smell the herbal tea's rosy flavour. You peer up at Sy as he gives an apologetic look. 

"Cookies are still baking so I got you a cinnamon bun," he says. 

"And tea?" You add. 

"Can't have one without the other," he says, "no coffee for you." 

"Yeah, I... I know." 

You could laugh. He suggested before he's been reading things about pregnancy. You just can't picture him with a copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.  

"Thank you," you smile as best you can. 

"Gotta get mine, be back," he excuses himself and marches back to the counter. 

You look down at the gooey iced draped spiral. You really shouldn't. Not only accept his misspent generosity but indulge in the excess sugar. Yet your hormones won't let you resist. You can at least wait until he's sitting down. 

He returns with a black coffee and a rather colourful donut. They don't match. Bitter and sweet all at once. He sits and takes off his hat and sunglasses. 

You put your purse to the edge of the table and rest your hand on your stomach, doing your best to resist the animalistic need to tear apart the dessert. His eyes follow the movement and you quickly drop your arm. You don't even think when you do it, it's just a habit. 

"You-" he begins. 

"Wh--" you find your voice at the same time. 

You both stop, hesitant. He nods and gestures to you, lifting his cup as he watches you intently. That's new too. Thor never listened much, only talked a lot. Besides, you weren't exactly together for the conversation. 

"Sy," you clear your throat and sit forward as much as you can, "why are you following me around?" 

His brows form a vee, "I'm... it's not... I'm tryna help." 

"Okay, but why?" 

His eyes flick up to the ceiling and his cheek ticks as he gives the question genuine thought. When he looks at you again, his face is set, "because I want to." 

"You want to?" 

"Yes, I'd like to take care of you. And the little one, if you'll let me." 

You can't help your snort, "we hardly know each other." 

"Isn't for lack of trying," he taps his fingers on his mug. "Aren't ya gonna try the bun?" 

"I will," you assure him. He's trying to distract you and it's close to working. The cinnamon is driving you mad. "A baby is a lot of work and... I'm not your responsibility. I know Thor is your friend." 

"Was," he interjects.  

"Sure," you accept his decisive declaration, "but that doesn't mean you have to worry about his mistakes." 

"Mistakes? I don't think so," he says. 

"Well, it's not exactly planned," you scoff, "Sy, really I don't feel right about you doing so much." 

"Wouldn't feel right not doing it," he shrugs his burly shoulders. 

“But why?” You nearly exclaim. You just want to know why he cares so much, about you? 

He leans forward, elbows on the table, “they talk about me too, ya know? Since I got back from... serving. They say I’m f—crazy, or whatever. It wasn’t easy or nothin’ over there but I’m not nuts. Not like they say. Just like you’re not some slut, forgive me for saying it out loud.” 

You look down at the table and exhale. So he hears as much as anyone else about you. At least he’s honest. At least he isn’t joining them. You purse your lips and reach for the cinnamon bun, unable to restrain yourself any longer. 

“For what it’s worth,” you raise your eyes to meet his, “I never thought you were... unwell, or whatever they say.” 

His cheeks pinch, another suppressed smile, and he tilts his head, “I’m only happy to hear you think of me.” 

[sam24]

String Beans and Goldfish

Summary: Defending someone who everyone hates is hard. Especially when you're standing in front of a bunch of gang members and Mr. Serpent Hottie won't stop staring at you.

Pairing: Sweet Pea x fem!reader

*****

As soon as you walked through the door, you felt the piercing gaze of 20 something pairs of eyes on you. There was only one that truly mattered, but you pushed down your weird volatile feelings and cleared your throat, stepping up to Jughead.

“What are you doing here?” He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were into gaming.”

You rolled your eyes with a scoff. “Sorry Jughead, I’m not here to join this fun little club you’ve got going on here. I’m here to talk to you guys.”

“See Jughead, she’s probably here to tell us how stupid our club sounds. Literally who’s going to believe this.” Fangs whined.

You avoided looking at Fangs, because you knew exactly who would be standing right next to him.

“Honestly, I don’t give a shit about your club. I just need to talk to you guys about Reggie.”

You heard a collective groan among them at the name of Riverdale High’s star athlete, infamous among the Serpents for being a complete asshole.

“Why? You here to defend that dick? You his girlfriend or something?”

Shit.

You looked to where the voice came from, although you knew exactly who it was. You made eye contact with him, his eyes, cold and proud, staring into you intently, waiting for an answer. There was an emotion rippling through his body that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Anger? Jealousy? Both?

Sweet Pea remembered the first time he saw you- the drag race. You were leaning against the truck Reggie was sitting on, your elbow resting on Kevin’s shoulder, looking annoyed as you squinted in the sun.

You had taken a sip out of Reggie’s red solo cup, making a disgusted scrunched up face before shoving the drink back into his hands.

Sweet Pea almost smirked from his place on his motorcycle next to Toni, but remembered he wouldn’t be caught dead smiling at a Northsider.

He couldn’t help but steal glances at you the whole time, and he for sure as hell could see you looking back at him.

The second time he saw you was on the Serpents’ disastrous first day at Riverdale High.

You were standing off to the side behind Kevin, trying your best not to cringe at Veronica’s enthusiasm and Archie’s uncomfiness. Sweet Pea wasn’t even listening to whatever Veronica was saying, instead eye-flirting with you the whole time.

You didn’t say anything when Cheryl and Reggie made their dramatic entrance down the stairs, apart from an audible groan and an eye roll. But, he did see you pull the sleeve of Reggie’s jacket back when he tried to storm up to Sweet Pea, a glint of warning in your eyes. Reggie immediately backed down, and Sweet Pea scowled at the sight, a string of jealousy pulling in his stomach.

He later learned you were in his World History fifth hour class. You and Cheryl walked in late, accompanied by Principal Weatherbee. Cheryl holding a rag to her bleeding nose, and a bruise forming on your knuckles, and your seat was coincidentally the one right next to the one he sat in.

”Damn you must be one hungry chick.” Sweet Pea watched as you pulled out yet another pack of goldfish.

“Thanks, string bean.” You smiled, trying your best to cover up the rapid beating of your heart. “It’s one of my best qualities.”

He raised his eyebrows with a smirk. “It’s actually Sweet Pea.”

“Well, Sweet Pea, maybe you should take me to Pop’s one time and I can show you much I can eat in one sitting.” You said with a wink, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

And before Sweet Pea could flirt back, Reggie stormed over, narrowing his eyes at Sweet Pea, threat clear in his eyes. Before he could throw out an insult, the teacher interrupted, loudly telling Reggie to sit down.

He grudgingly did, but he spent the rest of class glaring murderously at Sweet Pea. And of course, Sweet Pea flirted with you even more because of that.

And now you were here, at an undercover Serpent meeting trying to defend him.

That filled Sweet Pea with rage.

“Look, string- Sweet Pea. I’m not trying to make up excuses for him. I’m just trying to show you his side.”

“Those sound an awful lot like excuses, sweetheart.” Sweet Pea sneered.

You tried not to choke at the nickname.

“Look, Pea, I don’t want to get in the middle of whatever sexual tension is going on between you two, but how about we hear what she’s gotta say.” Toni tried to reason.

“Thank you.” You sent Toni a warm smile, ignoring the first part of her sentence, before facing the rest of them.

“Okay look. I know, Reggie is an asshole. But deep down . . . he’s actually still kind of an asshole- you know what, I have no clue where I’m going with this, lemme start over.” You said with the wave of your hand. “Reggie’s going through a lot right now. His dad- let’s just say he isn’t the best father.”

You paused, thinking how to phrase your thoughts. “He’s going through a lot of shit at home, and-”

“So? That gives him a right to treat us like shit? Tell Reggie to get over himself. Other kids get abused, doesn’t mean they go around acting like dickbags.” Sweet Pea snarled, venom dripping from his voice.

You narrowed your eyes at him, getting defensive. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying- honestly I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

You looked down at the floor, suddenly feeling stupid. You kicked at the tile, your converse skidding on the floor.

“I’ve known Reggie for a long time, and what I’ve accumulated over all this time is that Reggie is terrible with feelings. When he’s mad, he’s angry. When he’s sad, he’s angry. When he feels like shit, he’s angry. It may not seem like it, but he’s really hurting inside. So he thinks the solution is to take it out on other people. And you guys are the perfect target.” You got quieter, the previous anger in your voice turning into sadness.

Sweet Pea suddenly felt guilty for yelling, which was a feeling he rarely ever felt.

“Look, guys. If you want to beat him up, go for it, he honestly deserves it for being so terrible.” You took in a breath. “But try not to kill him, please. He’s my best friend.” Your voice went down to a whisper at the end.

The kid next to Sweet Pea rolled his eyes. “Please. Save the acting, bitc-”

He was quickly silenced by the thunderous slam of Sweet Pea’s palm onto the desk.

“Nevermind.” His jaw clenched.

Sweet Pea’s eyes stayed on the desk, but he caught the slight smile on your face. He was too proud to tell you that he’ll try to go easy on Reggie, just for you, but you understood.

And that was what made you special.

Before anyone could say anything, Reggie’s voice echoed in the hallway, calling your name.

“You should probably go before your boyfriend gets mad.” Sweet Pea muttered angrily, falling even deeper into the dark pit called jealousy.

You turned to walk out the door, but not before looking Sweet Pea dead in the eye.

”He’s not my boyfriend, string bean.”

[agirlnamedelia]

Unwanted Quirk Exchange - Part 2

The next day dawned far too early for your liking. The events of the previous day were still fresh in your mind as you dragged yourself out of bed, feeling the weight of Bakugou’s quirk thrumming beneath your skin. It was as if your body was a ticking time bomb, ready to go off at any moment if you weren’t careful.

The moment you stepped into the common area, you spotted Bakugou already up and dressed, his expression a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. His eyes flicked to you, and for a brief second, something like concern flashed across his face before it hardened into his usual scowl.

“Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled, not even bothering with a greeting.

You nodded, suppressing a sigh. “Good morning to you too, Bakugou.”

“Don’t start with me,” he snapped. “We’ve got work to do.”

The two of you made your way to the training grounds, where Aizawa was already waiting. He gave you both a brief nod, his eyes sharp as he assessed your condition.

“Today’s focus is control,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “You both need to understand the limits of the quirks you’ve inherited and how to push those limits without losing control.”

Bakugou let out a frustrated huff, crossing his arms. “This damn quirk doesn’t do anything unless someone’s hurt. How the hell am I supposed to train with that?”

Aizawa’s gaze didn’t waver. “Your task is to understand how the quirk functions, not just in combat but in a supportive role. Healing isn’t about destruction, it’s about precision. You’ll have to adjust.”

You watched Bakugou’s jaw tighten, but he nodded, albeit begrudgingly. You knew this was hard for him—he was used to relying on raw power, not finesse.

Aizawa turned to you next. “As for you, controlling Bakugou’s quirk requires not just physical strength, but mental focus. You need to understand the balance between releasing energy and holding back, or you’ll burn out.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. The explosive power inside you was wild and untamed, unlike anything you’d ever experienced. It was as if the energy itself was alive, constantly demanding release.

“Understood,” you replied, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice.

The training began in earnest, with Aizawa overseeing every move you made. Bakugou was tasked with practicing precision healing on small injuries—cuts and scrapes that Recovery Girl had created for the exercise. At first, he struggled, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to channel the healing energy. It was obvious that he found the process frustratingly slow compared to the immediate impact of his explosions.

You, on the other hand, were put through a series of exercises designed to help you control the volatile energy inside you. Aizawa instructed you to create small, controlled explosions, emphasizing the need to keep them contained and focused. It was easier said than done—every time you felt the power surge through your body, it took every ounce of concentration to prevent it from spiraling out of control.

Hours passed, and with each failed attempt, the frustration between you and Bakugou grew. He was used to being the best, the strongest, and now he was stuck with a quirk that required patience and care—qualities he wasn’t exactly known for.

As the afternoon wore on, Aizawa decided it was time for a break. He left you and Bakugou alone to cool off, but the tension between you was palpable.

“This is bullshit,” Bakugou muttered, pacing back and forth. “I’m a damn combat hero, not some—some healer!”

“You think this is easy for me?” you shot back, feeling your own frustration bubbling up. “Your quirk is like trying to hold back a storm! Every time I try to control it, it’s like it’s fighting me!”

Bakugou stopped pacing, turning to face you. His expression was a mixture of anger and something else—something you couldn’t quite place. “So what, you want to switch back right now? Because believe me, I’d love that.”

“It’s not like we have a choice, Bakugou,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “We have to figure this out, or neither of us is going to be able to do our jobs.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unresolved tension. Then, Bakugou spoke, his voice quieter than before.

“I’m not used to relying on anyone else,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the ground. “But this quirk... your quirk... it’s not something I can just power through.”

You were taken aback by his honesty. It was rare for Bakugou to admit any kind of weakness, let alone to you.

“I’m not used to this either,” you said, softening your tone. “But maybe... maybe we can help each other.”

Bakugou looked up at you, his eyes narrowing. “Help each other, huh?”

You nodded. “Yeah. We’re stuck with each other until we figure this out. So why not make the best of it?”

He didn’t respond right away, but after a moment, he let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. But don’t think I’m going to go easy on you.”

You couldn’t help but smile, despite the situation. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The next few hours of training went a little smoother. With the tension between you somewhat diffused, you found that you were able to focus more on the task at hand. Bakugou, while still frustrated, seemed to be making progress with your quirk, his usual intensity tempered by a newfound determination to understand it.

And you, after several failed attempts, finally managed to create a controlled explosion that didn’t immediately backfire. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

As the day drew to a close, you both were exhausted, but there was a sense of accomplishment that hadn’t been there before. You were far from mastering each other’s quirks, but you were making progress, however slow it might be.

As you and Bakugou walked back to the dorms, the tension between you had shifted. It wasn’t gone, but it was different now—less about frustration and more about a shared understanding.

“Tomorrow’s going to be even harder, you know,” Bakugou said, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “I know. But we’ll get through it.”

For a moment, Bakugou didn’t respond. Then, with a slight smirk, he added, “You’re tougher than you look.”

You chuckled, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie forming between you. “And you’re not as scary as everyone thinks.”

“Don’t push it,” he warned, but there was no real bite to his words.

As you reached the dorms, you paused at the entrance, turning to face him. “Thanks, Bakugou. For, you know, not giving up on this.”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he simply nodded. “Yeah. Just don’t slow me down.”

...

The next morning, you woke up with a renewed sense of determination. Yesterday had been grueling, but it was only the beginning. You knew Bakugou wasn’t the type to back down from a challenge, and now, neither were you.

You made your way to the training grounds, expecting to see Bakugou already there. Sure enough, he was pacing back and forth, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He glanced up as you approached, his eyes narrowing.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled.

“Good morning to you too, Bakugou,” you replied, a hint of teasing in your voice.

“Tch, let’s just get this over with,” he muttered, but there was no real venom in his tone. If anything, he seemed almost... eager. “I’m not letting you slack off today.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you said, rolling your shoulders to ease some of the tension. “So, what’s the plan?”

Bakugou crossed his arms, his brow furrowed as he thought. “We’re gonna push harder today. You need to get a better handle on my quirk, and I need to figure out how to make your damn healing work faster.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his determination. “Alright, then. Let’s do this.”

The training started off intense, with both of you pushing yourselves to the limit. You could tell Bakugou was holding back his usual criticism, focusing instead on guiding you through the intricacies of his quirk. He was surprisingly patient, correcting your form and offering tips on how to channel the explosive energy without losing control.

“Don’t think of it as a bomb going off,” he instructed, his voice surprisingly calm. “It’s more like... a controlled detonation. You control how much energy you let out and where it goes. Got it?”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the raw power surging through you. “Got it.”

After several attempts, you finally managed to create a small, controlled explosion without it blowing up in your face. The look of approval on Bakugou’s face was brief, but it was there.

“Not bad,” he admitted, crossing his arms. “Still a long way to go, though.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you replied, wiping sweat from your brow.

Bakugou grunted in response, then turned his attention to his own training. Watching him struggle with your quirk was a strange sight—it was so different from his usual explosive style. But he was persistent, refusing to give up even when the healing energy didn’t respond the way he wanted it to.

As the day went on, the two of you fell into a rhythm, working together to master each other’s quirks. There were moments of frustration, of course—Bakugou’s temper flared more than once, and you had to bite back your own irritation when things didn’t go as planned. But there were also moments of understanding, of silent communication as you both realized that this was about more than just training. It was about trust.

By the time the sun began to set, you were both exhausted, but there was a sense of accomplishment in the air. You had made progress—real progress—and it was something neither of you could deny.

As you sat down to catch your breath, Bakugou plopped down beside you, his usual scowl replaced by a more neutral expression.

“You’re not as useless as I thought,” he said, his voice low but not unkind.

You chuckled, leaning back on your hands. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Bakugou glanced at you, and for a moment, it seemed like he wanted to say something more. But instead, he just grunted and looked away.

The silence between you lingered, the air thick with unspoken words. You could sense Bakugou wrestling with something, his usual brashness replaced by a rare hesitation. It wasn’t like him to hold back, especially not when he had something to say. You waited, half-expecting him to snap out of it and bark another order, but instead, he remained quiet, staring off into the distance.

Finally, you broke the silence. “Bakugou, are you—”

“I’m not done with you yet,” he interrupted, his voice gruff. He turned to face you, the intensity in his eyes making it clear that whatever he was about to say, he meant it. “Don’t think just because you managed one good explosion, I’m gonna go easy on you.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his sudden shift back to his usual self. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He narrowed his eyes, clearly not appreciating your sarcasm. “Good. ‘Cause tomorrow, we’re stepping it up. You’re gonna control that quirk like it’s yours, got it?”

You nodded, your own determination mirroring his. “Got it. But what about you? How are you feeling with the healing quirk?”

Bakugou’s expression darkened, and he looked away, jaw clenched. “It’s... different,” he admitted, almost grudgingly. “But I’ll figure it out. Don’t need you worrying about me.”

“I’m not worrying,” you corrected, leaning forward slightly. “I just know it’s not easy, especially for someone like you. You’re used to power, to taking things head-on. Healing requires patience, a different kind of strength.”

“Tch,” Bakugou scoffed, though there was no real malice in it. “I don’t need a lecture. I just need to keep at it.”

You smiled softly, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. We’ll both keep at it.”

He met your gaze again, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual fire. “Don’t go thinking this changes anything. I’m still gonna be the one to master this first.”

You chuckled, standing up and stretching your arms. “We’ll see about that, Bakugou.”

He stood up as well, brushing dirt off his pants with a sharp motion. “You better be ready for tomorrow. I’m not holding back.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” you replied, your tone light but sincere.

Bakugou gave a curt nod, then started to walk away, his usual swagger back in full force. You watched him go, feeling a strange mixture of exhaustion and anticipation. This quirk exchange had been anything but easy, but you couldn’t deny that it had pushed you both in ways you hadn’t expected.

As you turned to head back to the dorms, you couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. Whatever it was, you were ready for it.

The next morning, you arrived at the training grounds to find Bakugou already there, as usual. His expression was set in a determined scowl, but there was something different in the way he looked at you—an intensity that went beyond his usual competitive nature.

“You’re late,” he growled, though you could tell he wasn’t actually mad.

“Good morning to you too, Bakugou,” you replied, your tone casual.

He didn’t respond to the greeting, instead jumping straight into the day’s training. “We’re starting with controlled detonations again. But this time, I want you to focus on precision. No more big blasts—you’re gonna make it small and controlled.”

You nodded, taking in his instructions. “Got it. And you?”

“I’m working on boosting the speed of your quirk’s effects,” he said, his voice clipped. “We don’t have time to wait around for it to kick in. If I’m gonna use it in a fight, it needs to work fast.”

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration for him. Even though he was clearly frustrated with the limitations of your quirk, he was still determined to make it work. It was that relentless drive that had made him one of the top students at U.A., and it was starting to rub off on you.

The training was intense, with both of you pushing yourselves to the limit. You could feel Bakugou’s eyes on you as you practiced, his gaze sharp and critical, but also... something else. Something softer, more concerned. It was subtle, but it was there.

At one point, after a particularly successful controlled detonation, you glanced over at him, expecting a harsh critique. Instead, he just nodded, his expression unreadable. “Not bad.”

You smiled, taking the rare praise in stride. “Thanks.”

Bakugou grunted in response, then went back to his own training. The rest of the session continued in much the same way, with both of you making steady progress. By the time the sun was high in the sky, you were both drenched in sweat, but the sense of accomplishment was palpable.

As you sat down for a break, Bakugou joined you, his usual scowl softened slightly by exhaustion. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared out at the horizon.

After a long moment, he finally spoke. “You’ve gotten better.”

You blinked, surprised by the admission. “So have you. Your control with the healing quirk is improving.”

“Still hate it,” he muttered, but there was no real heat in his voice.

You chuckled. “I figured as much. But you’re making it work.”

He glanced at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Don’t think this means I’m going soft. I’m still gonna crush you once we get our quirks back.”

You met his gaze, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Bakugou didn’t smile back, but there was a hint of something in his eyes—something that made your heart skip a beat. It was a look you’d never seen from him before, one that spoke of more than just rivalry or partnership. It was... something deeper.

Before you could dwell on it, he stood up abruptly, dusting off his pants. “Come on. We’ve still got work to do.”

You followed him back to the training area, trying to shake off the strange flutter in your chest. This was Bakugou, after all—intense, competitive, always ready to push himself and everyone around him to the limit. But as you watched him move with that raw, focused energy, you couldn’t help but notice something else.

He was... impressive. The way he approached everything with such determination, the sheer power he wielded even when limited by a quirk that wasn’t his own—it was hard not to be in awe of him. You’d always known Bakugou was talented, but seeing him adapt and overcome these challenges firsthand was something else entirely.

“Don’t just stand there,” he snapped, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Get ready.”

You nodded quickly, trying to focus on the task at hand. But as the training continued, you found yourself watching him more closely, admiring the way his muscles tensed with each movement, the sharp precision in his actions, the way his eyes never lost that fierce intensity. Even with your quirk, which required a completely different approach from his usual explosive style, he was relentless.

And then, there was the way he spoke—gruff and blunt, yes, but there was something in his voice that made you want to listen, to take his words to heart. He wasn’t just barking orders; he was guiding you, pushing you to be better, to master the power that he had spent years perfecting.

As you tried to channel the explosive energy into a controlled blast, you caught yourself staring at him again, noticing the way the sun highlighted the sharp lines of his face, the way sweat glistened on his skin, and the sheer confidence he exuded with every movement.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly looked away, mentally swatting the thought away. Nope, not going there. This was Bakugou—arrogant, hot-headed, and always in competition mode. You couldn’t afford to let yourself get distracted, especially not by... that.

But the more you tried to push the thought away, the more it lingered at the back of your mind. You couldn’t deny that, despite his rough edges, there was something undeniably attractive about him. It wasn’t just his looks—though they certainly didn’t hurt—it was the way he carried himself, the way he demanded excellence not just from himself but from everyone around him.

“Focus,” Bakugou’s voice cut through your thoughts, sharp and commanding. He was standing close, too close, and you realized with a start that you had been completely zoned out. “What the hell are you doing? We’re not here to daydream.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up as you forced yourself to focus. You took a deep breath, pushing all those distracting thoughts aside. “I’m ready.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not convinced. “Don’t let your mind wander. You need to stay sharp, or you’ll blow your damn face off.”

You nodded, trying to shake off the embarrassment. “I won’t. Let’s do this.”

Bakugou watched you for another moment, his gaze intense and scrutinizing. Finally, he stepped back, nodding slightly. “Good. Now, try it again. This time, don’t overthink it. Just let it flow.”

You took his advice to heart, focusing on the task at hand. But even as you concentrated on controlling the explosion, a small part of you couldn’t help but steal glances at him, admiring the way he effortlessly commanded the situation. It was maddening, really. How could someone so frustrating be so... captivating?

“Better,” he said after your next attempt, his voice still gruff but with a hint of approval. “You’re getting the hang of it.”

“Thanks,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. You were determined not to let him see how much he was affecting you.

But as the training continued, it became harder and harder to ignore the way your heart seemed to race whenever he was near, the way your thoughts kept drifting back to him despite your best efforts to stay focused.

By the time the session ended, you were physically exhausted and mentally drained. Bakugou was standing a few feet away, catching his breath, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his chest heaved with each inhale, the slight sheen of sweat on his skin, the fierce determination in his eyes.

And in that moment, as you watched him, you couldn’t deny it any longer: Bakugou Katsuki was attractive, and the thought was impossible to shake.

You quickly turned away, trying to suppress the feeling bubbling up inside you. This was Bakugou—your training partner, your rival, your... well, whatever he was. You couldn’t let yourself get distracted by something as ridiculous as a crush.

But as you walked back to the dorms together, exchanging the occasional word, you knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. Not when he was right there, with that intense gaze and that unwavering confidence, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

And as much as you tried to push the thought away, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you let it stay.

[lemotmo]

Thoughts and ruminations on 911 8x07

I just finished the episode.

So… before writing my thoughts down I took a quick look at my ask box to see what people said about the episode and I have to admit I was quite surprised to see so many people disliked it.

Because I have to admit… I really kinda liked this episode.🫣 Was it a filler episode? Yes. But I still liked it.🤷‍♀️ Sorry not sorry.

Athena’s storyline is interesting, because she is getting older and it might be a very interesting story for her to move on to the next phase in her career. I love how she finally realised that being a lone wolf might not be a good thing for her anymore.

I love how she used all of her instincts and clocked that rookie right from the start. I also really liked the actor playing the rookie. He did a great job there. I started out the episode liking him and as the story progressed, I slowly started realising (together with Athena) that this kid might just be bad news. It’s the way the story was set up and the way he reacted that made me suspicious about him. It was a great storyline for Athena in my opinion.

That Athena & Hen scene? *chef’s kiss*

And let’s be real here… Angela is such a wonderful actress. She pulled me right into that story. For once it wasn’t Athena going all lone wolf and breaking the rules, but she actually followed the rules this time. Which was very refreshing.

Then we have the hotshots storyline. Again… I liked it a lot. I laughed out loud a couple of times during the episode. It was fun. The whole Gerrard thing was funny. I mean… no, I don’t like the way they are absolving Gerrard of all his past wrongs, but it’s obviously the road they’ve chosen, so we have no choice but to go with it.🙄

As for Brad? He is one strange very volatile character, but Callum plays him so well. I’m looking forward to him riding along with the 118. Bobby will go nuts! I do wonder where they are going with the whole Brad thing. Why is he still there? There has to be a reason. 🤔

That scene with Bobby standing up to Brad. I mean, seriously… that was kinda hot. Bobby’s still got it. When Athena sees that video, she’ll break out the handcuffs, no doubt.😌

That brings us to Buck. His heart has been broken. He is allowed to suffer a little over that. We might not have liked Tommy and we all know that Tommy wasn't right for him, but that doesn't change the fact that Buck cared for him, so he will be sad about it. It's normal.

But the man obviously doesn’t have a clue who he really is. I hope they’ll explore his bisexuality a bit better during the next episodes. They need to do something with this.

The stress-baking was hilarious. So much food!😆 The whole Madney/Buck convo about the universe bringing that special person made me go all 👀👀👀👀👀👀. Maddie knows what’s up with Buck. She has known since season 7 and the whole Eddie & Tommy mix up. She knows! 😋

Buck got to experience some happiness as well, which was fun. The pregnancy announcement and his little moment with Jee were so cute. Loved that.

I also loved the whole Eddie taking Buck's phone, actively preventing him from texting Tommy.😏 This is the guy who told Buck to call Tommy last season and now he’s taking away his phone. I love it! It’s so symbolic. It also shows us a more playful Eddie who is trying to find his joy. That scene was so good.

We knew that Eddie was going to react differently to the break up, because Ryan mentioned it in an interview. This might be part of that. He knows what Buck needs as well. The man doesn't need pampering, he needs someone to take action, so Eddie took action. I love seeing Eddie so happy! Happy Eddie makes me happy!

That last Buck/Hen/Eddie scene was so good. I shows us a more happy Buck, a clear sign of him moving on, so I don't think we'll get any more 'calling Tommy' mentions next week. That scene also shows us a happy carefree Eddie, which was lovely to see!

I didn’t expect much progress in the whole Buck and Eddie story this episode, so I’m glad with what we got. I’m expecting some more Eddie next episode though. I think they want to really set up the narrative of him finding ‘joy’ again. It started in 7 and I think he’ll get more focus in 8.🤞🤞🤞

I know I talk about Eddie, Buck and Buddie a lot, because they are so important to me. But I don’t exclusively watch this show for them. I watch it for every character and I love all of these characters so much. 911 is my comfort show. I love it so much.

That being said though, let's focus on the Buddie front for a minute.😆 They recycled two more of the greatest Buddie NDE’s in this episode: the lightning strike (Buck) and the shooting (Eddie). Next week seems to have a drowning scene, which is something both Buck and Eddie went through. Buck with the tsunami and Eddie when he was buried alive. This has me sitting up for real! They are cooking up something big for Buddie. I can smell it in the air.

Okay, so overall conclusion?

Was it a filler episode? Yes, it was. But you know what? It was a good one. I thoroughly enjoyed it. 🤷‍♀️😁

Now off to answer some asks! 😋

[messiahzzz]

Hello! I love your meta-analysis of BG3 and share many of the same opinions concerning our boy, Gale. I have an interesting question for you concerning the orbs "volatility" in relation to intimacy (both physical and non-physical). I used to believe it was cannon that Gale couldn't engage in physical intimacy because the Orb may detonate, but when I played as Gale I was able to sleep with Astarion. This is in contrast to when I played as Karlach and couldn't touch anyone.

So, all of this is to ask whether Gale's dialogue at the tiefling party was him protecting himself emotionally or if he truly thought that any excitement would trigger the Orb (ironic given they are fighting for their lives daily)? Additionally is this why the Weave scene only features an imagined kiss rather than a physical one?

thank you so much for the questions!! i’m very glad you enjoy reading my posts 💕

gale: with my condition being as volatile as it is, i fear any undue, er, excitement, may tip it over the edge. so to speak.

i do believe that gale was being honest in regards to avoiding physical/emotional excitement concerning the orb. his first and foremost priority is to make sure to avoid as many potential triggers as possible, being fully aware of the catastrophe that will occur if he doesn’t keep an eye on his condition at all times. fighting is inevitable given the situation the group found themselves in. on top of that, every single day for the past year alone has quite literally been a life or death situation for him, wondering how much longer he can hold on until the orb inevitably takes over. i also think that he has experienced his fair share of horrors and tough fights in his past, considering his status as an archmage, as well as him being mystra’s chosen. even with his now diminished powers & the tadpole in his head he still remains in his element. magic is his life, it comes as easy to him as breathing.

gale: i'm what one might call a wizard prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the weave, but compose it, much like a musician or a poet.

more importantly, the devnotes also proof that the orb is indeed the reason for his deflection during the tiefling party:

gale: i see. then perhaps we see each other in the same light after all. a resplendent one, flush with warmth and anticipation, but one which i must shy away from, for now. node context: still flustered, but pleased to learn you like him romantically. then getting to the point - he can't do anything until the orb is dealt with.

if tav directly tells him to cease the perceived flirting, he will reveal that he considered their relationship to be a "budding romance" at this stage.

player: if this is an attempt at flirting, you should stop. i'm not interested. gale: right. understood. you shall hear no more on the subject from me. gale: consider this budding romance thoroughly nipped. though i hope our friendship need not come to such an abrupt end.

yet at the same time, he is also completely flustered if tav is the one who initiates the flirting:

player: do you like having your belly rubbed? gale: the pleasures i experienced in mystra's embrace go far beyond the pleasures of having one's tummy tickled. i remember once, she took the smallest piece of the weave and made it into- gale: wait. are you saying... nodecontext: taking the question seriously, missing the flirtatious side of it. nodecontext: realizing that the player was flirting, getting flustered

regardless of which flirt option tav chooses to pick, the outcome remains the same:

gale: you know what, i think i've clearly had far too much wine. and you've had nowhere near enough. i think this is a conversation best held back on - for now. nodecontext: flustered, hesitating to explicitly say what he thinks you were offering, then backtracking altogether

while battle naturally is always accompanied by the unpredictable, (as well as the dread of facing a yet unknown enemy) i don’t think he experiences quite the same amount of trepidation as where matters of the heart are concerned. or perhaps it would be more accurate to say it’s an altogether different kind.

the budding relationship with tav is once again unfamiliar territory for him after all those years he went without mortal intimacy, years that have been spent with mystra instead. it’s understandable that he exercises caution at all times, knowing what’s at stake if he lets go for but merely a moment. i also believe gale to be a character who generally goes “all out” once he chooses to be intimate with someone. we know that he doesn’t do casual trysts, friends-with-benefits arrangements, or anything of the sort. instead he wants to build a deep connection first. gale is a romantic through and through, he only feels comfortable being intimate once it has been explicitly established that the emotions he feels for tav are indeed wholly reciprocated. gale puts his whole heart into everything he does, he would’ve felt that it was a disservice to tav if he was only able to give them (according to him) even less than the remaining fragments of a broken man he has to offer — once he decides to give himself, he gives himself fully.

another added factor, however, is that the tiefling party simply wasn’t the right time for him yet, even if he already felt some attraction to them. part of him perhaps would’ve liked to go a bit further, be more direct about his growing fondness for them. spending a night together, just enjoying each other's company, talking until the sun rises, perhaps even sharing their first kiss if he felt that the timing was right — but i don’t think he would’ve considered this to be the appropriate stage in their relationship to sleep with tav either way. orb or no.

gale also tells us this much during the Last Night Alive scene, as well as during the conversation after you just met tara. in an ideal situation he would’ve taken his time, courted tav properly, said it all better.

gale: if things were different, if we were home, i'd have taken the time to do things properly. to say it all better. but time is short.

gale: i always imagined what it would be like when you finally got to meet her. this wasn't quite what i had pictured. gale: i thought we'd be in waterdeep. you, curled up before a crackling hearth while i prepared us a ridiculously extravagant meal, served with a batch of my homemade hundur sauce.

time is short.

i always headcanoned gale to be on the demi spectrum. that he needs to build a close bond before sexual intimacy is something that even remotely occurs to him. tav is an anomaly in this regard — he knows he deeply cares for them, emotions that developed even in the short, few months they've known each other, and that he doesn’t have the luxury of time to let their relationship unfold in all the many ways he dreamed of. all he knows is that he loves tav, wholly and truly. and that, by the gods, he has to make the most out of the few extra heartbeats he’s been given. even if his death is inevitable, he will at least be able to show them the depths of his affection. leave them with shared memories of pure tenderness, a knowledge of a love so profound that it might perhaps even prevail way beyond his passing.

player: what about all we shared together? are you just going to give up? gale: this isn't giving up it's securing victory, at a price i am willing to pay. and everything we shared can live on - with you.

i wouldn’t necessarily say that gale was trying to “protect himself emotionally” during the tiefling party, but rather acted accordingly to the horrifying circumstances the tadpole gang (and especially he himself) find themselves in. i don’t think gale ever really considers a romanced!tav as someone he needs to be guarded around. evident in the way he immediately throws all doors open without any sign of hesitation once he has their assurance that their love is indeed mutual. gale pours his heart out to them regardless, not knowing whether his feelings are truly returned. he is not a character who shies away from being vulnerable by any means. he is an open book, that tav is free to peruse in as they see fit. a slither of trust is all he needs.

during the weave scene the connection abruptly fades once tav either imagines passionately kissing him or holding his hand during a romantic walk. a scene that again shows that he is genuinely stunned by what he’s being shown. after all, it doesn't happen often that gale of waterdeep is at a loss for words.

gale: i... i didn't think... narrator: *you perceive quick-fire gusts of embarrassment, trepidation, and finally... elation.* gale: sorry, i wasn't expecting... but it is a pleasant image to be sure! gale: most pleasant, in fact. most welcome. nodecontext: warm, with real affection

i do believe the weave scene in particular to be a turning point for him. sort of an epiphany. the first moment in which he realizes that he actually might like the idea of eventually being with tav as perhaps more than a friend. that he is filled with fondness whenever they’re near and that he is excited to see where their joined travels lead them next.

player: when i said we could be more than friends, you answered 'perhaps'. what does that really mean? gale: if i recall correctly, the waterdhavian dictionary of the common tongue of faerun defines it as an adverb that conveys the meaning of 'it may be that', or 'possibly'. gale: you see, i'm not a big believer in fate, but i do believe in serendipity. gale: life is a tempest of events that sometimes we brace against and sometimes embrace. gale: you're one such event that, one day soon perhaps, i'd like to embrace.

given my personal hc of gale being demisexual, i genuinely don’t believe that he entertained the thought before that. he was way too preoccupied with other more pressing concerns. his overall condition, the tadpole, mourning the loss of his powers, still dealing with a lingering sense of loneliness and melancholy. a yearning for better times, as well as disillusionment of being cast out and left behind, even if he has already worked through his romantic feelings for mystra and their unilaterally ended relationship by then.

gale: i'm hardly pining. it's been a year or more since mystra cast me aside.

tav’s advances genuinely catch him off guard, which is, according to my interpretation, also the reason why their shared connection abruptly faded. a general loss of focus. gale immediately bidding tav goodnight to reflect on the situation and sort through his thoughts again shows that this wasn’t how he expected this moment of teaching to unfold. it seems rather uncharacteristic of him to initiate a kiss in this specific scenario. tav was testing the waters, whether it happened intentionally or not, and gale found himself pleasantly surprised by the turn of events.

i also believe that we generally shouldn’t use origin playthroughs as a cross-reference for the actual canon. larian approached each story with more or less detail and there are already so many inconsistencies present that have been pointed out by other players. instead we should see origin pts as an oc kind of scenario — larian handing us the reigns of each origin character, a way for us to have fun and figure out all the atrocities we could possibly come up with. sort of like playing with our own set of barbies. (“go nuts, show nuts” as tunglr staff put it back in the day) for example, playing as w*ll doesn’t lock you out of raiding the grove and spending a steamy night with m*nth*ra right after either. which is something that contradicts everything he stands for/something he wouldn't naturally do. even if you try to play an origin character as close to their canon portrayal as possible, you will still encounter several contradictions and discrepancies during the duration of your game. larian sadly also has a chronic pattern of overlooking gale in terms of content, fixes, and overall responsiveness. so it’s easy to conclude that his origin story simply hasn’t been fleshed out to the same extent & treated with the same amount of care and consideration that certain other characters received. (which is awfully ironic considering he’s been proven to be the most popular origin character, but i digress)

basically, this has been my very long-winded way of saying: the reason why gale refuses to be intimate with tav pre-orb stabilization is indeed because he is afraid of the orb accidentally detonating during a moment of carelessness and/or indulgence, as well as because of gale’s own preferences when sex & romance are concerned.

[saintsenara]

you said “the eleven-year-old riddle, for example, is written in a way which suggests he has an accent and uses words and expression which would be understood as working class”. Can you elaborate on what you mean? I love your meta btw. You are brilliant

thank you for two tmr-related follow-up questions to the slughorn/snape bonanza meta, anons!

[and thank you for calling me "brilliant", anon no. 1. picture me kicking my little feet in the air and chirping like a cat which has just seen a bird outside.]

how is the eleven-year-old riddle shown to be common as muck?

besides the fact he lives in an orphanage.

it's things like this:

“You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course — well, I’m not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!”

while none of this is in a demonstrably non-standard dialect of british english [i.e. riddle doesn't use contractions like "ain't" or "innit", or say "i never did nothing to little amy benson..."] it's definitely a way of phrasing his speech - especially when coupled with the fact that this quote reads like he's speaking really quickly, and he's described as looking "furious" - which would be considered uncouth, especially in the 1930s. [not big fans of emotional volatility, the posh].

his refusal to speak deferentially to dumbledore - and the fact that when he's eventually induced to call him sir he is described as being "unrecognisably polite" - is a similar indication that he doesn't exist as a child in the sort of context where he's forced to perform more refined manners in order to get what he wants.

[the sixteen-year-old riddle is considerably more obsequious, because he recognises that the way to get things out of e.g. slughorn is to comport himself like his upper-class peers.]

and he also - which is iconic of him - calls mrs cole a bitch here. "cat" is a slang term for a gossipy or meddling woman - and while it doesn't quite have the full heft of "bitch" [you find it used with impunity by middle-class women in pretty much every piece of literature written pre-1950...], it's incredibly rude for a child to say it to a stranger who he assumes is a doctor.

riddle does also use non-standard english - for example, when he says of dumbledore's wand:

“Where can I get one of them?”

[the correct form would be "one of those".]

it's this which really hammers home - beyond the ways in which it can be inferred from the context of the setting and the scansion of his [and mrs cole's, they speak fairly similarly] speech - that he has a london accent which would be understood, especially when combined with his second-hand possessions and his general rowdiness, as working-class by the sort of people who otherwise seem to end up in slytherin.

exactly what accent this would be depends on where we think the orphanage is. the closest we come to locating it in canon is that riddle buys [or, let's be real, steals] his diary from a shop on "vauxhall road". this isn't a real place, but vauxhall is an area of south london.

but most people - including me - usually place it in east london [i like, as i've said elsewhere, to put it on dorset street in spitalfields, which is the site of one of jack the ripper's most brutal murders]. this would have him born within the sound of bow bells, meaning he'd have every right to call himself a cockney and would undoubtedly speak with a cockney accent.

the south london and east london accents are recognisably distinct from one another [and from north and west london accents], but they would both be understood as common in the time period, when both anyone born into an upper-class or upper-middle-class background and anyone who aspired to be thought of as having done so would speak with [something as close as they could to] received pronunciation.

why do i think slughorn remains chill until after riddle refuses his job offers?

riddle's conversation with slughorn about horcruxes happens at some point in his sixth year - the academic year 1943-1944. we know this because he's a prefect - but not yet head boy, because he's killed his father [his second victim - the riddles are killed in the summer of 1943, after myrtle is killed at the end of the 1942-1943 school year], and because it just makes sense from a narrative standpoint for this pivotal moment in his life to take place at the same time harry's own life is transforming.

my presumption is that the chat happens during the first term, and that riddle doesn't actually create the diary horcrux until afterwards - so let's say the conversation happens c. november 1943 [when riddle would still be sixteen - the age the diary tells us he is]. slughorn then spends a full eighteen months continuing to support and favour him - advocating for him to be head boy, attempting to set him up in prestigious jobs, presumably being willing to support his application to teach defence against the dark arts - after he's aware that he's not opposed to a bit of splitting the soul.

i don't imagine for a second slughorn would ever have turned him in - he is, after all, fundamentally a coward, and he's clearly worried that he'd get in trouble himself for discussing horcruxes with a pupil - but if he were properly troubled by the discussion i think his behaviour would resemble how he treats harry while he's trying to collect the memory: unfailingly polite and unflappably jolly, but still mysteriously unable to be cornered alone.

and - actually - i think this is the specific source of slughorn's shame over the incident, and it's why i really don't like the memory acquisition scene - "you have no idea how frightening he was" - in the half-blood prince film. slughorn is clearly rattled by the conversation, but he then seems to manage to convince himself that everything's fine and riddle was just being a teen show-off with a morbid streak.

[and the adult voldemort - for his part - evidently has no suspicion at all that slughorn took the conversation seriously enough to waver in his cowardice and admit what he'd told him.]

but riddle refusing to accept his help in securing a job - and, therefore, refusing to enter into the sort of patron-client relationship slughorn canonically establishes with pupils from non-elite backgrounds - is riddle indicating that he refuses to be restrained by the norms of wizarding society.

it's a big "fuck you" to slughorn from the perspective of social convention notwithstanding the other context - a presumed-to-be-muggleborn orphan asserting that he can make it in the world on his own terms without tugging his forelock to the pureblood elite - but it's also evidence that he has no intention of finding himself in a situation where slughorn can control him personally.

it means that slughorn finds himself in a position in which he can't dangle the threat of reporting him to the aurors for [conspiracy to commit] murder/taking an interest in dark magic we can presume is illegal unless riddle does something he wants. and it makes it impossible for slughorn to continue convincing himself their conversation was purely macabre curiosity.

slughorn can convince himself that the eighteen-year-old riddle - the polite and brilliant head boy who undoubtedly continued to attend slug club meetings without incident in the period 1943-1945 [since him being barred from such occasions would have tipped him off that slughorn was worried] - can still be treated in a way which has served him well since he started teaching, and can have his... odder aspects constrained by the pressure of wizarding social convention.

the twenty-year-old riddle - on his own in his knockturn alley shop, with its dark reputation, and apparently uninterested in settling down nicely under the thumb of a respectable patron - cannot be.

and slughorn is terrified of this - and the repercussions it has the potential to bring upon him - but he's also going to be offended by it -and i think it's really interesting to skewer his canonical dislike of being associated with death eaters a little by playing with that offence: i.e. that he's not only unimpressed because lucius malfoy's in azkaban, but because of the whole bending-and-scraping-and-saying-my-lord act.

[lightofraye]

Another View

So… the other day my inbox exploded. Imagine my surprise, waking up, rolling out of bed, doing a check of notifications and my eyes popping out in surprise. Quite a few of my followers were sharing their distress at another blogger’s claim. I know this blogger. We’ve spoken in the past, often privately but occasionally in reblogs.

We share a difference of opinion here. They know this, I know it. We respect our difference of opinions. I even gave them a polite heads up on this post, because I didn’t want them to think I’m calling them out. At most, all I am doing is disagreeing.

See… having a temper does not make a person abusive. I have a temper. My daughter has a temper. Hell, even my daughter-in-law has a temper. We are all human. All of us have our limits, our moments, that we explode—and it’s not always rational or understandable.

Now, keep in mind, I am not excusing Jensen having these volatile moments. The hotel door story has me puzzled, because he wouldn’t—shouldn’t—share something like that unless it genuinely was okay. Him blowing up at someone he seemingly almost hit? Yeah, no, not cool.

Does that translate into being an abuser himself? Respectfully… no.

It’s Jensen being able to safely (not really, but work with me here) at others when he’s unable to do so at Danneel. Does he have moments where he blows up at Danneel? I’m sure he does. And frequently probably regrets it, if Danneel is anything like other abusers. It can be manipulated and turned into a “See? This is why I can’t talk to you. You blow up like this and then suddenly it’s all my fault.”

It’s extremely rare for both people in a relationship to be abusive. It’s why I wrote about reactive abuse not too long ago. Mutual abuse just rarely happens. It’s likely if Jensen is acting out, it’s because he was being abused first.

Does that mean the other blogger is wrong? No. Does it mean I’m wrong? No. More we have different interpretation of certain celebrities and situations. Our experiences color our perceptions, how we view scenarios.

In so many ways, the “truth” has multiple views. Even witnesses of a car accident will see everything differently. One person will be 100% certain that one car hit the other first, while the other would be positive it was someone else. This is why eyewitnesses are shaky to depend on for court trials. This is why evidence, hard evidence, such as photographs, expert opinions, videos, are so important.

And then the reasoning behind such situations. Why did Jensen lose his temper over a hotel door not opening? Why did he have to blow up at that gentleman? What was the trigger behind all that? Was it because he couldn’t blow up at Danneel? Get her to stop? But this—a door? Kick it in! Instead of owning up to his fault, Jensen had to turn the blame on the gentleman? Because for once, he didn’t want to be at fault?

There are so many different ways of viewing it. So many interpretations.

In the end, the one who can say otherwise is Jensen. There are stories he tell that have me pausing and going “Why that story? That doesn’t put you in a good light.” Did he feel unworthy of good stories? Of being seen in a good light? Or was it so normal to him that he doesn’t realize how alarming it came across to others?

(Certainly I wonder why he thought he had to share that his father beat him with a belt…)

In the end, we have our stances. This blogger knows mine. I know hers. We respect one another’s opinions.

[roguishcat]

ooooh what is ‘a welcome distraction’???

Thank you for the ask! 💖I subscribe to the idea that Astarion is very much a cat. 🙂 Neil showing the cat that he adopted and commenting on how long it took to gain the said cat's trust was really helpful in terms of understanding what Astarion is likely to do. I'm not saying that I write Astarion perfectly, but watching that live stream helped me to improve.

With that in mind, I started writing and this wrote itself. It's not done, but it's becoming something.

Astarion stretched out languidly on Tav’s bedroll, watching her as she looked through their magic trinkets to decide which ones they could do without. Ever since Gale came to her, confessing everything, telling her of his folly, Tav has taken extra care to set aside an item or two that the wizard could consume.

Now, if this was done out of sense of self-preservation, that would be completely understandable. It would be quite unfortunate for that orb in his chest to get so volatile it would just explode at random. Such a waste that would be. The world would lose its most beautiful creature! And just as he was starting to enjoy his freedom! And he supposed the wizard had his uses too.

Astarion blinked slowly and sighed. As nice as it was to have no one try to murder them for a change, he was getting bored. And his favourite source of entertainment seemed to have no time on her hands for him.

Now that just wouldn’t do.

He moved closer to Tav and lifted his hand to rest on her head, running his fingers through her hair and then lower down to caress the exposed skin of her neck. Astarion knew that he was distracting her, that was the whole point of the gentle, feather-light touches that made goosebumps rise on her exposed arms. And when that garnered no reaction, Astarion lifted himself up to press his chest against her back, snaking his arms around her middle.

“Darling,” he said smoothly, kissing her shoulder, making a move to lift her shirt enough with insistent hands to expose skin and trace slow patterns just above her hipbones, “don’t you think it’s time for a break?”

“As nice as that sounds, I still have to go through all the scrolls and potions.”

“Nice? I can’t promise anything that uninspired,” he scoffed. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning.

“Something wicked, however,” he drawled, his lips almost touching Tav’s ear “that I could definitely provide.”

“Well, as delicious as that sounds, I’m not moving until I get this done. But perhaps you could help?”

“Tsk, you are no fun,” he pouted, lifting a necklace with the tip of his finger. “What’s this one supposed to do?”

“Let me just check… Misty Step.”

“Keeping it,” he would have squirreled it away earlier, but a part of him felt a sick sort of dread at taking something without waiting for permission first. It was almost like a reflex. Not to take without permission, lest he be punished.

“If you want,” Tav shrugged with a smile. “Put it into your pile, it’s that one.”

Astarion inwardly preened when he noted it was one of the bigger piles. He spied a nice bow and two rings perched on top of a set of armour. He supposed getting nice new things was worth an hour of boredom.

It was still a novel concept. Having things of his own. Being given what he needed or simply wanted with no strings attached. And it wasn’t just him that got such treatment. Tav tried her best to make sure that everyone was taken care of to the best of her ability.

Astarion would probably never admit it unless faced with decapitation, but Tav has really started to grow on him. The pleasant manner in which she carried herself, the ferocious way in which she fought, the unwavering loyalty to those she considered friends.

That was yet another novel concept, having friends.

 “Darling, I can’t help but notice that you didn’t choose anything for yourself.”

“I don’t need anything right now.”

That was a lie. Her armour breathed its last when they went up against the goblins to protect the Grove. She could definitely use a new pair of boots too.

“As sweet as you are for thinking of others before yourself, I would rather you not become a pincushion next time we are ambushed. Here,” he picked a set of armour at random, “take this.”

“And Shadowheart will have to do without, I suppose?”

“She’s a cleric. She can heal herself.”

[swordfright]

shape language + dsmp cast !

Over the past year or so I’ve been slowly (very slowly lmfao) teaching myself to draw, and part of that process has been learning how shapes dictate meaning and emotion, so just for funsies I decided to do a full analysis of the shapes I usually use when drawing the cast of DSMP. Full analysis under the cut~

From left to right, top to bottom:

c!Dream — Typically, triangles communicate action, dynamism, or danger, all of which are pretty fitting for this guy, so the overall impression of his shape is usually triangular. His design also tends to use a lot of rectangles, which (because they contain elongated vertical lines) communicate a solidity that is less stable than, say, a square.

c!George — My design for him is very circular. Circles are made up of curves, so they tend to communicate softness and safety, as well as inaction or passivity. Since he can sometimes be quite a passive character in comparison to others, I usually go with a circle-based design for him.

c!Sapnap — I see Sapnap as a very complex character with a lot of different sides, at times extremely impulsive and at other times quite stable. Because of this, the shape I like to use for him is the rhombus, a type of parallelogram. Think of it like a square that’s leaning to one side: it still communicates the solidity and dependability of a square, but the diagonal lines that make up the shape mitigate that impression by suggesting motion/tension.

c!Punz — The base shape for Punz is usually either a short rectangle or a square, communicating reliability, while the face shape tapers into a point to suggest dynamism. He’s tricksy but dependable.

c!Techno — This guy’s always made up of circles and squares! Sturdy, reliable, approachable, strong, friendly. An all-around (haha get it) great guy.

c!Philza — I see Phil as one of those characters who, despite being very affable, has got a lot going on under the surface, so I didn’t want to stick to simple shapes for him. The shape I usually go with is an oval, because it carries the safety and amiability that roundness lends, as well as the slight instability implied by the long vertical lines in an oval.

c!Sam — This guy’s mostly squares! Strong, dependable, solid, secure…but also deeply inflexible.

c!Quackity — Nearly every shape in this design is some kind of triangle because that’s how I see Q: unpredictable, sharp, active. Triangles effortlessly convey the volatility associated with his character arc.

c!Wilbur — Okay, this is a tough one. Wilbur is a super manic character. This bad boy can fit so many shapes in him! His design usually features a pointed nose (triangular), a square jaw (strength/conviction), and either a rectangular or oval-shaped head. Wilbur can do (and be) a lot of things at once, so I really wanted his shapes to get that point across.

c!Tommy — Since he and Tubbo are both some of the younger server members, I like to include circles in their designs since roundness conveys youth. Tommy’s face shape usually tapers into a more pointed chin because he’s so active and volatile, he needs some pointy bits to show it!

c!Ranboo — The predominant shape here is a LONG rectangle. When it comes to rectangles, the wider the base, the more stable the shape ends up looking. But if the rectangle is much taller than its width, it conveys instability or even anxiety. I want Ranboo to look like he could topple over at any moment.

c!Tubbo — Just like Tommy, Tubbo’s primary shape is circular to communicate youth. But since Tubbo is a somewhat less active character than Tommy (a statement that’s true of most characters TBH) his circles are wider, sort of more squashed, to represent a state of semi-stability.

I could go on about this for way longer but I’m gonna cap this post here. There are a ton of characters I haven’t covered obviously, so LMK if there’s anyone else in particular whose shapes you’d like to see me break down.

[twisted-fics-in-wonderland]

Nightmare Comfort Octavinelle

Prompt: Y/N had a nightmare and asks comfort

Characters: Azul, Jade, Floyd

✨🌸Fluff🌸✨

Fish Mafia my beloveds (✿◡‿◡)

Y/N is going to be gender neutral to the best of my abilities. They/Them Pronouns, and I’m going to try and avoid gendered descriptors <3

TW/CW: Not describing what was in the nightmare but if that ambiguity bothers you and makes your mind spiral please don’t read and have a wonderful night, 

Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle (Here) | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia |

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N jolted upright, holding their chest as it felt as if their heart would run away. They tried to calm their breathing and their thoughts, unable to shake the horrors their subconscious cruelly subjected them to. They took some deep breaths and manage to calm themself enough to look at the time. They squinted as the cheap phone Crowley gave them lights up and the numbers display on the screen. It was late.

They wondered if it may be too late to ask for comfort from someone. Of course they could just pet Grim but they didn't feel like dealing with the feline whining and complaining in that moment. So taking another deep breath both to sooth their shaky hands and for some courage, they opened their contacts to make a phone call.

Azul Ashengrotto

Y/N stared at Azul's contact for a while. They weren't sure why he insisted on putting his number in their phone but it was safe to assume it was just easy access to make a deal with him. They sighed softly, not sure if they wanted to risk getting condescended to by the business man at a time like this. They let out a small sigh, pushing that thought to the side and called him. The phone barely had time to ring before his voice came through, as charismatic as ever.

"Y/N!" he started, "what reason do you have to be calling me so late? Answer quickly, I'm a very busy man, you know."

"Ah.. I was actually wondering if..." they trailed off, seemingly losing the ability to form a coherent sentence suddenly.

"Continue," the merman prompted them.

"Maybe you could stay on the phone with me for a while?" they hid their face as if he could see them through the phone. Saying it out loud to Azul was more embarrassing than they had anticipated.

"Hm.. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have company," he paused for a moment, the loud sound of papers being shuffled coming through, "though it'll cost you" they could tell that he was smirking by the smug tone in his voice.

"... maybe I should have called someone else," they sighed shakily.

"No-" he said with a sudden sternness, "ahem.. I've just decided your company will be trade enough."

They laughed a little, "you don't want to be alone either, do you?"

"Don't be ridiculous, I quite enjoy my solitude," he huffed

"Okay, Takoyaki," they snort

"Did you just... you know what nevermind, I'll call you back on video."

Azul hung up, calling back fairly quickly. He already had the phone propped up as he worked. He looked much less put together than his usual professional appearance. His tie was undone, resting around his neck, as well as a few buttons on his shirt were left undone. He was missing the coat from his dorm uniform too, though it was too late to be all that worried about appearances. It's not like there would be customers this late.

Y/N smiled a little, snuggling into their covers after propping their phone up.

"Azul?" they spoke softly

"Y/N, I need to focus. How chatty do you plan on being?" he glances over at them.

"Not very.. Thank you."

"For?"

"Staying here with me"

Azul's cheeks dusted pink as he looked back to his papers, looking composed otherwise, "Mm of course. How else would I guarantee your patronage?" he joked with a small smirk.

Jade Leech

Y/N bit their lip anxiously, as they stared intently at Jade's number. The eel wasn't nearly as volatile as his brother but that was what was insidious about him. What if he used this against them later? What if he blackmails them? It was a fair assumption of course even if they considered the two of them friends but they really didn't want to be alone. They took a deep breath and called him before there was time for anymore doubt to flood their mind.

They bit their bottom nervously, fidgeting with anything and everything in the short amount of time it took for Jade to pick up the phone.

"Good Evening, Y/N," he spoke with a smooth and clearness that implied he hadn't yet gone to bed, "you're up late, is there something you need?"

"Yeah there is," they adjusted themself and took a breath, gathering their confidence.

all their confidence dissipated when they heard his signature mocking yet polite chuckle, "well, are you going to tell me or should I come see for myself?"

"You don't need to come see!" they yelped out at the mere suggestion of the eel coming to them, "..well there's nothing to see, I just had a really bad nightmare,"

"I see, and you wanted some form of comfort?" he asked, voice smooth and words calculated.

"Yes.."

"And how exactly will I be compensated for this?" he asked slyly.

"My eternal gratitude?" they pleaded halfheartedly.

"I need a bit more than that, though you should hurry. We wouldn't want to lose more sleep, would we?"

"No.. how about this, I'll come foraging with you at some point," they suggested, though it wasn't necessarily one of their big interests they were willing. They enjoyed Jade's company anyway so why not?

"Yes, I do believe that will be a sufficient enough trade off,' he chuckled, feeling an immense amount of satisfaction from this exchange.

"So should I call back on video?"

"No, that won't be necessary."

"What?"

another chuckle was heard before the click of Jade hanging up came through. "Maybe he's going to call back, and that's why he's being all cryptic," they thought up this lie to make themself feel better, getting more and more concerned as they waited, but there was no phone call. Instead there was a knock on the door, not the front door, but their bedroom door. They jumped in surprise. "Did he.. come here anyway..?" they questioned internally, getting up and opening the door. Sure enough, there the eel was, directly in front of them with a sly smirk on his face and hand elegantly drawn to his lips.

"Once again, good evening,"

"You really didn't have to come all the way out here.. you look like you haven't slept at all yet,"

"I haven't, we had a lot of work to do at the lounge,"

"Well then why are you here? What's Azul going to say?"

"I'm sure Azul will manage just fine without me, you forget he's the boss," he laughed and leaned down a bit closer to their face, scanning their features for any kind of reaction.

They pushed his face away instinctually, feeling as if he was treating them like some meek prey animal that is to be studied before hunted. He was thoroughly entertained by such a reaction of course.

"Now, I suppose I should ask how you'd like me to get you back to sleep," he smirked, taking off his coat and getting comfortable.

Floyd Leech

Y/N wondered if it would be a good idea to call Floyd. He was a huge wild card, call him when he's in a bad mood and there's no telling what might happen. That's a lie of course, its likely to just result in one of his signature squeezes or getting mauled by the eel. Of course there was a chance he'd be in good mood and they would receive some sort of comfort. They squinted at the phone but shrugged as they call him. The worst that could happen was he threatens them a little, they'd be fine. They smiled a little after telling themself this.

"Shrimpy~!" the eel picked up and whined happily, clearly having just woken up, "whatcha doing up so late?"

"Well, uh.. I had a nightmare," they explained sheepishly.

"Aw, poor Shrimpy," he teased, "how about I come give you a big squeeze," they could just tell from the tone of his voice he had the biggest grin on his face.

"Are you talking about a hug or.."

"A hug obviously," he giggled, the sound of shuffling and something dragging along the mic coming through loud enough that they moved their phone away from them.

"You don't have to come over!" they spoke, panic clear in their voice.

"But I wanna," he whined.

"Okay," they sighed, not wanting to accidentally trigger a mood swing.

"Alright I'll be over in a flash," he hung up.

Y/N sighed and pinched the bridge of their nose before getting up. They walked downstairs and waited patiently in their living room area. Ramshackle was run down sure but at least the sofa was still comfortable to sit on. They jumped as they heard the front door swing open.

"Shrimpy~!" Floyd mused loudly, closing the door and rapidly approaching.

As soon as the two locked eyes, a mischievous glint gleamed in Floyd's eyes. A huge grin was plaster firmly on his face before swiftly pouncing on the magicless human. They let out an loud yelp and squirmed but to no avail. Floyd was getting his hug Cackling while writing this part.

"Poor, poor Shrimpy. Lets get back to bed," Floyd yawned, carrying Y/N back to bed.

He held them in a similar way to how someone would hold their favorite stuffed animal. Y/N didn't mind too much, this was actually quite endearing and cute in his own little way. Floyd was careful not to crush them when he flopped onto the bed with them, though the same can't be said for poor grim who scrambled away quickly. The cuddles were immaculate

[littleredwing89]

PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 10

PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 10

CEO!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings – Language. Implied Smut. Some Angst. Fluff.

A/N: Hope you all enjoy the FINAL chapter! :) But don’t worry. I have two extra chapters - epilogues as such xoxo

——

Dick immediately knew something was wrong the second he stepped into the penthouse apartment. The place stank strongly of whiskey and smoke. It wasn’t often Jason invited him round for poker, just the two of them but Dick didn’t want to refuse his brother. Jason had sounded hollow over the call making him worry. Dick looked across at his brother and frowned, it was clear Jason hadn’t shaved in over a week. The dark fuzz clearly irritated him as he clawed at it during their third game.

“You know”, Dick drawled, unable to hold back any longer, “The last time I checked you weren't being investigated by the GCPD”.

“Shut up and deal”, Jason snapped, downing the last of his drink. The bags under his eyes were dark and heavy. Since the argument he hadn’t slept well. The look on your face haunting him when he told you it didn’t mean anything.

Dick sighed and slid several cards across the table, “So I noticed you didn't bring Y/N to the gala that Bruce hosted last week”.

Jason cast his eyes up quickly, squinting at Dick, “Just say what you're going to say, Grayson. Don't bother with the preamble”.

“Did Y/N finally realise she's too good for you?”.

“Not exactly”, Jason sighed, carding his fingers through his messy hair.

“Why do I feel like what your about to say next is going to be really fucking stupid?”, Dick groaned and slapped his cards face down onto the table, huffing out a puff of air irritably. 

“I did the right thing”, Jason muttered, not quite believing himself. If it was the right thing, why did he feel so lousy? Why did he want to call you every minute of the day and beg for your forgiveness?

Dick rolled his eyes, “You and the rest of us have a very different view on things”.

“We ended things - ok?! - Jesus leave it alone”, Jason spat poisonously, the words replaying in his mind. The unshed tears in the corners of your eyes you wouldn’t let fall in front of him. Not wanting to give him that victory. 

“Why the fuck would you do that? Seriously?”, Dick slammed his palm down on the table harder than he intended, startling Jason for a second.

Jason scoffed, “Not all of us can afford to be sentimental, Grayson”.

“No one is going to think less of you if you just admit you’re scared”, Dick looked at his brother sympathetically. Jason hadn’t always been great with his emotions, often letting them get the better of him.

“I am NOT scared!!”, Jason growled and swept everything off the table in a fit of rage, chest heavy with deep breaths.

Dick looked up at him unphased, having seen these kinds of outbursts before, “Really?”, he laughed softly and leaned down to pick up half of the shattered glass from the floor, “You know what, she is too good for you, maybe I was wrong”.

Jason felt the flare of anger explode through him, the truth scorching his insides, “Stay out of it Grayson”.

Not allowing his volatile temper to bother him, Dick shrugged, “I’m your brother Jason and I’m not going to sugar coat anything for you...the truth hurts…Alfred would tell you the same thing”.

The words stung Jason harder than Dick probably intended. Especially mentioning Alfred. God, Alfred, he’d absolutely adored you. Jason cracked and buried his face in his hands realising he missed you. He missed every little thing about you. And now, now he didn’t have you. Fuck it hurt.

“You've got more money than sense”, Dick patted Jason on the back.

“I’m not really used to this sort of thing”.

Dick had to laugh at that, “I can tell”.

Jason glared embarrassed as Dick tried to hold back the laughter, “I don’t really know what to do…I kind of, well, I fucked it all up”.

“Promise me after this you’ll stop making me the sensible one…I don’t like it, it gives Bruce ideas”, Dick sighed before throwing the broken glass into the nearby bin, “Look…just talk to her, she’s a smart woman, she’s probably hoping you’ll call her”.

“You make it sound so easy!”.

“Look, take it from someone who’s lost some really special people…talk to her, don’t waste anymore of your time, or you’ll regret everything you never said”, Dick’s own face twisted with an unspoken sadness. Jason nodded slowly and dug his hands into his trouser pockets.

Dick sighed, rolling a poker chip between his fingers, “If you leave it any longer she’ll be gone for good. She’ll either find another firm to work for or she’ll leave the city. Plenty of companies would double her wage to have her”, he glanced over at his brother and rolled his shoulders, “Hell Jason, plenty of guys would jump to date her, she’s the full package, even I’m considering asking her on a date”.

“Don’t you dare”, Jason growled before looking sullen again, “And I know…Don’t you think I already fucking know all of this? I’ve been expecting her notice every damn day…”.

He didn’t want to admit that as each day passed and he didn’t receive it, he was thankful.

“So why are you still sitting here like a moron? You know what you have to do…do it, before I go do it for you”.

——

Four weeks had passed since that morning in his apartment. Four long weeks. You’d thrown yourself into your work completely, immersing yourself with more high pressured projects. It kept your mind busy. Whenever your thoughts strayed, they would linger on him. You couldn’t keep torturing yourself by thinking about him. The pain was still raw. Making your way up the steps in your apartment complex, the wine bottles clinked against each other. You must have sounded, and looked, like an alcoholic but your favourite wine had a ‘buy one get one free offer’ and you couldn’t turn that down.

Making your way up the last flight, you pushed through your front door, dropping your bag next to it with a heavy sigh. You could finally drop the fake smile. It was just you. You kicked your heels off and padded through into the kitchen, both bottles of wine in hand. You’d just placed them onto the counter when you heard the raspy cough behind you.

You screamed, spinning round with the corkscrew in your hands. It was the only weapon you had to hand and it seemed like a damn good option against your reasonably polite house intruder who had the decency to alert you to his presence before he tried to kidnap you, or worse.

“It’s just me!”. 

That voice. That fucking, deep drawl. The one you’d pictured strangling numerous times during the long tedious business meetings.

“Jason?!”.

“Hi”.

Was that all he had to say?! You fumed silently, glaring at him.

“I nearly fucking stabbed you!!”, you shouted, dropping the corkscrew onto the counter, “Are you fucking mad?!”.

He shifted uncomfortably in the kitchen doorway before leaning against it, hands burying themselves deep into the front pockets of his sweatpants. He cast his eyes down to your flooring, mumbling something to himself.

“What are you doing here?”, you rested your hand on the granite top, “Actually, more interestingly, how the hell did you get in here?”.

“I still have your spare key…and the doorman remembered me”.

You didn’t know what to say. What do you say to the man who you’d given so much of yourself to, only to have it returned in tiny fragments.

Jason pushed himself off the frame, edging towards you, “I-errr, I know I should have done this sooner”.

Scowling, you turned away from him and grabbed one of the bottles of wine, carrying it across to the cupboard above the sink.

He sighed and followed after you, your silence deafening him, “Can we at least talk Y/N? Please? I know this is a bit late”.

You grabbed an empty glass from the cupboard, “We can...I just don't think I'll like being sober while we do it”.

“What makes you think that?”.

“It’s you!”, you growled irritated, “You just show up at my apartment without a word of warning and expect a fucking welcome party! Not to mention the fact you’re trespassing! I could have you arrested!”.

You popped the cork from the bottle, throwing it into the bin violently before pouring yourself a liberal glass. After the day you’d had and now he was here, you fucking needed it.

“There's also the fact that this has been stewing for over a month Jason...Do you want me to keep going?”.

“Princess-”.

Jason rested his hand on your lower back, the heat of it made you want to sink straight into him but memories flashed from the morning of your argument. You flinched away from him, snapping angrily, “Don't princess me, asshole!”.

He sighed deeply, trying to step back towards you, “I didn’t come here to argue with you, I came to talk to you”.

“Hence why I need the alcohol”, you brushed past him again and grabbed a second glass from the cupboard, “Go on”.

You poured a second helping of wine and passed it to him, “You'll probably need this too”.

Jason took a large gulp before leaning against your kitchen side, his eyes drinking you in, “I’m not good at this kind of shit you know”.

Grabbing the second bottle of wine, you gave him a small smile, “Alcohol makes everything easier, plus, I have two bottles of this to get through”.

He scoffed, “You sound like an alcoholic”.

“One therapy problem at a time”.

The laugh that left his mouth made you chuckle too. His lips quirked. He’d missed your wit.

“I've been thinking-”.

“You and thinking…together? Wow. You must have had a lonely four weeks”.

Jason grunted, “Are you going to let me finish or keep being snarky?”.

You smiled slyly over the rim of your wine glass, “You've never complained before, but go on”.

He ignored your comment, “As I said, I've been thinking about us and-”, he shook his head slightly and took a large swig of his wine, “Fuck me”, he grunted, “I have no idea how people can talk about this stuff”.

“Over email I'm told”.

Jason grinned slightly, “Yeah, I probably should have done that”.

“I would have deleted it”, you smiled innocently, taking another large sip of your wine. You started to feel the little buzz warming your insides.

“Fair point”, he conceded before taking one of your hands in his, squeezing gently, “What I'm saying is, if you let me, I-I want to try again”.

The world stopped spinning. Your breath caught in your throat whilst you processed his words.

“In what way?”, your voice was barely above a whisper, worried this was just a dream. You’d wake up from your wine induced sleep, alone again.

Jason brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it delicately, whispering back, “I mean, just me and you…together. A real team…official”.

You stared at him, a little dumbfounded. You hadn’t expected that. No matter how much you’d wanted to hear it, you didn’t imagine Jason would ever say it. Even in his own, business like fashion.

“Princess?”, his voice seemed unsure when you hadn’t said a thing.

“Sorry”, you murmured, “I just didn’t expect you to say that…”, his face twisted with panic and you squeezed his hand reassuringly, “It’s a pleasant surprise…even if you did make it sound like a business transaction”, you added teasingly with the hint of a smile. He returned it, clasping your hand.

“I need you to be patient with me”, Jason took another mouthful of the wine, “This is…it’s new territory for me Y/N, I need you to understand that”.

“How do I know you won't go back on your word?”, your eyes glossed with a vulnerability Jason had never seen before. He was used to you being so full of fire and fight. There was a sharp sensation spreading across his chest. Realisation hitting him like a gale force storm. He’d really hurt you.

“I’ve- Y/N, I’ve never felt like this about anyone else”.

You set your glass down. The shock was hard to wipe from your face. Jason had finally admitted it. He stared at you, dark eyes brimming. You reached up, your palms resting on his cheeks. The stubble was rough under your skin as your thumb stroked over his cheek.

“Jay…”.

You felt his hand slip behind your neck, closing the distance between you both to brush his lips over yours. You hummed, deepening the kiss, enjoying the way your bodies fit together as he pressed you into the kitchen counter. Your eyes fluttered shut, letting your hands wrap around the back of his neck.

He pulled back from the kiss reluctantly, dotting more kisses over your cheeks, working down to your neck, “Princess…”.

The shivers spread across your skin, the prickle of his stubble felt perfectly familiar. You purred his name, tilting your head backwards before pushing on his chest, “I'll give you a chance..one chance, but if you cut me off or try to push me away like that again, I will burn your club to the ground”.

Jason barked out a laugh, the vibration rumbling deep from his chest, “Drop me off the top of The Iceberg if it makes you happy”. He continued his kisses along your shoulder, nipping gently. Reaching the strap of your top he slipped it down slowly, stroking the skin as it was revealed to him.

“Too messy”, you breathed.

His fingers traced up the front of your blouse, unbuttoning each one agonisingly slow. On instinct you shuddered when his fingers came into contact with your skin. You sighed softly, having missed the way he touched you.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook that easily Mr Todd”.

“Oh I know I’m not”, he kissed you again, smirking subtly, “I know I have a lot of making up to do…if you’ll let me”.

——

You waved at Bernice, a bright smile on your face as you pushed open Jason’s office door. She returned the smile with her own, waving briefly before digging back into the mountain of paperwork beside her. After the first month of your weekly visits and frequent lunch dates, she no longer questioned why it was you were visiting Mr Todd so often.

Jason looked up from his computer and grinned seeing you. He leaned back in his chair, edging away from his desk slightly, “You’re a little earlier than usual. Have you come to give me a birthday treat?”.

You rolled your eyes at him, working your way around his desk before dropping into his lap slowly, “How does it feel to be another day closer to death?”. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, smirking when he huffed.

“You’re so optimistic”, he rolled his eyes sarcastically before nudging his cheek against yours, a silent gesture of intimacy, “Why don’t you try flattering me instead princess?”.

“Your ego is big enough”.

Jason turned his face and brushed his lips against the shell of your ear, “That’s not the only thing big enough”, he growled playfully before nipping earlobe.

“You are terrible”, you laughed softly but your cheeks felt hot at the thought of him. He shuffled slightly, adjusting you to sit more comfortably.

“Are you excited for your birthday dinner party tonight? Alfred’s coming too”.

“I am, thank you for arranging it”, his arms wrapped around your middle pulling you into his chest, your head resting against his shoulder.

You nestled closer, playing with his tie, “Are you looking forward to all the presents you're gonna get?”.

“Like what?”.

Your lips curved upwards innocently and you tugged the fabric gently between your fingers, “Oh you know, golf clubs, Viagra, whiskey, the works”.

Jason slipped his hands down to your thighs and stroked up your stocking clad leg, “As if I need Viagra when I’ve got you”.

You went to say something but Jason cut over you, his hands peeling away from the lace trimming on your hold ups. He pulled open the top drawer of his desk pulling out a slim black box with a crimson bow, “I have a gift for you actually”.

“A present?”, you took the box from him and frowned softly, “But it’s your birthday. I’m supposed to give you something”.

“I think you’ll like this though, open it”, Jason nudged the box in your hands and watched you intently. You noticed the corner of his eye twitching. Why was he so nervous?

“Are you sure?”.

“I’m 90% sure you’ll like it…”, he gave you a small smile trying to mask the panic building behind his eyes, “Maybe 80%…”.

A key to his apartment sat in that box. Something he’d never shared with anyone else in his life. It’d been an obvious choice for him, you barely left his home since you’d made things official. Half your stuff was littered around his place and, well, he liked it. He didn’t want it any other way.

Tugging the red ribbon, you looked into his eyes, “As long as it isn't a cheap purse, we're good”.

Jason scoffed, clearly unamused, “What have I ever bought you that’s cheap?”.

You grinned, “True…Though you tear my underwear off like it's cheap”.

He smirked cheekily before nodding back down to the box, “Just open the present princess”.

You opened the box slowly, a little unnerved with Jason’s own jittery behaviour. When you slipped the lid off, a soft gasp left your lips. There, sat neatly in black tissue paper was a key card to his apartment with your own personalised silver key-ring attached to it; the first letter of your name. Your breath hitched and you felt a burst of warmth rushing through you. It was obvious what this was. It wasn’t just a key to his home. It was an unspoken phrase.

Jason watched as you opened it, swallowing thickly at your silence, “Err, surprise?”. The worry started to curdle deep in his stomach. Maybe he’d read this all wrong. Maybe this was a step too far. The spiralling thoughts stopped when you spoke again, voice laced with joy.

“Are you certain this is what you want?”.

The question was serious but the bright smile on your face told Jason all he needed to know.

His hands stroked along your waist softly, “Of course, you practically live there anyways, you might as well have a key”.

Your fingers traced over the silver initial attached to the key card, a diamond dangled down behind it, “And whose fault is that?”.

“What can I say? I’ve got used to having you in my bed permanently…as well as waking up to you cooking for me”, he smirked, eyes sparkling with implicit love.

“Chauvinistic pig”, you laughed and jabbed his chest.

Jason swiped your hand quickly, pressing a kiss to the back of it smoothly, “Ah, ah, ah! You can’t talk to the birthday boy like that”.

You pressed your lips to his lightly, clutching the key-card tightly in your other hand. When you pulled back, you gave him a genuine smile, “Thank you”.

“Welcome home”, he murmured.

———

Standing in the en-suite bathroom, you swiped the deep rouge lipstick over your lips, puckering them to ensure even coverage. Your black dress hung loose on your frame, still waiting to be zipped at the back. Leaning forward, you eyed your make up closely, checking there weren't any smudges in sight.

Jason let his eyes rake over your body for a long second, before clearing his throat. The cough behind you made your eyes dart in the mirror, catching his gaze.

“You nearly done?”, he leisurely rested against the door frame, his tie hanging loose around his neck. You let your own gaze run over him in his dark grey suit. It did little to hide his large frame and muscles.

“Nearly, can you zip me up please?”, you shimmied your ass at him.

“Keep that up and we won’t get out the door”, he smirked, slapping your ass playfully before zipping your dress up slowly, ensuring his fingers grazed your bare skin.

You felt the dress become tight around your body and you turned around when he finished, slinking your arms around his neck, “Thanks”.

“You look beautiful”, he complimented, hands settling on your lower back, teasing the curve of your ass.

You flushed at his words. He always managed to catch you off guard. You’d been expecting something sexual, maybe a little explicit. But he swayed in with an honest compliment. Your hands found his tie and you tutted under your breath, fixing it up before tightening it.

“My mother always says loose ties signal when men are going to start misbehaving”.

“She isn’t wrong”, he chuckled huskily and let his hands travel south, groping you.

“Well there will be a bunch of other men to keep an eye on tonight, not including you”, you kissed the corner of his mouth and smiled, “I’m going to be exhausted keeping you all in check”.

Jason grinned, “When the others start loosening their ties, that's your cue to leave with the other women”.

“What if you start loosening your tie?”.

He growled quietly, gripping onto your waist, “Then it's our cue”.

You raised your eyebrow, “Our cue?”, you smirked stroking your hands over his chest, the heat pouring from him made you shiver.

He groaned under his breath, enjoying the way your hands travelled his body. He couldn’t get enough of you. The familiar coil started to tighten in his stomach.

Leaning up, you breathed quietly into his ear, purring softly, “And…What if I loosen your tie for you…Sir?”.

The sparks fired up his spine and he edged you back against the bathroom sink, lifting you up easily, “Then princess, you're just asking for it”.

Your fingers found their familiar place, wound through his dark locks sending waves of bliss through him. His kisses worked down your neck, stubble grazing over your weak spot. You tipped your head back against the mirror, whispering airily, “Jason…we’re going to be late…you know Bruce will only complain”. 

“Fuck it”, he grunted, “It’s my birthday”.

——

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Burn Bright White - Chapter Three.

Oh, okay then. Have another update. Big thanks to my beautiful Diana and Lindsey for offering their commentary. I do this for you both!

Previous Chapters - One Two

Tag list - In the comments. DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,844

Warnings - 18+ content, minors DNI! Also, while I have tried to remain as true to how Niklas is in reality as I can, I have to have a little creative freedom of my own with him in this. If you don’t like it, simply scroll on by. Bitching isn’t tolerated here. At all. Remember, it’s fiction, not a documentary ;) It’s also worth mentioning that while Taissa has qualities of being quite charming at times, she is not, by any means, a good person.

“Your boyfriend called. He wants another eighth. I’m all out until we collect, have you got anything?” 

Taissa and her brother worked under the same enterprise, her heading things in Helsinki usually, and him in Tampere. She travelled between the cities fairly frequently, having a residence in both. When she wasn’t staying in one, the other was rented out through Airbnb.  

Never let it be said she wasn’t enterprising. Both legitimately and criminally.  

If anything, Miika more worked for her than the other way around, his sister supplying him as well as a few other family members dotted around Finland. If there was a kingpin within the Aho family, it was definitely her. 

“I can feel that frown, you know.” 

Of course, and it was well-earned, referring to the man who she’d told him had indeed come onto her as her boyfriend. Her brother couldn’t help himself, though. He enjoyed getting a rise out of her. “I bet he’s wondering where you’ve vanished to, since I’ve been dropping his deals round for the last two weeks.”  

Well, she had said work harder, and she supposed he had been at the rate he’d been purchasing cocaine and speed from them. The truth was, Niklas was barely denting them with his usual regularity; he was only being persistent in his purchases because he wanted to see her.  

And fuck, how she wanted to see him. Game playing and teasing aside, it had taken all the resolve she could muster, every last drop of it, to have walked away from him outside of the club. She knew a big dick bulge when she felt it, craving ever since to be pinned beneath the weight of the man it was attached to and fucked within an inch of her sanity.  

Still, the payoff would be worth the wait. If only she knew, though, how heavily he desired her, from just one evening so briefly in her company.  

“I have a couple left, tell him yes,” she spoke, opening her car window wider and lighting a cigarette. “Don’t tell him it’s me dropping off, though.” 

Miika snorted softly, shaking his head. “What game are you playing with this man, sis? You do know what you’re getting yourself in for, don’t you? Guy’s a fucking whacko. I mean it.” Pausing, he lit a joint, inhaling deeply. “He’s worse than you.” 

Charming. “Fuck you.” 

“Thinking you’re hot shit because you’re a sociopath,” he teased, feeling his sister’s ire radiating, even over the telephone. “No, to be serious, he’s a bipolar schizophrenic. He isn’t your average run of the mill coke head.” 

No, he absolutely wasn’t. “I can handle him.” 

“It’s you fucking handling him that worries me,” her brother scoffed, Taissa rolling her eyes. 

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” she spoke firmly. 

Oh, the mistake he’d made in asking her to do him a favour, sending her straight into the firing line of a man he knew she’d take an interest in. A mentally volatile one at that. “Again, this is what worries me, Tai.” 

If there was one person she truly adored in this world, it was her brother. He was her best friend, too, one of three people she would genuinely move mountains for. Miika, his girlfriend Carla and her father were they. Others meant little to her, Taissa not being particularly gregarious beyond using people for what she could get out of them. It would be very fair to say her misanthropic streak ran deep.  

It was, after all, the hallmark of sociopathy.  

“I’ll be fine. I have some things to do, so tell him within three hours.” Her things to do consisted of getting her hair blow dried straight with a treatment, going shoe shopping and having a massage.  

With the shoe shopping, she spoiled herself with the pair of open toed, spiked heeled leopard print platforms she’d been eyeing for a while, and with the massage, she definitely imagined Niklas’s hands running in a firm, oily glide over her limbs instead of the man who actually worked all of her tension out. She left feeling a lot more relaxed, except in one specific place, having fantasised about the big, tattooed brute she was en route to throughout the duration, of course.  

Calming herself down proved tricky, since it had been a few weeks since she’d last had a man between her legs, Taissa knowing that if she was a slave to anything, it was her own rampant libido. She also knew that when she was ovulating, her desire went through the fucking roof, as she was right then. 

She had two courses of action. Plan A, mercilessly tease him some more, then go home and set about herself with a few of her favourite sex toys to satiate her need, or plan B. Fuck him, fuck him so well that he’d never cease to crave her, and then withdraw until he was virtually on his knees begging her to fuck him again.  

Both had their appeal, and no matter which she chose, she’d still remain in control. Also, a fun idea how to further play with him entered her head on the drive over, giggling to herself as she imagined the way he would react to a little game of hide and seek.  

Pulling up outside, she went about putting her plan into action, her casual flip flops exchanged for the high heels that would boost her diminutive height considerably. The thrill of it hummed through her as she left the car and entered the apartment block, smiling, hardly able to contain herself. This? This was going to be glorious... 

It was a good job that Niklas’s bathroom was right by the front door, because between the blare of music filtering through his apartment and the noise of the shower he was taking, he wouldn’t have heard the loud knocking upon his door.  

“Alright, fuck!” he yelled, the door being rapped with speedy knuckles once more as he secured a towel around his waist and headed out to let Miika in. Only it wasn’t the elder of the Aho offspring waiting on the other side.  

“Oh, look,” she purred, eyeing him up and down, her insides radiating in bright burn at the sight. “You’re all wet.” Ducking under his arm, she drifted into the apartment, Niklas experiencing the usual at seeing her, his heartbeat accelerating in an instant. She might have looked quite casual in the long, dark grey cotton dress she wore, but how it hugged every curve so very pleasingly.  

He could barely keep his mouth from broadening as he closed the door, wiping the grin from his face as he turned to her. “As you can see, I have no cash on me. Wait a second, it’s in my jeans.”  

“Before you get it,” she began, reaching to halt him, steering him back to face her, hormones going into overdrive at how very nearly naked he was. She didn’t like overly muscular guys at all. Give her a tall man with thickness and a bit of a tummy any day, and she would eat him alive. “Would you like your cocaine first?” 

He raised a questioning eyebrow. “I thought it was cash first with you?” 

Placing her keys and phone down on the hallway table, she backed away, resting her hands to her hips, cocking her head. “I know you’re good for it. You want your cocaine? Come find it. It’s... somewhere upon my person.”  

Little minx. Lifting his chin, he walked to her, eyes burning blue fire as his finger slid beneath the strap of her dress. “You realise this means a thorough examination?”  

She nodded. 

“That I will have to slowly take off all of your clothes to find it?”  

Her tongue flicked between her lips, and it set his insides ablaze. “I’m counting on it.”  

He couldn’t tell whether this was her about to give him the green light to fuck her, or more of the game she’d been playing since they’d first met, but fuck, if that wasn’t the goddamned thrill of it. Taking the other strap of her dress, he carefully lowered them, the uncovering of her body undertaken slowly, as if unwrapping a gift in order to savour the joy of revelation a little longer. 

He could feel his cock begin to harden as he lowered the dress further, her tits pushed together by a black bra he could have ripped from her with his teeth, had he not been enjoying the slow seduction quite as much as he was. A simple tug over her hips had the dress pooling at her ankles, Taissa stepping from it, biting the corner of her lip.  

How he held himself back from flattening her against the nearest wall, he didn’t know. Fuck, she was perfect.  

Seeing her, such alluring, feminine beauty, he wondered for a second what the fuck a woman so stunning saw in someone like him. He’d professed quite openly that he didn’t know what it was that women saw in him, despite his blunt confidence around them exuding very much to the contrary. The desire that danced through her eyes like a storm upon the sea knocked such thoughts from his head, though, the palpable weight of her want boring into him through such a beautiful gaze.  

His hand slid to her back, his heart crashing against his ribcage like a war drum, easily flicking the fastening of her bra undone between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it away to reveal a set of tits he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into. There was no cocaine to be found within, even though he’d almost forgotten that was what he was searching for to begin with.  

Standing there, welded to the spot by the weight of his gaze, she had to hold back from wrapping herself around him, feeling her insides beginning to throb and tingle almost aggressively with arousal. Her muscles corded, her breath catching in her throat at the sensation of his fingers slowly trailing down her body, over her sternum and abdomen, slipping into the small, black thong she wore. 

Grasping the bag of contraband between his fingers, he pulled it out, placing it on the table beside her phone. That’s where she should have simply stepped back, pulled her dress on and demanded her money, but fuck. She couldn’t.  

The bind he had her in was not one she could extract herself from, being that close to him, both barely dressed, his hand slowly delving back into her underwear. He leaned to her, tongue dragging a slow lick up the side of her neck, pressing a kiss much softer than she’d expected, his fingers roaming into the soft dew of her slit.  

Feeling how wet she was, his arm muscles tensed in appreciation, a shuddered breath fluttering against her neck, another kiss placed, followed by another. He paused only to grasp her thong, snapping the thin material with a tug, sending shockwaves through her. 

When his fingertips began to glide in a slow, soft stroke over her clit, her legs almost gave way, his other hand moving to splay at the small of her back, clasping her so she didn’t fall.  

“Mmhm,” he hummed, tongue flicking teasingly just below her ear. “I know exactly what to do with a woman’s body.” 

The need to exert dominance, return to driving the situation rather than playing passenger to her roaring yearning, she realised, wasn’t anywhere near as strong as her need for him. She’d have perhaps experienced some sort of dismay at that too, had she not been so blindingly turned on. 

Clutching his chest in a vain hope to steady herself brought no such bracing, only pulling her further into the fire. It was caustic, the heat of his damp skin, the way the soft, dark blonde hairs felt beneath her palms as it heaved with laboured breaths. Sometimes, she supposed, the alchemy between two bodies longing for the other was just too hazardous a mix to extract from, turning her head, their mouths finally meeting in a hungry clash.  

It was a carnivorous display of feral longing, Niklas grasping her waist and lifting her easily, her dainty form wrapping around him as he backed her against the wall, her hand reaching for the only thing that still divided them. The towel fell, her fingers curling around his cock, guiding it to where she streamed for him, slick and hot cut through by the kind of thickness that knocked the breath from her lungs as he filled her. Fuck... oh, fuck, he felt so good.  

There was no finesse to it, her insides assaulted by a mindless sexual battering, but god, if that wasn’t exactly what she needed; to simply be fucked...and fucked hard. Wailing against the onslaught of his mouth as they shared dirty, messy kisses, she was bowled over completely by the power of his fuck, given no choice but to submit to it. 

The sound of her helpless cries spurred him further, pounding her against the smooth, white painted wall, pulling his mouth from hers and grinning almost sinisterly. “Yeah, that’s what you get, making me wait for two weeks to be inside you.”  

Pulling her away, his hand met her ass in a series of hard, unyielding spanks, the noise echoing off the wall he then forcefully drove her back against, burying his mouth at the side of her neck, his hands clutched hard beneath her slender thighs. The feel of her heels digging into his ass as he railed her only spurred him further, made him mindless, the electric connection between them sparking bright. 

The lewd sound of him driving into her again and again filled the air, his moans deep, barbarous, Taissa’s grip around his shoulders slackening, her nails digging into the thick of his wide back and shredding his tattooed flesh. God, the man could fuck.  

It was beyond feral, an all-out display of carnage, her body banging against the wall as she gripped on around him tightly, more scratches added to his skin, the pain of it causing dark heat to mist through him. It drove him headlong into the abyss, tongue touring her throat, biting her, groaning like a beast. 

Mmm, yes. That was the very word she’d choose to describe him, could she even form coherent thought. 

The hot girth of his cock stretched her tender walls, the glide through the soaking mess of her sending heat roaring up her spine, the grind of his body against hers flushing glimmers to burst through her. It was nothing but frantically delivered sexual energy, fucked wildly, embers glowing as their bodies charged to the peak of it.  

Taissa topped first, her hips bucking wildly against him as the pleasure shimmered right to her marrow, her fluttering cunt pulling his own release from him so hard, he felt like he was about to pass out as he came deep within the viscid clench of her. Biting her neck, he growled it out as he fucked every wave into her, his orgasm burning bright white, light headed bliss ensnaring him.  

His entire body tingled, hers shaking uncontrollably, Niklas falling back and hitting the hallway floor with a thud, his legs unable to keep him upright after coming so hard, he barely remembered his own name. It had been a while, since he’d had sex that earth shattering, feeling like he was floating adrift of himself.  

He was so mentally shattered from it that he barely even noticed her heave herself up on shaky legs, pull her clothes back on at speed and exit his apartment without word, Taissa colliding with the hallway walls as she tried to walk in a straight line. She was more like a foal on brand new, juddering legs, reaching the elevator and hitting the button, her chest still heaving in aftermath of what could only be described as cataclysmic sex.  

Staggering in as soon as the doors opened with a smooth whoosh, she gripped the rail, but it did little to prevent her from collapsing, her entire body shaking like a live current had been passed through every muscle, every nerve.  

“Fucking hell.” she panted. She’d gauged that he’d give her nothing short of brutality, the kind of sexual bludgeoning that would leave her feeling nothing short of satisfied, but truly, what they’d shared had gone way beyond that. No man had ever literally fucked her so thoroughly that she could barely walk. If that was what he could do to her in the space of five minutes...  

While she hauled herself up off the elevator floor, Nikas remained on his back in the hallway, beyond dazed, still shuddering pleasantly. He’d get up eventually. Maybe when he didn’t feel like he’d just been hit by a tornado.  

Laughing to himself, he realised it then. He still didn’t even know the tornado’s name, but fuck, how he knew he’d happily let her whirl around him again, any time she wanted to.  

[breannasfluff]

Winter headcanons: Having grown up in a tropical island, Wind is the least used to snow. He has some tolerance for the cold from being on the sea, but several other members had to help him manage walking on slick surfaces. (Memories of slipping off the ice island in WW haunt me.)

Wild goes into Hunter gatherer mode extra hard when winter rolls around. Not because he himself nearly died in the cold but because Flora nearly froze herself training, and he won't have someone he cares about being affected by the cold on his watch.

Of the four in Four's head, it's the volatile Blue who loves winter the most because you get free reign to pelt show at people.

Time gets old man pains in his joints from the cold. He won't admit it but they all know.

Hyrule is the best at making snowmen, he makes a perfect one every time and gets his up the fastest. He totally doesn't gloat about it.

Legend kind of withdraws a little in the winter, like a tree sleeping without leaves until spring. He has no idea he even does it.

Warriors' scarf isn't quite warm enough to stand of the cold, but he doesn't care.

Twilight shifts into Wolf form more in the winter mostly for warmth and partly because he just gets more fun out of snow the way a canine would.

Am I missing anyone? Oh!

Ravio doesn't care for winter, it's cold and wet and the farts are short. But he can't deny that he gets better sales that time of the year.

I’m pretty sure the farts on Ravio is a typo, but it is sending me 🤣

Love these!

[sunflouwerhabit]

sunday musings…

hi friends! it is currently rainy and disgusting here in the Land. i might be dying (or, at least, i am experiencing the onset of a cold and have earned the right be a baby about it) and i am quite simply coming off the worst month of my life. things just feel so… bleak? so grey? i feel like i fell through a portal into the wrong universe on october 16th and am going to spend the rest of my life trying to find my way back.

i still just don’t know what to do. like.

i go about my day. i try to find solace in the little things. i smile when i’m talking to my friends or playing with my bunnies and like… life goes on, you know? even when it feels like it shouldn’t. i’m writing, i’m living, i’m taking it day by day. in most moments, i’m okay. but then i think about the future and the years to come and it’s just… god. something in me died with liam, and then something died in me last tuesday with the US election. it’s also grim. i feel like i’n a storm cloud casting shadows over everything that i love.

i know i’ll be okay, someday. i just don’t know when that will be.

in the meantime… i’m going to keep leaning into the things that make me happiest: writing, music, fandom. this community means more to me than i will ever put into words and i’m just so, so, so grateful that i will always have this.

last thursday, i resumed posting bring me home. section 3 was released today. for a very long time, i didn’t know if i would be able to. i didn’t know if i would ever write again. i didn’t know how to go back to a story that began in 2018 and celebrates a life we’ll never get: the boys growing up together, as best friends and a family and being so, so, so happy. ot5 is the heart of bring me home. it’s the heart of every story i write. that thought kills me. it also makes me so, so grateful that- as a fandom- we have created so many universes where the boys are together and everything is okay.

fiction is so healing.

before making the decision to return to BMH, i texted my lovely beta reader and told her that, in the wake of the election, i felt powerless. it’s such a helpless, dark feeling. even now, there is nothing i can do to fix what happened, BUT. but. i can release my stories. i can post bring me home. i can hopefully give my readers a reprieve, letting them live in a world where things are lighter. i can write my queer stories filled with queer characters who are soft, lovely, thoughtful, bright, brilliant, happy, and queer. i can write about queer couples loving each other. i can celebrate queer joy.

that’s what i’m going to do. it’s all i got. it’s nothing and it’s everything.

i hope you’re all doing okay. i am sending you all of my love. if you ever need anything, feel free to reach out. i am incredibly volatile right now- some days i need to be glued to my phone, others i can’t be online. some days i need to talk and some days i need space- but i will respond when i can, i promise. we’re a fandom, a community, and we can get through this together. grief is ugly and complex. it’s grey. it’s love.

see you on thursday for section 4 of bring me home 🤍

forever celebrating queer joy,

lexie <3