#he deliberately provokes her into chasing him

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale x Tav Enemies to Lovers Part 12

Oh boy, I am excited about this one. Enjoy it folks. Gale's point of view.

As Gale handed Tav the variety of spices, her expression suggested she was presented with something vile and putrid. Gale couldn’t suppress the chuckle that bubbled from his lips and when she shot him a withering glance, he blushed sheepishly, his lips turning into a lopsided grin. “Sorry - it’s just - if you could have seen your face… you would have thought I was handing you lumps of Myconid flesh to cook.” Gale gazed down at Tav, his chest tightening as she studied each of the bottles carefully. It was endearing, how her eyes narrowed and brow furrowed in confusion, trying to deduce what was in each glass.  

Gale bit the inside of his lip and sat beside her, resting his fingers over hers on the jar she was holding. He wanted - needed - to chase the rush that clouded his judgement anytime their skin made contact. He had forgotten what it felt like, to touch mortal skin in this way… where there is an undercurrent of things unspoken, where the fabric of one’s DNA shakes with anticipation. It was electric, intoxicating and it was a sensation he had forgotten. One benefit of being mortal, he supposed. 

“This is thyme,” he said, fingering the plant and relishing in the warmth of her finger against his. He felt redness flower across his face, betraying his desire despite the innocent topic. “It can be peppery and sweet…” Gale frowned and laughed, pulling his hand back to brush his thumb across his lip. “I’m not sure I’ve ever tried to describe its flavor before. It’s more difficult than I anticipated.” 

“Gale admitting a flaw?” Tav said, clutching her chest in mock astonishment. “Mark it in the books.” Was she teasing him? After she had been yelling at him moments ago? Gale shook his head from the whiplash although he found it exciting, curious. Like the unsolvable puzzles that stumped many of their classmates, Gale needed to understand her. He realized despite all their time together, both in youth and at present, he hardly knew anything about her at all. 

Gale pursed his lips and felt the desire stir. It provoked him, a budding irritation meshing with something more. Despite his endeavors, the feeling would not be ignored. His brows rose and he let out a low, deliberate laugh and made a light ‘tut’ sound. “It doesn’t happen often, so don’t get too confident alright? You don’t even know what thyme is.” Gale felt his mouth go dry when he saw the red that streaked Tav’s face after he spoke, how she looked up beneath full lashes, her eyes set on his. 

My gods.  

Perhaps it was the way the fire danced across her skin and hair, or the way she held the glass like it was drow poison. Perhaps it was her sudden vulnerability, or ineptitude with this basic survival skill. Gale’s mind went off on a tangent, bewildered: Seriously, how could she not know how to cook? Anything? Not even an egg? Not a piece of toast? Truly, nothing? With that clever mind of hers? How did she take care of herself? She must have been living off something... she didn’t even try to learn? That can’t possibly be.. I must have learned how to cook my first meal when I was eight, at least… did she try to use the weave, I mean I just… 

But the thoughts were simply a distraction from how he felt unsteadied. As if he was asked to stand on one foot and someone pushed him over. It was a surreal experience and felt outside of his body, his face moving towards hers as if by magnetic force. The way her breath hitched as Gale began to lean brought him back to the present and he paused. 

He inhaled steadily, his lips parting and pulled his head back from her. “Well…” Gale cleared his throat though his voice was thick with arousal, “it goes well with lemon, rosemary, and it can take a chicken and make it fresh, vibrant even. Erm…” he sighed, the air thick between them and felt almost as if it would materialize as a solid wall. 

“Am I interrupting?” Astarion’s caustic voice cut their tension and Tav scooted away from Gale, her eyes flashing to Astarion and then back to Gale. Her brows furrowed softly and her eyes hinted at a deep, unaddressed sadness. Gale felt his heart reach out for hers, begging her to stay with him. 

But she wouldn’t. Of course she wouldn’t - he’d given her no reason to. 

So when Tav spoke it took him entirely by surprise. “I’m not sure - Gale?” When Tav’s eyes locked with his he felt his stomach implode on itself and he nearly lunged for her lips. He shook his head a little and for the first time in a long while was at a loss for words. 

“Ugh,” Astarion said, breaking Gale’s trance. Astarion’s arms waved in front of Gale’s face, as if to test if he were awake. “Hello? Is there a Gale in there I can speak to? Or has the orb fed on that brilliant mind of yours too?” 

Gale’s face darkened and his nostrils flared. “I’m fine, thank you for your concern. How generous of you.” 

“Pah!” Astarion’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth hung wide open, a slight smirk on his lips. Gale read the hunter’s gaze in Astarion’s eyes as he walked slowly towards them, one arm hooked across his chest to support the other. He was looking at his nails. “You know, your personality doesn’t do a lot for you, Gale.” Astarion looked down at Gale from his nails, his lips downturned. “I’m surprised a Goddess picked you as a chosen, let alone a lover. You’re as dull as your food is.” 

“Hm.” Gale stood, his fingers curling into his palms, his nails biting into the soft flesh. He cupped two fingers around his lips, the other on his hip and took a step towards Astarion, a smug grin playing at the corners of his mouth. He leaned forward, “Thank you for your feedback. I shall be informing our companions that tonight, you are the chef and if they have any complaints they can take it up with you.” 

Gale shot his eyes to Tav who looked mortified, ashamed, and pleading. Gale shook his head almost imperceptibly and headed towards Karlach’s tent. 

**

“The fucking nerve of him…” Gale was shouting, his hands flaying as he paced through the tall grass, arguing with the invisible Astarion. It was late and Gale had dragged Karlach out to seek her counsel. Rather, to rant. As Gale paced wildly, Karlach watched in abject horror and simultaneous glee. Gale knew she was probably getting a kick out of this and would likely try to provoke him further. 

“Okay, grandpa, settle down,” she said affectionately but Gale turned and frowned dramatically, pointing a finger. I knew it, he thought. 

“This is no time for joking.” 

“Actually this is the perfect time for joking.” Gale huffed and Karlach responded with a chuckle. “You need to cool down and I’m just trying to dump some water on those fires there, metaphorically speaking.” She laughed again at her own joke though her voice was kind, “Morbid, but true.” 

Gale’s anger was no match for Karlach’s infectious energy. It was difficult to be angry when Karlach was as she was. So earnest and exuding with life. Happy to be alive, and grateful for it, unbothered by what had yet to come. She was not trapped in the endless loop of nostalgia, of what could have been - she lived fully and unapologetically in the present. It was a trap Gale needed desperately. She also shared an intimate understanding with what it meant to be faced with the possibility of death before the tadpoles. Gale couldn’t remember the last time he had a friend like Karlach. 

For the matter, he couldn’t recall the last time he had a human friend. 

Apart from Elminster, but he hardly counted. The realization struck Gale with a profound sadness and he shuddered involuntarily. “Oh.” 

Karlach gave a small head-shake in bewilderment from Gale’s abrupt change in demeanor. “You and her are cut from the same cloth, I’ll tell you that much.”

Gale frowned, crossing his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Oh my gods…” Karlach laughed harder now, exasperated and tapped a finger against her skull. “What is it about Wizard’s mate? Always needing to tell them the proper answer? Open your eyes, Gale. Not a few hours earlier Tav was crying over that ring I gave you and then maybe an hour later was chatting you up, flirting, laughing at the fireside.” 

“She was not flirting.” Gale shot, insistent, and looked down. That couldn’t be true. It was all in Gale’s head, the energy, the sensations - it was because he’d been deprived of human contact for so long, and she evoked such a visceral response in him. He had loved her before he even knew what love felt like. He then returned his gaze, almost hopefully to Karlach. “Was she?” 

Karlach sighed dramatically and closed her eyes, sighing and ran her hands over her face. “I can’t do this with you mate, I’m tired and I’m going to sleep.” She turned to head back, “I’ve already spelt it out for you, since apparently you are incredibly smart and, I say this with love, incredibly stupid at the same time. Open your eyes, or don’t, but don’t say I didn’t try to tell you. Don’t let jealousy or insecuirty get in your way of a meaningful connection. If you could see what I do… you wouldn’t be asking me these questions. I'd do anything to touch someone again - and you have the possibility of that, and more besides. Don't waste that.” 

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale x tav #bg3 #bg3 brainrot #gale #gale x tav enemies to lovers #gale x tav fic #bg3 fanfiction

[theamityelf]

Can't I know more of DD Makoto dynamic with Hajime, Fuyuhiko, and Chiaki? Does Komaeda still got DD or not? How would his dynamic with DD Makoto in both case?

I think I'll say for now that Nagito doesn't get despair disease, specifically because Junko considers them really similar and doesn't want to do the same thing twice. Like, I think an argument can be made that she gave Nagito despair disease in canon as just a proxy because he was the closest thing she had to Makoto (in her view). But here, in her eyes, Nagito is way more useful healthy, and Makoto is way more useful diseased.

Nagito would almost certainly want to be among those caring for the ill, and I think he would have a real appreciation for the implications of everyone's symptoms. "I see. I'm sure they would all hate to see themselves like this. A despair capable of overcoming such strong personalities? I'm so excited to see it defeated!"

That said, I think Hajime, Fuyuhiko, Mikan, etc. would not want Nagito around the sick ones. Nagito would be in a very particular place where he wants to make himself useful at the hospital but everyone is aware that it could be really dangerous to leave someone so interested in the killing game alone with any of the ill (especially Ibuki).

And I think the result of this is that Nagito and Hajime would both spend a lot of time around Makoto together. (More on that later!)

I'm deciding whether Chiaki would be there, because in canon she is among those quarantined at the motel, but I do think she would be really good at handling diseased Makoto, just because she's so good at taking everything in stride and just calmly going, "Stop that." And I like to imagine diseased Makoto causally yanking out her game cartridge while she's playing it and her huffing with the most irritation anyone has ever seen from her. So I think I will loop her in with them.

I think Fuyuhiko would be constantly annoyed by diseased Makoto; they would be in constant conflict, and it would be really funny. Earlier in the killing game, I imagine Fuyuhiko would toss threats and barbs at Makoto kind of a lot, and Makoto would just take it and move on with whatever he's saying or doing, but now Fuyuhiko (through whatever means; there's no telling who's still alive at this point) has undergone some character development, and he cares about the people here, and as comeuppance for his past behavior, he's left to get explosively mad at a Makoto who will deliberately provoke him. Just chasing Makoto through the hospital threatening to murder him if he doesn't sit down and eat his food!

Whereas Hajime I think would be a little reflective about it. I think seeing Makoto in a state of poor health and acting really out of character would make him realize how close they've become and how much he's come to care about and rely on Makoto. I'm imagining some introspective moments where he's just like, "The real Makoto isn't like this at all. The real Makoto would be encouraging me not to give up."

(Honestly, since there's no telling what the cast looks like at this point in the story until I actively plot all that out, I could see some of the characters who are dead at this point in canon choosing to help out, or even taking the place of Akane or Ibuki as diseased, but for the purposes of this post we'll ignore that.)

Maybe the group organizes in such a way where Mikan cycles between patients to check on and Fuyuhiko, Chiaki, Nagito, and Hajime watch whichever two patients she isn't with. So, for example, Mikan is checking on Akane, so Fuyuhiko and Chiaki are with Ibuki and Nagito and Hajime are with Makoto. Mikan moves on to check on Ibuki, so Fuyuhiko and Chiaki go to sit with Akane. Mikan goes to check on Makoto, so Nagito and Hajime go to check on Ibuki. It just kind of cycles like that.

They split up differently when one or more of the caretakers need to rest, so sometimes Hajime, Chiaki, or Fuyuhiko have to watch someone alone, but Nagito is never watching anyone alone. He's not allowed. (Officially. He'll sneak in if he can.)

Nagito and Hajime have very different reactions to diseased Makoto. Like I said, seeing Makoto like this makes Hajime feel strongly how much he likes regular Makoto, so he's pretty upset each time this Makoto acts rude and contrary, but he's also committed to helping him. Whereas Nagito is thinking of it more in terms of what can be learned about what kind of person Makoto is, that this is the version of himself that the despair disease creates, and he's deeply curious as to how the disease works and whether one of the infected can overcome its effects. He's watching the patients very closely to see what they'll do. He's smiling and acting relatively normal, and he's encouraging Hajime to stay positive, but he's also kind of willing Makoto to prove himself, in even these circumstances. He'd be messing with Makoto a bunch.

When it's revealed that Mikan had the Remembering Disease and, as I mentioned in the other post, attempted to kill Makoto, Nagito just consumes the idea that Makoto overcame despair, both by not killing anyone under its effects like Mikan did and by successfully evading Mikan. He might clap.

#danganronpa #makoto in sdr2 au #makoto naegi #chiaki nanami #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #fuyuhiko kuzuryu

[bearhugsandshrugs]

The Gorsimp Chronicles – Chapter 12

Gortash x Tav | Explicit

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Fic is written in turns by @bloodlessbhaalbabe and me! Dividers indicate POV changes.

THIS IS A SMUTTY ONE AND IT'S SO GOOD I'M SO PROUD OF US :D

Enver chuckled deep within his chest and spun her legs around so that her back was facing him. His hand slid up from her stomach to her chest and pushed softly until she leaned back against him, and her head rested on his shoulder. Enver kissed her jaw and shoulder, content with taking his sweet time, tasting every part of her body that he could. 

“I love it when you dress up for me,” he said, using his teeth to pull at her ear lobe while his hand traced the soft skin around her breast, fingers trailing over her nipples, and giving it a slight squeeze. 

Tav gasped softly. “Yeah?” 

“Mhmm, between that sheer dress earlier and the set you took off a moment ago, it’s hard to pick a favorite.” Enver hooked Tav’s leg’s over his knees and spread his legs apart forcing Tav to slide down just slightly, until her ass was snug against Enver’s hard cock, and breeze flowed between her legs. “Although, what you’re wearing right now will always take the cake.” 

Tav giggled and slid her hands back to wrap behind Enver’s back. She relaxed into his touch and allowed her eyes to flutter closed. Enver’s other hand trailed up Tav’s knee to her thigh, squeezing the muscle before moving up, feathering briefly over her core, and resting on her lower stomach. He wasn’t about to go all in. He wanted to edge Tav before they’ve even started. To make her crave his touch, to need that relief of pressure, as she feels her own arousal swelling inside of her. 

The way Enver held her gently but firmly made Tav relax against his body while his teases and slow, deliberate touches gradually tensed up her muscles. 

It felt good, simply being with him in the moment. Tav brought her hands back front, tracing the veins on his forearms with her nails until he let out a small chuckle. She knew he likely didn’t want her to take action too much on her own, but she couldn’t resist provoking him a little. 

So she took one of his hands and brought it up to her mouth, planting kisses on all of his knuckles and fingertips before she started to suck on his digits one by one.

It was too difficult not to do anything. He wouldn’t expect her to just… give in. Would he?

Enver pulled his fingers out of her mouth with a ‘pop’. 

“Thank you for making my fingers sufficiently wet, but something tells me I won’t need it.” 

He brought his hand down between her legs and dragged his fingers through her folds. Another chuckle rumbled from his chest as he spread apart her lips and began to circle the pads of his fingers around her clit. 

“I knew you’d be wet, Tav, but you’re practically dripping already. Was it something I said? The possibility of leaving you on the cusp of painful overstimulation. You’ll come to find out that I’m a much more patient man than you initially thought. Let’s see what your limit is?” Enver pulled back on her leg even more and added more pressure to her bundle of sensitive nerves, pulling out a gasping moan from Tav as she gripped onto his leg for support. “Might as well get the first one done and over with, my dear. There’s plenty more to come – so to speak…” 

Of course Tav was wet. She got turned on by seeing Enver go after what he wanted, especially if that was her. In truth, it had been one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place. 

She arched her back, pressing her shoulders and neck into him as she tried to meet his movements with her hips, her body half chasing, half demanding on its own. Her nails dug into the leather of his pants, not really pushing through, but there’d be small crescent moons on it for sure. Not that she cared. 

“A-am I… getting paid extra each t-time I come?”, Tav stuttered through gritted teeth, trying to sound more in control than she actually was. Enver chuckled behind her, full of himself, and smacked her clit with his flat hand. The moan that flew out of Tav’s mouth was loud and shameless, her eyes rolling back in pleasure.

She was panting, and melting under his touch, and Enver didn’t relent, so she gave into the sensations until pleasure rippled through her in waves, her orgasm drawing out a high-pitched moan. 

“Gods, Enver”, Tav sighed when she could speak again, “I’m so into you, you have no idea.”

Enver chuckled again and brought his fingers up to his mouth and slid his tongue across the dampness Tav left behind. He moaned as if it was finer than the delicacies in the restaurant below. “You are delicious – like a little treat.” 

He returned his hand back to her clit despite Tav still huffing breaths from her last orgasm and began to circle his fingers once more. His other hand slipped under the one at work and slid in a single digit. Tav clamped down onto his finger as he curled upwards inside of her. It wasn’t going to be enough, he knew this, but if the little whore wanted his cock so bad she would have to beg for it like the cockslut she was. 

“You look so beautiful like this,” He groaned into her ear as her hips pushed back against his cock. “Panting and sweaty by only my hands.” 

He nipped at her neck and sucked on her tender skin until a nasty mark bloomed. 

“I love the way you feel and how I can tell you’re holding yourself back. I wonder how many it will take before it is too much. The thought alone is tantalizing, but I am a man of science and I must test my theory.” 

Tav wailed out a small “Wait” when his fingers found her again, but he ignored her once more. She half-heartedly pushed against his forearm, trying to get him to stop, but he wouldn’t budge. 

What did he mean, she was holding back? She was confused, and already climbing towards a new high, and a tiny bit provoked. He hadn’t moved from this chair in an hour, he hadn’t even taken his shoes off; meanwhile she dripped all over his pants and was fighting to keep any logical thoughts going. 

Maybe that’s what he means, Tav thought in passing, the consideration immediately gone again as he curled the single finger inside of her into a different angle. 

She clawed at his hands and arms with her nails, leaving red streaks as she sought an outlet, or maybe an ending. Her hips jerked away from him when the sensations were too much, which was increasingly happening, and Enver tightened his grip on her from behind, biting down on her neck until she groaned. 

“You’re a bastard”, she scoffed in between whimpers before letting her head fall back again, mouth hanging open in a silent plea. This time, it took her body longer to come, some parts of her resisting the onslaught of pleasure Enver was so set on giving her. 

Why was he only using one fing–  Tav couldn’t finish her thought but it dawned on her, somewhere around the edges of her frayed consciousness, that he was doing it on purpose. But she couldn’t argue. There were no words that formed on her lips to demand what she needed. Only one thing slipped out, over and over and over again until she begged: “Please.”

 “Yes, that’s my good girl,” he whispered as he slid in a second finger, curling them both upward, and using the palm of his hand to press down on her pubic bone as he continued to circle her swollen clit. “Please, what, Tav? What do you want?” 

He leaned up and forward just a bit to get a better position, a better angle, as he fucked Tav with his middle and ring fingers. He was unrelenting and not letting her cool down from her last orgasm, riding off of the muscle spasms and pressure build up from before. He was drunk on the sounds she was making and the panicked hands gripping into his trousers. 

“One more, Tav. One more and I’ll give you want you want, but you have to ask nicely,” Enver spread his legs as far as he could and just as Tav was nearing her release, he replaced the hand that stimulated her clit with his thumb and wrapped his hand around her throat, pressing into the sides, as she choked out her release all over his hand, dripping onto the floor. 

Tav groaned out a wheezy, “Fuck me… please” as she came.

Enver’s reply didn’t register beyond the fact that she could practically hear the smirk on his face in his tone. Her heart was beating too fast and too loudly. When he pulled his hands away she sobbed out a short sound of frustration and relief, her clit still throbbing, even without being touched. 

Tav batted her eyes open to notice that the darkness spell had already stopped working, with the room still dimly lit from the floating candles and the moonlight outside. 

Somehow someone told her gently to get up, Enver,  Tav thought, but her legs would not collaborate so she let herself sink down on the floor in front of them, lying down on her back with her legs falling to the sides, trembling slightly. 

Tav could feel the stockings she had taken off press into her back, so she moved to pull them out from under her as Enver stood and undressed, watching her, fascinated and intrigued. 

When she finally could speak again after a couple of cycles of breath, she balled up the stocking to throw it at him. “I should have tied you up with this, you smug asshole”, she chuckled. Surely they would take a break now. A few minutes, maybe more. Not waiting for his reply, she added: “But I’m glad you’re getting your money’s worth.”

“Oh, this is priceless,” he said as he shucked his pants down his legs, his aching cock coming up to softly slap himself on the belly while he was bent over. “But my money was spent so that I can fuck you like a whore and I haven’t done that yet.” 

Enver dropped to his knees below Tav’s legs and grabbed one of the pillows from the chair. He gently lifted her lower back and slid the pillow snuggly underneath so that her hips were perfectly lifted for him. 

“You were so sweet in pleading for me to fuck you and I’m more than happy to oblige,” Enver spread her legs apart and admired the way her cunt glistened with her juices in the candlelight. “This… you… is the best gift I could have ever received.I intend on making sure this is as enjoyable for you as it has been for me.” 

Enver rubbed the tip of his cock against her folds, spreading around the mess Tav made. Tav shuddered and let out a small squeak. Her body involuntarily twitched from the pressure. 

“Unless you want me to stop?” Enver questioned, pressing the head of his cock just barely into her entrance before pulling it out and continuing to rub it up and down her cunt. 

Tav whimpered at the stimulation and covered her face with her hands for a moment before huffing out a breath of air. “If you stop, I’ll kill you.” 

“That’s what I thought,” he replied and instantly thrust himself entirely into her until he bottomed out. Enver groaned at the feeling of her all around him and steadied himself a moment before leaning forward and capturing Tav’s mouth with his before pulling back out and sliding back in – with each movement pressing on the underside of her clit. The pillow offered the perfect angle. 

Tav moaned into Enver’s mouth when he kissed her, chasing his lips as he pulled back. Her head fell back onto the floor with a soft thud, but it didn’t even register. Nothing did except the way he fucked her.

Finally feeling him inside of her was overwhelming and exactly what she craved. While they’d slept together before, nothing could compare to the heightened sensations now, his girth stretching her, building pressure upon pressure as her body ached for more.

“Hells”, Tav sighed with half-closed eyes, “This is… ah—-“ She was interrupted by a moan, a reflexive response to Enver’s body sliding against her clit. “You’re so good to me”, she added hoarsely, trying to pull him in for a kiss, trying to hold onto him to regain some sense of control.

He chuckled and indulged her with one deep kiss, his tongue swirling against hers in a mess, before pulling back. Tav felt like she was jumping out of her skin – overstimulated and still needy there was little room left for coherence. 

She wanted to tell him how much she loved this, how hot he was, how she would be his whore forever if he asked her now, but all that tumbled out of her mouth were babbles and pleas and sobs. And then, his name, over and over again on her lips as she neared her climax.

Enver panted and grunted against Tav’s skin with each plunge. As Tav tightened around him, he slowed his movements, pulling out a frustrated whimper from Tav as she lost the build up of her orgasm. Enver smirked, he knew exactly what he was doing. He was going to make sure every single one of her orgasms were given on his terms. 

He leaned up and pushed one of Tav’s legs up until it was just about parallel to her head. Tav’s eyes rolled back as she was pretzeled into this position. He looked down in between her legs watching the way his cock disappeared inside of her. 

“Touch yourself for me,” Enver demanded and Tav didn’t hesitate before bringing her hand down to her core. “So obedient all of a sudden. Good.” 

Enver sped up his thrusts to match the pace of her hand and just as he could feel her tighten around him once more, he removed her hand and slowed down. 

“Fuck you!” Tav spat. Enver only smirked and ran his calloused fingers down the soft flesh of her thighs. 

“Now, now, Tav, I’ll give you what you want. What you’ve begged me for. What I’ve paid for,” Enver said, “You are mine, we know this, but I want to hear you say it and I want to believe it. You’re my whore. Say it and I’ll let you come.” 

He knew that he was pushing this whole display a little far, but he felt intoxicated and compelled to finish what he had started – finish this whole act and performance. Give Tav one last leg shaking, screaming, squirting orgasm before he could allow himself to finish. To watch his beloved Tav crumble just slightly by his hand and make her admit how much she loved this whole show, and even more so, how much she loved to be fucked by him. To give Tav everything she could have ever fantasized when she fantasized about fucking him. Then, and only then, would he be satisfied. 

“Yes. Yes, I am. Please”, Tav whimpered, trying to wriggle her hand free from his grip so she could touch herself again. 

But instead of giving her what she wanted, Enver stilled his movements completely and scolded her. “Ts, Tav. You can do better than that.”

She batted her eyelids open, fully, focusing on his face before she groaned with frustration, a small smile on her lips giving away that she wasn’t as annoyed as she pretended to be. Only needy. 

“Gods, you’re driving me crazy”, Tav croaked, trying to roll her hips into him so she could get some kind of friction, some kind of response, but Enver shook his head slowly, smirking. “Fine”, she huffed, “yes, yes I am your whore. And your slut. And anything you want.” 

Tav pulled at his hair but we wouldn’t bend down to kiss her, enjoying the control he had over her in that moment too much. “You want me to suck you off, swallow, then thank you? I’ll do it. Want to tie me to your bed so you can use me whenever you feel like it? Do it. I’ll do whatever you want, whenever, I’m yours, but please, please let me come.” Tav’s eyes were wild and she knew she was about to lose her mind, so she wasn’t above begging anymore. “Please Enver, I’ll be good, I’ll be so good for you, please–”

Enver groaned and smiled as he heard all of her pleads. In response, he gave her everything she wanted. “‘Atta girl. That’s all I wanted to hear.” 

He pressed down again onto her pubic bone and used the thumb on his other hand to circle her clit as he matched his thrusts with his movements. Tav’s breathing increased as she covered her face with her arm, biting into her own skin out of frustration. The pressure building up was immense and she could feel her legs shaking involuntarily as she got closer and closer. Her mind went hazy and her only thought was how she would stab Enver in the chest if he stopped now. 

Enver reveled in the moans and stutters of his name tumbling out of Tav’s mouth as if nothing else mattered but him and the things he was doing to her. A stream of “pleases” slurred together as he felt her walls clench around him. 

“You can come for me now,” Enver said and immediately Tav arched her back, curled her toes, and sucked in a ragged breath as she came hard on Enver’s cock. As soon as Enver saw the first spurt he lost control and spilled himself with a hard thrust deep inside of Tav’s dripping cunt with a soft half-said “ Fu–” at the back of his throat.

He slowly rode out the rest of their climax, both of them light-headed and panting heavily, twitching through the muscle spasms. Tav removed the arm over her face and let it drop on the floor next to her. A perfect bite mark left divots into the skin of her forearm. She looked up at the ceiling, dazed, with black kohl running down the sides of her cheeks, and an open mouthed, delirious smile plastered on her face. 

This time Tav didn’t have to ask, because Enver readily bent down to finally give her the kiss she’d wordlessly begged for before. She cupped his face with both of her hands, half in disbelief that he was hers now. That he had decided to let her in, a bit more, continuously making progress together each day.

“Wow”, Tav chuckled shyly when they pulled apart and Enver laid down next to her. She snuggled up into his arm that he tightly wrapped around her, his hand grazing over her skin in calming motions. “I love this version of you”, she added, speaking softly against his chest, “but then again I love every version of you.” 

Tav blushed, knowing she was overcome with emotions again, but it was true. Trying not to get too serious, she quickly added, joking: “And it’s good to know that I could always fall back on this type of occupation.”

She ran her hands slowly up and down his chest, following the trail of hair. Everything right now was good, and safe, and she closed her eyes to the sounds of air filling his lungs, his chest slowly rising and falling underneath her head. Sleep was gently pulling at her consciousness, dragging her under. Tav sighed, stilled, and drifted off.

Enver settled in beside Tav and pulled her close, pressing his lips against her forehead. He rested his chin on the top of her head and he smiled to himself while dragging his fingers up and down the soft, slightly carpet burned skin of Tav’s back. She shivered under his touch. The sound of his heart rate steadily declining in his ears as his breaths returned to a normal pace. 

“There’s no way anyone else is ever going to see that type of dancing. That’s for me and me alone if I am lucky,” Enver joked back. They sat in silence for a moment. Tav’s arms relaxed around him as her head pressed deeper against his chest as she gently fell asleep in Enver’s embrace. Enver looked down at Tav and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “And I love you too, Tav.” 

He wasn’t sure if that’s what she was trying to say without saying it, but he felt it undeniably in his chest. He had not felt more sure about anything in his life before. Despite them only being back within each other’s lives for a few days, it barely felt as though they had spent any time apart. Falling back into the swing of things, bickering like they used to, and talking about their future together. He wondered if Tav meant it when she mentioned staying with him, living with him, and even marrying him. He would take Tav any way he could. 

Tomorrow, he decided, they would return to Baldur’s Gate to revisit the bank to get his affairs in order if they decided to stay in Neverwinter and he hoped that Tav would go along with him as his partner in the matter. 

He smiled at the thought and then rolled his eyes at how soft she made him. His previous life of being known as a tyrant crumbled at her feet, but knew in his heart he’d burn the world for her in an instant if he had to.

He gently placed Tav’s head onto the floor before standing up and stretching his legs and back. He then bent over and scooped up Tav in his arms. She stirred slightly but nuzzled herself into Enver’s chest, falling quickly back to sleep. Enver walked her over to the bed and tucked her in under the sheets. Afterward he grabbed a scroll to put out all of the floating candles above and then pulled to crawl under the bedding to settle behind Tav, wrapping his arms back around her. Enver fell asleep with thoughts of what was to come and a smile on his lips.

#gorsimp #enver gortash #gortash x tav #tavtash #bg3 smut

[llliiinnnaaa]

Reprisal | Chapter Twenty-One

coriolanus snow x gaul oc

Summary: Ten years after the Tenth Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow is under Dr. Volumnia Gaul’s wing as a Gamemaker alongside her niece. Unbeknownst to either of them, they’re both being prepared for a much greater task.

Warning: This story will contain explicit violence against adults and children alike (I mean, it’s Dr. Gaul AND Snow) as well as explicit language, and sexual situations.

***This fic is in no way, shape, or form, me endorsing or co-signing the horrific shit Snow does, nor am I trying to romanticize it. Also, apathy and will be the main driving force of any remnants of a relationship between my OC and Snow’s character. So if you’re interested in something very romantic and fluffy…it’s not gonna be this.

Thank you for reading, I hope you like it!

     The days following their arrival in District Nine followed as planned.

Tawny retained her grip on her slipping mental wellbeing, facing the smiling, welcoming faces of the Mayor of District Three and District Six with the same stiff lip that only relaxed to offer a facade of cordialness in the disguise of a smile and gentle tone.

No more tirades of her brothers, nor threat of additional reparations, she merely acts as an accessory to the Capitol, allowing Snow to speak all on his own—which he silently thanked her for with a glint of his eyes in her direction at both stops. 

Other than that, he hasn’t paid her any attention, nor has she paid any to him.

They don’t dine together, nor do they socialize with Mr. Marius in the main living quarters together. If Tawny enters the same space he’s in, she either immediately turns on her heel and flees, or he stands and dismisses himself. 

His reasoning is merely keeping peace and proper conduct, acting accordingly as future President who cannot allow himself to be led by his prick.

Her reasoning is her bruised ego, feeling the harsh sting of his rejection.

For months it was him who chased her, fiending for the thrilling high she brought with her like a morphling addict chasing the next hit of paradise. 

She had taken being wanted for granted, feeling hideous and undesirable the moment he turned her away, not looking at her since, unless on their Capitol dealings, and those looks are not personal the way she knew they could be.

Each night she calls home to speak to her mother and father, every other night she gets in contact with Pias, deliberately lewd in her words to provoke Snow—whilst also imagining whoever has the liberty of listening to the possibly recorded phone call turning bright with blush. 

It always ends with her gushing about her love for her fiance—laying the lie on thick to disguise her disgust for the man that had taken part in killing her daughter—her brown eyes glaring at her former lover as he speaks quietly to his own significant other. 

She knows when he’s overheard her phone calls, however, when he slams the phone on the hook and ignores her. 

Little does she know he loses himself to his own hand in the privacy of the shower each night, imagining her wrapped around him tightly, sobbing his name as he punishes her for her ridiculous behavior that seemingly no one else seems to take notice of except him . 

Because she only means for him to notice .

By the time they arrive in District Twelve, he’s seering at the sight of her. 

Adorned in black—a distinct shade of it to express mourning, to be exact—she steps into the living quarters, black gloves adorning her hands, as a smug expression on her face as he eyes Coriolanus up and down. 

“Are we attending a funeral?” He snips at her, Philo halting the sip of his tea as he watches the two of them. 

“I’m wearing it in memory of your father.” She says, casually, wanting to add, Since you’ve forbade us from verbally mentioning those we love that the rebels have robbed from us, but deciding not to stoke him to anger. 

“Go change.” He says flatly. “Something more uplifting.”

Glancing down at her outfit, severing her tongue between her teeth, she finally nods.

“Okay.” It’s nearly strangled leaving her throat in a polite tone, turning on her heels to go back to her room to change. 

Instead, she shuts the door behind her and sits on the bed, taking in a few deep breath to compose herself.

She wants to go home, and the days are stretching by so slowly that she can’t fathom being trapped with him for another handful of them. 

When their escorts of Peacekeepers come to collect them, Snow takes it upon himself to retrieve Tawny, hastily making his way to her door, only for her to open it before his knuckles can make contact with the wood. 

It’s a red dress she wears now, with matching heels, the very color of the flag of Panem and the simplicity of it pleases him. 

No muss, no fuss, no tantrums or petty statements to be made in her attire this time. 

It’s just red. 

“They’re here.” He says lowly, eyes still holding hers, deliberately working not to roam over her. 

Again, she nods, refusing to speak anymore to him.

     Commander Hoff is standing with a proud smile at the sight of Coriolanus Snow as he exits the train car—the nip in the air stronger than when they first arrived—Dr. Gaul and Mr. Marius trailing behind him.

Snow’s cold and stoic demeanor shifts when he sees the man, a genuine smile coming to his handsome face in a way Tawny hadn’t seen in ages from him.

“Mr. Snow.” Hoff greets him cordially, extending his hand to grasp ahold of his former Private. 

“Commander,” Snow replies lightly, stepping aside to introduce Tawny and Philo. “This is Mr. Philo Marius, my exemplary apprentice through the last year as a Gamemaker, and this,” Tawny tenses when his hand holds at her back to usher her toward Commander Hoff once the man is done shaking Philo’s hand, “Is Dr. Tawny Gaul — one of our most prestigious Gamescientists in the Capitol.” 

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Dr. Gaul. Truly a pleasure.” He nods to the woman and she forces a smile, replying swiftly, “Thank you. You as well.” 

They’re escorted in a town car, snow that’s muddied from coal pollution littering the ground, making Tawny wish she had grabbed a thicker coat.

The car is imported from the Captiol surely, as District Twelve had never had anything so fine at its convenience, and upon squeezing in together, Tawny and Snow find themselves too close for comfort.

They smush into the backseat, his long, lanky right leg pressed smug against her left.

Shoulder to shoulder, tight and uncomfortable. 

It’s as miserable for her as it is for him, her smooth skin exposed little by little the longer they sit as her skirt rides up her thighs more and more with each bump in the road or sharp turn.

And upon a sudden, abrupt stop caused by a railroad crossing, his hand leaves his own lap and grabs at her knee.

Upon the feel of his fingers gripped so tightly into her flesh, a shock rolls through her and settles between her legs, a familiar, dull throb growing more and more intense as his hand lingers on her.

No one has noticed, Hoff and another Peacekeepr up front while Philo sits on the left side of Snow, looking out the window with a curious gaze of the foreign environment. 

Her breath grows heavier though she keeps it quiet, her chest rising and falling as he keeps his expression neutral.

Slowly, his fingers creep higher, causing to squirm just slightly, wishing she could wantonly splay her legs open and let him touch her however he pleases. 

Only they stop on the inside of her thigh, barely at the middle of it, a near whimper leaving her when he pulls his hand away, a stroke of his ego occurring when she almost grabs his wrist to keep him. 

But then she comes to her senses, forcing herself to regain her composure, and by the time they arrive at the Mayor’s home, she’s subtly gasping for fresh air as she practically stumbles from the car. 

“Just a warning, Snow,” Hoff says, shutting the car door behind him. “Mayor Lipp hasn’t quite been the same since his wife’s death. She couldn’t handle the grief of losing their daughter and . . .” He trails off, unable to speak of her suicide. 

A tug at Tawny’s heart somewhat surprises her.

“If he speaks out of turn, or appears inebriated , he may very well be.” Hoff finishes.

“Understood.” Snow nods. 

The four of them step onto the porch of the large house made of white wood, Hoff knocking at the door.

While they wait, Snow glances at Philo and Tawny, the latter looking at him like a wounded puppy. 

He nearly smirks, hoping to have gotten back at her for the times she has caused him to screw himself for relief. 

The upturn of his lips fades, however, with the image of her desperately plunging her fingers in and out of her soaked cunt, tears rolling down her cheeks as she tries to deliver relief to herself.

Gritting his teeth together, he corrects the image in his mind, instead replacing it with that of his hand grabbing a fistful of her hair, her beautiful face in the mattress to muffle her screams as he bends her over the bed, buried to the hilt in her, forcing her to come until it’s painful, until she’s made a mess of the entire room, her own spent running down both of their legs.

They’d shower, rest briefly and do it all over again, no matter how sore they’d be, or fucked out she would get, crying but pleading for him not to stop, repeating how good he felt, how she was his.

The already uncomfortable tightness of his trousers since grabbing her in the car, turns painful.

For a split second, the blink of her eyes, she catches him looking at her.

The way he had during their affair, the lust, the want, the longing.

It’s gone as soon he reaches out himself and knocks on the door once more to hurry this ordeal along. 

The door opens, leaving only the screen door between Mayor Lipp and the group of Capitol visitors. 

He’s not even dressed, not truly. 

A white tank top and his briefs. 

Tawny averts her eyes from the sight of the man’s indecency. 

“Mayor Lipp,” Hoff starts, cordially. “This is Coriolanus Snow, Dr. Tawny Gaul, and Mr. Philo Marius from the Capitol…they’re here on behalf of the unsettled nature of District Twelve before the elections.” He explains to the hazy Mayor, his drunken eyes lingering on Tawny before falling to Coriolanus. 

“ You .” He points, lips nearly slurring the single word. “I know you.”

Anxiousness roots itself in his gut, flashes of the past he had worked endlessly to forget, to bury, seem to be dug up before his very eyes. 

At least he assumes. 

“You were a Peacekeeper when those rebels killed my little girl.” 

Tawny eyes shift to Coriolanus as he somewhat feels a bit more relief. 

“Yes.” He confirms, looking to Hoff. 

Awkward silence looms in the air before the Mayor clears his throat and looks behind himself, stepping back to invite his company inside. 

“Please, come in, just…excuse the mess.”

Empty whiskey bottles litter the home, stray laundry scattered here and there, to the extent that Tawny has to toss aside a shirt to sit on the sofa, blue eyes staring as she does so, looking up at him before he settles beside her. 

“Would any of you like a drink?” Lipp inquires, holding another bottle that’s partly empty already. 

“No, thank you.” Snow replies politely despite his distaste for the Mayor drinking so early in the morning. 

No wonder so much has been able to happen right under their noses—the mayor is too drunk to pay attention to much of anything. 

“Why are you here, again?” He asks, next, sitting with his bottle, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“Rebel activity has increased here in Twelve. With an election around the corner, the Capitol just wanted to establish a mutual understanding .” Coriolanus answers, raising his brows. 

Again, Lipp glares at Tawny, then Philo, before settling on Coriolanus.

“The Capitol , or you , Mr. Snow?” He presses, wanting to muck through the formalities. “Being as you are the Capitol at this point.”

The future President is sitting on his couch and threatening him to ensure District Twelve doesn’t rebel. 

“I’m only a candidate, Mayor Lipp.” It’s humble coming from him of all people, the faux humility to his tone nearly causing Tawny to scoff. 

“Your fiancé doesn’t mind you showboating with his competition, Dr. Gaul?” Lipp shifts the subject, focusing on her. 

Tawny can hear the skepticism in his voice. 

“He’s endorsing him, Mayor Lipp.” She retorts sweetly, as if it’s all handled and thought through.

As if Pias won’t be infuriated with the decision to plant Snow at the head of Panem. 

“Is he, now?” He asks, next, glancing around. “Where is he?”

“He had matters to tend to in the Capitol and was unable to join us.” It’s not a lie, not completely, at least. 

“Hmm.” He leans back, drinking his poison straight from its dusty, blurry brown bottle as the fire in the hearth dwindles somewhat. “I hate to be a waste of your time, truly, but I assure you there is no matter of rebellion in Twelve. Not after my daughter.” He assures them blankly. 

Tawny bites at the inside of her cheek, relating too closely to the way Mayor Lipp carries himself.

If she hadn’t had a reputation to uphold, she too would have fallen into a bottle and never climbed out of it after she lost Tullia. 

It’s now that she somewhat spits in the face of Snow’s order of not getting personal as she stands and moves around the wooden coffee table to sit across from him, adding softly, “I understand, Mayor Lipp. Truly. It’s a horrible thing to lose a child to the hands of monsters.” 

Coriolanus bristles at her words, glaring at her.

Mayor Lipp keeps his face stoic, stern, strong, for a moment. 

Her empathy reels a twisted expression from him as his eyes squeeze shut, tears toppling forth.

Snow sighs out, rubbing his forehead briefly, trying to find how this will be explained:

Yes, the tour went wonderfully. Tawny had a heart-to-heart with the wealthiest alcoholic of District Twelve .

“The twisted part…” He trails off, having to let a few sobs out before collecting himself once more, the sight lodging a lump in her throat. “...We never truly found the gun…or the person responsible.”

Nausea rises at the back of Snow’s throat at the words, Hoff meeting his gaze with an expression of remorse—guilt, perhaps, for not being able to bring forth justice for Mayfair.

The look only confirms to Snow that his expression reads that of sympathy, as well. 

Not impending doom of being randomly found out ten years later. 

“Mr. Snow’s Presidency will prevent anything like you and I have suffered to happen, again. So many believe that the reason tragedies such as this occurred was due to too much leniency from our former Presidential cabinet.” It’s a soothing promise, Snow leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as if wanting to hear her brag about him closer up. 

Philo sits silently as Tawny goes on, shamelessly stroking Snow’s ego as if it’s a form of foreplay they’re all bearing witness to. 

How protective he is, how vigilant , how she doesn’t fear having more children in the future because she knows they’ll be safe in a Panem guided by Coriolanus Snow …that their daughters’ deaths won’t be in vain because every moment Coriolanus will spend as President will be dedicated to honoring them, keeping their memory alive in every executive decision made.

Hoff nods with each word, fully in agreement as Coriolanus had been his star pupil, his most diligent and thorough. 

She sells him, peddles him, as convincingly as a high-dollar Capitol whore peddles high-dollar cunt. 

Once their visit has come to a close, Mayor Lipp has his bottle set aside, shaking Coriolanus’ hand, thanking him for taking the time to visit—clearly not understanding that this was all mandatory—and he hugs Tawny.

It’s excused due to his liquor-fueled daze, but the ride back to the train is even heavier than it was on the way. 

Snow’s floating from how perfectly Tawny spoke of him.

Floating so effortlessly, in fact, that he completely ignores the opportunity given to call home, deciding to blame it on the snow interrupting phone lines—should Livia ask tomorrow night—stepping directly onto the train, following closely behind Tawny.

She sheds her coat, stretching and yawning simultaneously whilst kicking her heels off. 

“I am freezing.” She declares to Snow and Philo. “I’m about to get a hot shower and then I’ll be back for dinner.” 

“I’m so exhausted I might just do the same and go to bed.” Philo retorts, walking with her until he reaches his own bedroom. 

Coriolanus needed something to do to keep himself from barging in to shower with her, ultimately deciding to go to his own bathroom and scrub himself of the pollution and snow. 

Once he’s finished, he eats what he can, gathering a roll to offer her for his behavior earlier in the morning—his behavior the last few days, actually.

Tawny’s plucking the pins from her hair she had used to keep it from getting wet when a knock at her door pulls her attention away from herself, tying her robe around her before sliding the door open. 

Coriolanus extends the napkin-wrapped roll to her, only for her to raise her brows and glance from it to him. 

Knowing it’s more-so a front, an excuse to come see her, she accepts it and steps aside, not a word between the two being spoken as he reaches around her and slides the door shut, locking it. 

She sets the roll aside, once more reaching her hand up to pull another pin from her head, only to find it’s stuck in her hair. 

Wincing, she pauses, trying to configure how to pull it loose without breaking any strands. 

“Allow me.” He offers, stepping behind her before she can argue, gently untangling the raven hair from the silver, doing so with each one left until her hair is free. 

“Thank you.” She whispers, her voice catching in her throat from holding her breath throughout the process of him touching her so gently, carefully. 

“I suppose I should be thanking you, too.” He speaks lowly, his breath fanning her neck as he moves her hair to one shoulder, causing her brown eyes to flutter close, the hitch in her breath bringing a smirk to his lips as his hands reach around her waist to pluck the belt of her robe loose. “Speaking so highly of me.” He continues, fingertips running across her skin to catch on the silky fabric at her shoulders. 

It pools at their feet, his palms smoothing down her arms, his lips pressing to her shoulder. 

His cock engorges when she grinds her ass into his crotch, her head resting on his shoulder as she assures him, “I meant every word of it,” while his hands grab at her breasts, fingers rolling over her nipples teasingly, causing her mouth to fall open.

“You want me to be President?” He knows her answer, the mere power in the possibility has her legs squeezing together to aid some form of friction, his right hand sparking at her skin as it descends between her legs, circling her slick clit, her hand grabbing his wrist as she fervently nods, whining out a pathetic, “Yes,” before biting into her lip. 

“Aren’t you sweet .” He grins as he holds back his own groan as he looks down at the outline of his cock against the plump curve of her ass. 

He steps back from her just enough to get his hand between them, freeing his length to run it along her wet folds, the thick tip of it having her reaching between her legs to try to angle it into her, the pinch of it pushing a hiss from her as he grins.

It’s a cute attempt, angling herself once more, Coriolanus’ chest rising and falling as he grabs her hips, watching her try to stuff him into herself. After the third time of discomfort despite her throbbing, slickend cunt, he chuckles, grabbing a fistful of her hair to pull her back against him.

“You can’t take it, yet.” He speaks it in a taunt, as if it’s a reminder she’s forgotten—as if the months spent apart has rid her of the details of their time spent together. 

His tongue and teeth leave a sweltering path in its wake on her neck, her hand reaching behind her to wrap around him, his length slippery from her attempts, the action stalling his own movements as she once more rubs her thighs together and pleads in a sultry tone, “Make me take it.” 

His teeth scrape against hers as his grip in her hair only tightens, Tawny turning to face him, wrapping around him the moment he grasps at her, her legs snaking around him, her arms capturing his shoulders, her greedy mouth assaulting his own.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x oc #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x gaul oc #young!coriolanus snow

[zablife]

Off Limits

Jack Nelson x OC Vera (Alfie’s wife)

Summary: Alfie Solomons has come to Boston and is giving the other crime families competition in the drug trade. What happens when Alfie’s alluring new wife accompanies him to a meeting with the legendary Jack Nelson?

Author’s Note: Takes place in S6 in an AU where Alfie marries an opera singer and does business in Boston. Inspiration for this fic comes from two lovely anons-one who requested Jack falling in love with Alfie’s wife and one who requested for Jack to chase an unobtainable woman. I hope you enjoy my take on these ideas!

The time had come for a meeting between the warring families in Boston, every one of them bent on destroying the other to gain more territory for their narcotics bootlegging. Sat at the table were every family head, including Jack Nelson who was there representing the interests of South Boston. Until recently the Irish had been most powerful, but the tide was turning in favor of the Jews thanks to a newcomer, Alfie Solomons. He had taken over for his uncle Charles Solomons in East Boston with the help of a Birmingham gang leader by the name of Thomas Shelby. The brash cockney now supplied the purest opium clients had ever seen, dealing a crushing blow to the Americans.

In preparation for today, Jack had made an itinerary and was going over his notes when an intoxicating scent of jasmine filled the air. Suddenly a beautiful woman sashayed past him, clutching a fur stole around her shoulders. He would know her anywhere, she was the famous opera singer Vera Doyle. Puzzled by her presence, Jack studied her carefully. She took a seat at the table, unbothered by his stare. He stood and walked toward her, reaching for her hand politely. “Miss Doyle, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Jack asked in a smooth, self-assured voice.

Before she could answer Alfie’s voice boomed forth, “Right, the pleasure of my wife’s company is not for you, mate. She’s off limits. We’re here to sort family business so if you must address my wife, you can call her Mrs. Solomons.”

Jack cocked his head at Vera. ”Wait a second, you’re married to a Jew? I thought you were Irish,” he said deliberately trying to provoke Alfie. He knew it was best to keep his enemies off balance and this was clearly the way to do it. Alfie bristled at his words. He clenched his fists spoiling for a fight, but Vera placed a hand on Alfie’s chest to calm him before turning to Jack and saying, “Yes, we’re both Jewish actually. Doyle is my stage name. Is there anything else you’d like to say on the subject?” She pursed her lips and gave him a stern look, daring him to continue. "No, ma'am," Jack said with a smile.

Jack returned to his seat unbothered and the meeting got underway. As everyone talked, he found himself unusually distracted. He observed the way Vera’s manicured hand sat primly atop Alfie’s on the polished table while her hand under the table rested suggestively on his upper thigh. She must have thought no one would notice the signs of her influence over him. But Jack took note of everything, especially how she whispered into Alfie’s ear frequently before he spoke. The couple seemed to be navigating the new business landscape as only a powerful couple could and that stirred a deep jealousy within Jack.

After the negotiations devolved into shouting, another family head spoke up to break the tension. He suggested they table the discussion until another time and everyone seemed to agree except for Vera who had one last thing to say. “You can try to prolong this if you’d like gentlemen, but the Solomons family will be running Boston by the new year.” That began another round of shouting which Jack ended with a simple statement, “Alright, Mrs. Solomons, if it’s war you want, then be my guest.”

The group dispersed quickly, each family filing out in hushed whispers. Alfie turned to leave as well, walking with Mr. Spinietta. Alfie was oblivious to Vera as he engaged in a heated discussion over his wife's threats. Vera sauntered after him, but not before Jack instinctively grabbed her forearm from his seated position, eager for the opportunity to talk to her again. Vera’s eyes flashed with surprise before Jack let her go, leaning back in his chair and asking confidently, “You know he’ll never have the influence I do in this town. Does your man actually think he can come here and take what’s mine?”

Vera stood silent for a moment with a smirk forming on her lips before leaning over him to adjust his tie. He looked down at the low neckline of her dress, exposing the tops of her breasts. Jack gulped at the stimulating sight before him, bewitched by her body and her charm. She shook her head with a knowing look and chuckled. “Come now, Mr. Nelson. If it was you wanting something, would you ask permission first?”

She pulled away to place her hands on her hips and watched him drink her in. Then she carefully removed a card from her handbag and slid it across the table toward his outstretched hand. “I think I’m going to enjoy doing business with you, Jack,” she said with a wink before turning to leave him in an awe-filled stupor. He turned her card over in his hand thinking, Off limits my ass...What a minx.

-------------------------------------------------

Tag list: @retromafia, @violaobanion, @theshelbyslimited, @wandawiccan60, @peakyswritings, @lovemissyhoneybee, @kittycatcait219, @evita-shelby, @shelbydelrey, @tommydoesntpayforsuits, @severewobblerlightdragon, @peaky-cillian, @peakyrogers, @celticmelody, @theshelbyclan, @kpopgirlbtssvt

#Peaky blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Alfie Solomons fanfic #Alfie Solomons imagine #Jack Nelson fanfic #Jack Nelson imagine #Jack Nelson x OC #Alfie Solomons x OC

[quietly-sleeping]

Dp x yi City arc????

Danny drops into yi City, kinda confused but dealing with it, knows language already since dead ppl spoke it so he's fine on that front. Little confused about formalities but stumbles through, gets labeled the weird outsider from some secluded village

Rants at cw for a bit, cw essentially pats him on the head and cites experience with new culture/gaining a new understanding of how death is handled elsewhere

Finds out about cultivation the hard way, gets jumped by walking corpse, fights it like normal ghost, very confused when it doesn't act right. No core, no reaction to communication either verbal or nonverbal

Gets helped by xxc, who just came into town with xy and a-qing, xxc kills corpse and lectures Danny thoroughly about nighttime safety

Xy eventually runs across kid in town, tries fucking with him a bit, kid is very unimpressed, follows him back bc he smells like death, but like wrong death

Danny just sits down and doesn't fucking leave, just chills and helps with chores, xxc doesn't mind it, worried about a unsupervised kid just, out there, when yi City has its massive corpse problem.

Xy does not care. Wants the kid out actually, having a kid who can see makes things more difficult for him, but kid doesn't know a damn thing about cultivation or any cultivators, doesn't even know what sects are. Xy eventually gets used to Danny being around, is very concerned and intrigued when he spots Danny straight up taking to the dead at some point and the dead talk back

A-qing is dubious, what the fuck is this kid doing? Why does he look like that (gesturing to all of him) also does he not see the issues with xy? Xy blatantly threatens on a daily basis, just like a-qing but he is unbothered, in fact he does it back?? But more playful?? A-qing has had more migraines since Danny dropped in than ever before in her short life

And it is not the dehydration talking, Danny. She drinks water, just not when Danny's around.

Plus she's seen his eyes glow at night, multiple colors actually, and can't figure out how to convey this to daozhang without fessing up to being able to see

Everything kind of balances out over time, Danny settles with them better, makes a bed for himself, and sometimes vanishes for a few days before popping back up.

This really concerns xxc, who is almost certain Danny is a cultivator at this point, bc who let this child go on night hunts by himself with no older martial siblings around? He could try and send xy with Danny, but xy still doesn't know xxc knows that xy is a cultivator and not just some dude with talismans.

Also he doesn't quite trust the two to not cause more problems while solving whatever Danny is off chasing.

In the end they hover about each other until sl finds xxc

Danny was following xy around a lot that day, sometimes deliberately trying to get a friendly fight out of him when sl drops in.

Sl stares at Danny, just standing next to xy, not even reacting when sl name drops xy and calls him out as a murderer, even as xy tries to stab him while doing so.

Danny, who has gotten very used to xys violent tendencies and has mostly categorized him as a liminal of some sort with really bad instinct control, just shrugs

If they managed to provoke baby liminal xy to homicide, either they done fucked up or it was self defence.

How massacring an entire clan down to animals was self defence, Danny can't answer that, but he does know that the scent of death on xy has pretty much stayed the same since he met him. So Danny was mildly sure he hadn't committed any murders in a while, and what you do while in your adjustment phases as a liminal, Danny can't really hold it against him.

Sure he's upset xy is a mass murderer, but people change, a long sentence doing community service might help, like Dan, but xy was mostly mortal and didn't have that kind of time. Plus xxc had multiple long talks with all of them on the morals of the Justice system.

So Danny was pretty sure rehabilitation was on the table.

So sl finds himself being marched back to the coffin house alongside xy, with Danny dead set on getting xxc to handle this

#Probably not in character #Can't find it in myself to really care honestly #Love for someone more fluent with Danny as a character to handle this that'd be great #Dp #danny phantom #mdzs #crossover #Idea throw up #I havent actually seen dp so this is based on my limited understanding i got second hand

[stray-tickles]

Amorous

Read on AO3

Jon was… rarely playful. Oh, he had a devious streak which had gotten him into trouble from time to time, but it was buried deep these days. He was the head archivist after all, and had to maintain a certain decorum.

Never mind that said decorum was completely futile with his assistants, all of whom were now fully aware of how debilitatingly ticklish he was. Tim and Sasha had known for some time, and it only took Martin walking in at the wrong time for him to find out too.

Not that Jon minded their frequent attacks, per se. He’d rather die than admit it, but he enjoyed it. He liked the closeness, the laughing, the fun of it all. It was so rare in his life.

Thankfully, Tim and Sasha’s deviousness was such that he never needed to go to much effort to provoke them, if at all. They weren’t so cruel as to make him admit that he liked it, even though Jon was certain they must know. They let him get away with pretending not to want or enjoy it, for which Jon was immeasurably grateful.

He was also grateful for their frequent sneak attacks. It made it very easy to know when one of them was coming up behind him.

Tim was there. No doubt about it. He moved slightly more heavily than Sasha, and more deliberately than Martin. Jon reached for the tape recorder to at least put on a show of not knowing Tim was right there, ready to pounce.

Hmm…

Actually, why pretend when he could have a little fun himself? When he could win, if only for a moment?

Jon cleared his throat and clicked on the tape recorder. “Statement of Jonathan Sims.” He started, hearing Tim’s footsteps stop in what he assumed was confusion. “Regarding an amorous encounter with Tim’s mother the previous night. Statement given fifteenth of March, twenty-seventeen. Statement begins.”

The statement did not, in fact, begin. The only thing to follow Jon’s introduction was deafening silence, every second of which made him want to laugh. He turned his head to look behind him and had to bite down very hard on a smile. Tim was standing there, a few steps away, staring at him with wide, shocked eyes that seemed to have no thought behind them at all. As if Jon’s little prank had short-circuited his brain.

That thought got a little chuckle out of Jon, which in turn seemed to knock Tim out of his stupor. “Oh, you little shit.” He growled.

Jon rocketed out of his seat, already smiling nervously, knowing what was going to happen. “Tim, Tim- wait, TIM!” He darted out the door to the main archive with Tim hot on his heels, giggles bubbling up in his stomach.

Sasha looked up when she saw their chase across the archives. “That time of day again, huh?” She joked.

Tim all but growled. “Call an ambulance Sash, someone’s gonna need to resuscitate this smartass.”

If Jon didn’t know Tim as well as he did, he’d have missed the smile he was hiding behind that exaggerated scowl. “Tim, please, wait- it’s not what you think!” Oh damn. He’d been backed into a corner.

Tim shot forwards, seizing one of Jon’s wrists and making him break into nervous giggles. “Oh yeah?” He smirked. “Please, elaborate.”

Jon swallowed back his laughter, seeing Sasha’s fond sigh from behind Tim’s back. “Well, I’m asexual, you see, so we didn’t do any of that. I just took your mother out for a candlelit dinner and we kissed under the moonlight.”

Tim glared. Sasha howled with laughter, gripping the arms of her office chair to keep from sliding out of it. “Well now you’re in for it.” He said. “Statement of Tim Stoker, regarding the murder of Jonathan Sims.”

It didn’t take much effort for Tim to catch Jon’s other wrist in his hand, pulling both arms up over his head. Then, without preamble, his free hand latched onto Jon’s upper ribcage, fingers poking and wiggling and making Jon shriek.

He barely managed to stay standing for five seconds, his legs buckling under him, unable to keep him upright. To Jon’s surprise, Tim didn’t pin him to the ground. No, he pulled him closer, keeping his arms up above his head and his body pressed close to Tim’s in what could almost be a hug.

A hug, but for the arm wrapped around Jon’s torso, digging fingers into his ribs.

Jon cackled like mad, tugging weakly at his wrists and twisting this way and that in Tim’s grip, unable to do anything else. It was useless, he knew that and he’d dug his grave anyway. Tim’s fingers were long and clever, and he’d long known the spots that made Jon go crazy. “Nononono, ple- Tim please!”

“Got your manners back I see.” Tim teased, scratching mercilessly under his arm now and bringing tears of laughter to Jon’s eyes. “I hope you showed mum some of that.”

God, why was Tim so tall? He couldn’t even lean up to gain a little give and lower his arms, not even by an inch. And that hand kept scratching away at his armpit, laying waste to Jon’s nervous system. “Sorry!” He squeaked. “Sorry, I’m soRRY!”

Tim’s hand moved back to Jon’s ribs, one finger wiggling up and down like a worm and making him snort and flush. “Oh no, don’t be sorry for giving an older woman a lovely night. Where’d you go? Italian place? Spanish?”

Jon shook his head, unable to get a word out between snorting laughter.

“Hmm, let me check.” Fingers spidered and poked across Jon’s stomach through his shirt, dissolving him into giggles. He tried to double over, almost pulling his own feet off the ground to no avail. He was thoroughly stuck, and secretly very happy about it.

Tim grinned, not ceasing the playful torment of his friend. He loved playing like this, getting Jon to relax and let loose once in a while. “Not much here.” He chuckled, squeezing at Jon’s sparse tummy and earning a series of squeaks for his trouble. “Sushi?”

Jon’s glasses were lopsided, though at this point he was surprised that hadn’t fallen right off his face. Electricity was pulsing up his spine, lighting up his face in laughter, and it was so much, “Tickles!” He squealed, unable to think about anything else.

“Don’t think I’ve heard of that place.” Sasha mused from her desk, smiling widely.

“No, I think it’s out past Brixton, right?” Tim said, not letting up. “Caribbean restaurant?”

Jon wheezed in air. “Y-yehes, anything!” He hiccupped, not sure what they were really talking about at this point but knowing he couldn’t stand much more.

“Uh oh, we’re losing him.” Tim teased affectionately. “Got that ambulance Sash?”

She pushed herself to her feet. “Defibrillator’s right here.” She grinned, rubbing her hands together.

Jon kicked his feet weakly against the floor, knowing where they were going with this. “Ha- Sasha no, Sasha plehease, I can’t, I cahahan’t!”

Sasha paused just long enough to catch his eye, then cheerfully shouted, “Clear!” and tazed her fingers into the bottom of Jon’s ribcage.

Jon screamed, bucking violently in reaction to that awful vibrating tickle, cackling helplessly. He would almost believe he’d been shocked with a real defibrillator with how much energy it filled him with.

Then it stopped abruptly, leaving Jon to heave in breaths deeply and try to recover some of his faculties.

“Clear!”

Jon shrieked again, his legs collapsing completely and leaving his feet hanging off the floor, his arms still in Tim’s grip as he squirmed and laughed. He managed only a few seconds before hiccupping out, “Naha- stop! Stopstopstopstopstop ehehehe-”

Sasha pulled her hands away before he’d finished pleading, ruffling his hair affectionately. “He lives!” She joked. “Good to have you back with us.”

Jon continued to giggle, sinking against Tim to remain upright when his arms were freed. “Fired, both of you.”

They both laughed. “Oh sure,” Tim joked, keeping one arm wrapped around Jon in a hug. “Fire me, I’ll just go to HR and tell them what you said about my mother.”

Sasha snorted into her hand. “That was really funny.”

Tim gasped. “You wanna be next?” He threatened, then immediately backed away when Sasha took a step towards him in response. “Fair point.”

Jon smiled into Tim’s shoulder. He felt… fuzzy. Fuzzy and happy and… loved.

Sasha retreated back to her desk, still grinning at him. Jon was dimly aware that he probably looked a mess, glasses barely on his face, red cheeks, mussed hair. He could live with that, for now.

Tim chuckled and half carried him back to his office. It was almost unfair how cute Jon looked sometimes. “Sit down before you fall.” He teased warmly.

Jon huffed a laugh as Tim let him down into his seat. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” Tim grinned. He hesitated at the doorway. “One of these days, you’ll figure out that you can just ask, instead of trying to provoke us all the time.”

Jon felt his cheeks heat up and crossed his arms around his waist. He bit his lip and looked down at his desk. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Get back to work, boss.”

Taking the tape recorder, Jon chuckled and clicked it on. “We met at a lovely tapas bar by the Thames…”

Tim barked a laugh. “You son of a bitch.” He muttered, closing the door behind him.

Jon turned off the tape recorder and grinned to himself.

He really liked this feeling.

#tickle fic #tma tickles #ticklish!jon #my fic #s1 archive crew #Jonathan Sims #tickles

[auntieclimactic]

I've been having a lot of thoughts about bratty!Ted vs. angry!Ted (for reasons, okay)

Such thoughts have led to me flooding the DMs of two kind souls, who have been very encouraging and charitable about this current obsession o' mine. But I do feel it's essential to widen the circle of people you bombard with your opinions SO HERE WE ARE. Keep reading to suffer along with me. 

When it comes to Ted being bratty in the show, we see him provoking or deliberately annoying people as a way to disarm or distract people from actual issues. We can kinda assume this was something he learned from his mother based on what he tells Roy about how she approaches bad news.

"It's funny, 'cause whenever my mom has something tough to talk about with me, she'll, um... you know, she'll start it off saying something about, I don't know, something weird, something overtly nice" (Ted Lasso 01x09).

What Ted says here implies two things: his mom isn't comfortable with negative emotion and she uses humor/kindness as a psychological deflection. This is a common coping mechanism in people who are bad at confrontation (hi, it's me) aka using humor to avoid making people upset or sad when you have something upsetting or potentially challenging to say. There’s a threat there, but it’s safe. It’s not too aggressive.

So maybe, through his mom, Ted learned how to mask feelings like this as a defense mechanism to cope with pain. Like smiling in the mirror, humor is a way to hack sadness. And, because he's TED, he tries to leverage that strategy to help others, using humor to make others feel good, gain intimacy, or help buffer stress. We see this in the show when:

Ted jokes with Nate in episode one to put him at ease—"I love your hot dogs"—and gain intimacy.

When he frantically cracks jokes during that train wreck of a first press conference—"the fellow that bends it like himself" and "the fella with the Mickey Mouse hands"—to buffer stress.

Singing Kenny Rogers at Rebecca when she is clearly frustrated and stressed out—both in an attempt to gain intimacy and buffer her stress.

Chasing Beard down the pitch, trying to tell him the British owl joke after they fought about benching Roy. 

Joking awkwardly with Sassy in the morning after.

All his desperate attempts to banter with Sharon in early season two, both in an attempt to gain intimacy with her and deflect from his anxiety.

When taken too far, these moments of humor become brattiness. I think Ted’s brattiness is deliberate. Either out of desperation to deflect or curiosity on how the other party will respond. To me, there’s something so enthralling about a character who’s willing to annoy, but stops just short of confrontation.

Which leads us to angry!Ted. 

@nandalorian, who is wiser and smarter than me in many ways, reminded me of how the show implied that Ted acted out and pushed boundaries after his father's suicide. We have the fact that he didn't go to his dad's funeral and that fun little story about ending up in jail after prom to support this. 

Young Ted was probably spoiling for a fight. Looking for an outlet for his anger, grief, and betrayal. You can only imagine the stress that would place on a newly widowed parent, especially one who is hinted at intensely disliking confrontation and vocalizing negativity. Someone in Ted's life obviously called him to heel. Someone who sent Ted a very strong message that anger hurts others and expressing it is toxic. Wouldn't it be better to stuff that anger down, so he can step up and support his mom? Maybe someone in his life like... a coach? (That would certainly go a long way towards explaining his investment in Jamie.)

So now we have a Ted who internalizes the message that there's no place for anger in life and has an unhealthy sense of responsibility for other people's happiness.  So healthy. Much psychological well-being. 

We get flashes of angry!Ted on the show, and boy howdy are they fascinating. Offhand, I can think of the following moments:

Ted yelling at Jamie when he lies about being hurt to get out of practicing—"Practice! You know you're supposed to be out there. You know you're supposed to lead by example. You're just shoving that all aside"—and wow isn't that outburst TELLING. 

The darts scene with Rupert, which is one of the few scenes we see a genuine flash of rage in Ted's eyes and the one example of threatening physical retaliation ("Hey now. Better manners when I'm holding darts).

The scene where he storms into Rebecca's office after Jamie was recalled to Man City. This is the first time Ted actually verbalizes his anger: "I'm trying to be cool about this, but I am just seeing red everywhere."

The attempted therapy scene with Sharon, which is the only time we have Ted swearing: "I think it's bullshit. You don't know me. We don't have history. And yet you just expect me to spill my guts about all the gory details of my life." This scene is so interesting and potentially an example of a younger Ted's combativeness. 

After every single one of these moments, Ted does one of two things:

Immediately removes himself from the situation by leaving the room.

Defuses the situation and undermines his own expression of anger with a joke.

Now removing yourself from a situation that is making you angry isn't necessarily a bad strategy. Except when you're obviously terrified of having negative emotions or shutting down further conversation. Avoiding or refusing to examine your anger, both by physically leaving or falling back on humor, is not a great coping strategy, Ted. Anger is a valid emotion and you are allowed to express it in healthy ways. 

I think, in some ways, there's still a part of Ted that's spoiling for a fight. Consider the darts scene. As the brilliant @kiraziwrites pointed out, this scene is a masterclass in maintaining plausible deniability while absolutely picking a fight. But Ted doesn't think anger or frustration can be expressed healthily. He avoids saying no and avoids confrontation because making a fuss hurts people. It's bad. Maybe it even makes people leave you because they're going to realize you're not worth the effort. So instead of doing all that or doing anything to confront that internalized anger, he drinks. 

For Ted to learn how to healthily express that anger and resentment, someone's going to have to pry through his brattiness, his avoidance, and his jokey jokes. We saw Sharon do this when she ignored him or rebuffed his provocation with cool professionalism and then again when she spoke to him over the phone after her bike accident. Was that the first time Ted ever heard someone be that calmly emotionally vulnerable? Like a negative feeling was no big deal, just something two people could easily chat about?

Sharon led by example, creating a safe space where Ted could confess to being anything but sunshine and rainbows 24/7. Frankly, I think the only reason Ted was able to stand outside Sharon’s flat to confront her ghosting or finally address Nate’s obvious rage was because of all the work Sharon did with him. Old Ted would’ve followed the instinct to joke his way out of it (like Higgin’s offered with the letter pun) or shove it down (like he told Beard he was planning on doing in the pub scene).

Sharon is very good at her job, and we all deserve to have such a therapist in our lives, is what I’m saying.

Now! Cue my tin foil hat time. 

Trent would be intensely intrigued by a Ted who's obviously upset and trying to shove it down. As we Trent/Ted shippers like to say: Trent Crimm wants to dissect Ted Lasso. Because Trent is curious about people. He likes to push and nudge and examine what makes them tick. And Ted loves provoking people, but how many times do we see him interact with someone willing to push back? Who doesn't just roll their eyes, sigh in exasperation, or laugh it off? I think Trent (outside of Sharon) is one of the few people who consistently examine Ted's responses more carefully (Rebecca and Beard push back as well, just not as consistently). 

Trent's an observant fellow. There's no way he's not going to clock Ted's inclination to challenge others, be bratty in times of stress, and the way he quashes his combative impulses before he can fully commit to a fight. As @nandalorian pointed out during one of my word vomits in their DMs, Trent LOVES a challenge. Otherwise he wouldn't be so drawn to the who, what, and why of Ted Lasso in the first place—to the point where he dramatically blew up his career to "look for something deeper" (he said, gazing meaningfully into Ted's eyes).  With that in mind, I could very much see Trent provoking Ted right back, trying to get to the core of that belligerence and giving Ted space to make a Big Damn Fuss because sometimes, in the right situation, making a fuss can be good for you. Especially in a space where you know you won't be rejected or abandoned after exposing this side of yourself. 

In conclusion, this show is a thrilling study of the ways people express (and don't express) negative emotions, and the third story in the Trent/Ted BDSM verse would be coming along swimmingly if I could stop yelling about it. 

#ted lasso meta #that dissolves into #trent crimm/ted lasso #thanks to nandalorian and kiraziwrites #who responses to my rants helped me develop a rational thought

[yehet-about-it]

Chase Me | Part 17 - Lock The Door Next Time

⇐ || ☆ Masterlist ☆ || ⇒

🎮👾 ~ The Boyz Social Media AU ~ 👾🎮

"Twitching" is a British term used to mean "the pursuit of a previously located rare bird." In North America it is more often called chasing...

Pairings: Changmin x Reader, Sunwoo x Reader

Warnings: 17+, language, some smut in later chapters, fuckboy!sunwoo 😉

Updates Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday & Sunday @ 9pm GMT/1pm PST

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*･ﾟ✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*･ﾟ✧･ﾟ

Word Count: 3.1k (I am SO sorry... although I'm kind of not bc I lowkey love this chapter) Warnings: Mature content, may involve maStUrBaTioN, a whole lot of embarrassment and Chanhee having the time of his goddamn life bc its not him in the awkward situation for once 🙃

You sighed, dropping your unreasonably heavy camera bag on the table as you walked into the living room, Chanhee in close pursuit looking equally as tired. You’d spent several long hours at a shoot for a new project you’d been hired to do and had come back to the boys’ apartment to do some editing before you called it quits for the day.

“Should we order food now?” You called out as Chanhee went to his room to unload his gear and fetch his macbook for editing. You knew you needed to work but you hadn’t eaten since the morning and you couldn’t stop the thoughts of takeout food swirling around in your head. “Mm, the Chinese?” Chanhee replied sitting down across the table. “Can you go and ask Changmin if he wants anything while I set this up? He’s probably in his room.”

You nodded happily, perking up at the prospect of food and left Chanhee to upload the photos from the day whilst you went off in search of Changmin. He wasn’t in their gaming room as you walked by so you continued down the corridor towards his room. As you neared his door you could hear a murmur, and coming to a stop outside the room you recognised your name being called by Changmin, only it was ever so quiet, barely audible through the wood of the door, so you figured maybe it was just him registering your presence. Assuming he’d realised you were there, you swung the door open not quite expecting the scene that was presented before you. Changmin was sat on his bed, propped up against the pillows with his lips parted, hair hanging low in front of his eyes, and scanning further down you saw that his sweatpants were bunched low on his hips as his hand gripped what appeared to be a very hard erection. You let out a shriek as you realised what you had stumbled upon, immediately slamming the door back shut and racing down the corridor before Changmin even had chance to react.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” You repeated it like a mantra, your heart pounding from the shock as you slid back into the living room and into your chair opposite New. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Chanhee asked in bewilderment looking at you as though you’d just committed the 7 deadly sins. “I should have knocked!” you squeaked burying your face in your palms in total, unfathomed embarrassment. You took a deep breath trying to calm yourself, but the image of Changmin’s hand wrapped snugly around his length, pleasuring himself as he uttered your name was well and truly burned into your brain.

“What? Why?” Chanhee asked, a puzzled expression forming from his features. “He- oh my word- he was- touchi- Ugh I can’t say it!” you whined. “He wasn’t…? Oh my god...” Eventually realising what had happened, a hysterical fit of laughter erupted from your best friends throat as you hid behind your hands, your cheeks most definitely flushed with the brightest pink. “Oh my god that idiot” Chanhee cackled, tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes from the sheer force of his laughter. You sank down in your chair a pained smile on your face as you couldn’t help but be affected by Chanhee’s reaction. “Chanhee what am I gonna do? I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again!” You wailed, the howling starting to dye down as Chanhee regained his composure. “Not my problem” Chanhee teased. “I’ll make it your problem” you replied stroppily, whacking him lightly on the arm in annoyance. “Ow!” Chanhee clutched his arm in feigned pain before proceeding to laugh at you once again. “It’s not funny Chanhee! This is so awkward!”

You had by now gotten over the initial shock of seeing one of your longest friends exposed like that, and now you were wondering how the hell you were gonna get over the awkwardness of the situation. But most of all, you were wondering why the hell he’d been moaning your name of all names and what that meant. Not that you were going to mention that to New. That would open a whole new can of worms and lead this conversation down a whole new road that you didn’t particularly want to explore, as well as give Chanhee even more ammunition for further teasing.

“That’s exactly why it IS funny.” Chanhee chided, whipping his phone out, presumably either to tease Changmin or get the Chinese menu up, or both. “Guess he won’t be joining us for the Chinese then?” You rolled your eyes at Chanhee’s teasing (though also legitimate) question. “Well it’s not like I stuck around to ask.” You crossed your arms as you gave Chanhee a warning glare. “Fine, I’ll ask him then.” He said, and your phone lit up on the table a moment later – of course he’d mentioned it in your group chat.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*･ﾟ✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*･ﾟ✧･ﾟ

Changmin had heard Chanhee’s cackling from his room at the other end of the apartment and had been mentally cursing for the duration, his face perhaps an even brighter shade of scarlet than yours. Of all of the awkward things to happen, the girl he liked and one of his best friends walking in while he was halfway to climax thinking about her had to be the most unfortunate. Firstly there was the problem of how he’d ever look you in the eye again, but secondly was the problem that remained below his waistline. You walking in hadn’t helped that of course. If it had been Chanhee or Kevin walking in, his stiffness would have gone in a split second, but despite the embarrassment of what had just happened, his length remained taut against his boxers which he’d quickly pulled back up in shock after your momentary appearance. He was no longer in the mood to continue, too worried about what you might be thinking, so he decided his only option was to go for a cold shower in the hope that that might fix it.

Before he had the chance to hop in however, his phone buzzed, showing a text from New. He groaned as he read the older boys words, knowing that he’d never live this down whining again when he realised the texts were sent not just to him but to your group chat. Thankfully Changmin had already eaten, although he wouldn’t mind a bit of Chinese, but given the current awkwardness he decided to pass up on the offer for food. He would probably be able to face you later but if he ordered food he’d have to sit with you to eat it, and the embarrassment was stilll far too fresh for that to be a comfortable affair, so he quickly typed out his reply and hopped in the shower to deal with the problem beneath his pants.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*･ﾟ✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*･ﾟ✧･ﾟ

An hour or so later you and Chanhee had just about finished your editing for the day and were tucking into your food, but you still hadn’t heard a peep out of Changmin. You sighed, finishing your bowl of jajangmyeon, feeling a little guilty that Changmin wasn’t sharing in the joys of your takeout food, all because you’d been dumb enough not to knock. “Hm maybe I should take him something” you sighed looking across all the cartons of food you’d ordered. Maybe he had actually eaten already, but there was so much, and you were sure he’d like some. “You’re not going to eat all that are you?” You asked Chanhee, nodding to the half full box of kkanpunggi in the middle. Chanhee just shrugged. “You sure you want to go back in there?” He sniggered as he asked the question, deliberately trying to provoke you. “No I am not, but I’m not going to avoid him forever just because I’ve seen his dick” you declared defiantly, making Chanhee almost spit out his boba as he doubled over in laughter. However awkward you were feeling, you’d have to face each other eventually. Normally you wouldn’t be so thrown off by something like this, for instance, you’d once accidentally walked in on Kevin going at it with someone one time when you’d stayed over at Sunwoo’s, but you’d just greeted it with an ew and laughed about it later. The only thing that had you feeling so utterly flustered was the sound of him uttering your name whilst he was clearly having some ‘time to himself’, but since you figured he wouldn’t necessarily be aware you’d heard that, you decided you’d be able to brush it off for now and pretend like everything was just peachy.

“Well just remember to knock this time” Chanhee quipped as you stood up, taking the box of spicy garlic fried chicken with you, picking up some of the spare chopsticks the restaurant had sent too. You grinned sarcastically at Chanhee, your eyes silently telling him he was an asshole, before disappearing off down the hall to Changmin’s room, praying that he’d be fully tucked into his pants this time. “Changmin? Can I come in?” you called as you knocked tentatively on his door. You heard some shuffling and low muttering before he answered with an uncertain “sure”.

Swinging the door open for the second time this evening you were relieved to see Changmin perched on his bed, fully clothed with an xbox controller in his lap and his headset to the side of him. You saw the overwatch character select screen flickering brightly on his tv screen too so you could only assume he was playing online with someone. “Oh you’re playing? Who’s on?” you asked quietly as you walked a couple of steps into the room, the carton of kkanpunggi still in hand. “Uh, just Eric.” Changmin replied, his eyes darting around the room as he struggled to make eye contact with you, for understandable reasons. “Hi Eric!” You sang loudly so he could hear you through the microphone. Though it was quiet, only coming from Changmin’s headset you heard a faint chuckle and Eric’s voice returning the greeting. “I brought you some kkanpunggi, I thought you might like some, it’s really good” you said, turning your attention back to the boy actually in the room.

Changmin’s expression softened watching as you stood there, proudly holding up the box of chicken and chopsticks. Even after what happened you were still thoughtful enough to bring him nice food so he wouldn’t miss out. What he wouldn’t give to be able to just pull you onto his lap and feed one other the delicious food, cleaning up any stray sauce with kisses. In his dreams he thought.

“Awh how come he gets chicken?” Eric whined through the headphones pulling Changmin out of his daydream. “KEVIN-HYUNG CAN WE GET CHICKEN?!” The sudden loudness of the younger boy through the headphones made you giggle, and you shared an amused look with Changmin. As bizarre as it was though, you were rather grateful for Eric’s random inputs which actually seemed to have the effect of relieving some of the tension in the room.

“Yah be quiet! I’m not even wearing my headphones and that hurt my ears!” Changmin called towards his headset shutting the younger boy up with an insincere sorry. “Oh it smells good, thank you y/n!” Changmin smiled sweetly at you as you placed the box down on the side table next to his bed. “That’s okay!” You replied, moving a few steps away again before looking nervously towards Changmin’s headset. You wanted to apologise for your earlier intrusion to get it out of the way, but you definitely didn’t want Eric to be witness to that, so you lowered your voice to a whisper. “Oh um, so I’ll be leaving in a bit, I just wanted to say sorry for earlier, I um- I should probably have knocked before I came in.”

Changmin could feel the heat rising in his cheeks being reminded of the earlier incident and although his hair mostly covered it, the tips of his ears were now definitely a blazing pink. “Oh-“ He was frankly a little stuck for words. He’d been sat in his room for the better part of an hour rehearsing what he might say to you in his head, but now you’d come in here to apologise, with chicken no less, he didn’t really have an answer for you. “Uh- it’s okay,” he mumbled. “Sorry you had to see that.”

Before it could get too awkward however, you snickered as you heard Eric and Kevin clearly having an argument about chicken faintly through the headphones still laying next to Changmin and you thanked your lucky stars that they evidently weren’t listening to you and Changmin’s awkward exchange. “Well I promise I’ll knock next time.” Changmin chuckled, running a hand sheepishly through his hair as you moved back toward the door. “I’ll let you get back to the game if those two ever stop arguing, I’ll see you later yeah?”

Changmin nodded and said goodbye as you slipped out to return to the dining table where New sat, a mischievous glint in his eye as he grinned at you. “On a scale of 1 to Eric talking to girls, just how awkward was he?” He asked, clearly trying to stifle his laughter. “Shut up New” you scoffed as you began picking up the empty food cartons to throw in the trash. This little shit was gonna milk this out for as long as possible and you weren’t here for it. “Well at least you didn’t scream and run out this time” he bantered, only to be met with a look of pure contempt from you as he passed you one of the empty food containers. “I am this close to pouring this black bean sauce all over that new balenciaga t-shirt Chanhee” you threatened holding out a carton that had the remains of some sauce wobbling about in the bottom. Chanhee jumped back covering his shirt with his hands, knowing that it wasn’t an empty threat from another time he’d pissed you off and you threw half a cup of peach tea all over him. It was a waste of the tea, but he’d had it coming. “That’s what I thought.” You proclaimed before disappearing into the kitchen to dispose of the containers.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*･ﾟ✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*･ﾟ✧･ﾟ

On your way home your head was filled with all kinds of thoughts about what you’d unintentionally just witnessed. All you really wanted to do was relax after a long day of work and carrying heavy equipment around, but all you could think about was your name on Changmin’s lips and what the hell it meant. Was it just an accident? Or if it wasn’t, did that confirm everything that Kevin had been telling you? Did Changmin really like you? There had been an undeniable vibe between you for the past few weeks, what with the increasing amount of time you spent together and the intimate moment on the roof last night, but until this weekend, you hadn’t thought about it much, your mind largely preoccuppied with your anger towards Sunwoo.

Your mind flipped through your memories with Changmin as you sat on the tube, trying to make sense of everything, and as you did so, it dawned on you. Kevin was right. Changmin liked you. Perhaps that was even what he had tried to tell you the previous night before Jeju had abruptly cut him off. You recalled all the times Changmin had sat with you and listened to you rant about Sunwoo, the way he’d been so angry the day after that one fateful party, and how he’d always been there waiting for you with a hug when you were down. It was a wonder you’d never realised it before. Perhaps Changmin’s warm presence in your life had just become so natural you never thought anything of it, but it was becoming increasingly clear that this wasn’t just two friends looking out for eachother. No, it was more than that.

You felt a heat in your chest as you processed this revelation, trying to make sense of your own feelings. You adored Changmin, but then who didn’t? The way his dimples made him look like the sweetest angel whenever he smiled, the way his eyes lit up whenever he discovered something really interesting, the way he couldn’t stop himself from giggling even at the most inappropriate moments. It was impossible not to like him. But then not everybody knew him like you. They didn’t have your relationship. Changmin had always been there for you, even though it was Chanhee you called your best friend and Sunwoo he called his. He always seemed to know exactly what you needed – when to give you space, when to give you hugs or when to make you laugh so hard you cried. Upon reflection, there was no one who came close to making you feel as happy and comfortable as Changmin did. You couldn’t think of a single occasion he hadn’t made you smile and you slowly began to realise… Was it possible… that you liked him too?

Then the thoughts of Sunwoo swarmed your mind. Did he know Changmin was into you? No of course not. They weren’t on the best of terms right now but you imagined it would be a hell of a lot worse if he did know his best friend was infatuated with his ex-girlfriend. If anything were to happen between you and Changmin, Sunwoo would be outraged for certain. But maybe that was what he deserved. He’d lost the right to an opinion on your life when he tried to get back with you by sleeping with you when you were drunk. Although perhaps falling for his best friend was a little far…

You leaned your head back against the glass of the subway train, sighing as your mind replayed the memory of Changmin’s breathless expression as his hand gripped his manhood. You kind of wished it would stop, not wanting the embarrassment of getting so worked up in public, but you just couldn’t tear your thoughts away from it. After your newfound revelation, you were getting dangerously close to imagining what had been happening before you walked in, and what sort of things he might have been thinking of doing – you nearly missed your stop in your dazed state but thankfully the announcement pulled you out of your thoughts and you rushed to the doors just in time to hop off before they closed and the train sped off into the distance, away from you and your insurmountable dilemma.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*･ﾟ✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*･ﾟ✧･ﾟ

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#the boyz au #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #the boyz fluff #the boyz smut #the boyz fake texts #the boyz social media au #the boyz smau #chase me #changmin x reader #changmin au #changmin drabbles #changmin imagines #changmin fluff #changmin social media au #changmin fake texts #changmin scenarios #sunwoo angst #sunwoo fake texts #chanhee fake texts #tbz q fluff #tbz q drabble #q drabbles #q fluff #the boyz q social media au #tbz q imagines #the boyz fanfics #changmin smut

[ticklytums]

what do you think amity and hunters t word dynamic is considering they’re both touch starved and awkward about it with parental issues

do you mean individually or once they become friends?

Cause once they become friends it’s like a pretty brother in law, sister in law relationship, and tbh Hunter always teases Luz and Amity to turn red and they’ll furiously chase him as he runs for the hills. But these girls are faster than they appear, and craftier, so ultimately it always ends with him pinned under them and screaming with laughter lmao

Amity in particular is very ruthless with big brother.

In regards to parental tickles from Eda these two just loooove it, Hunter especially. Eda has a move she calls ‘the tickle hold” that she uses on any of her kids. Where she’ll hold you in her lap, legs locked around yours so you can’t move, hand pulling their arms up over their head lmao (my mom used to do that to me and it felt fitting for Eda!)

Hunter gets that move the most because he’ll deliberately provoke her the most often

#toh tickles #ticklish!luz #ticklish!amity #ticklish!hunter #ticklish!goldenguard

[sokkastyles]

There are some people falsely claiming that you call others abuse apologists. What is abuse apologism?

Are there? I’ve said a couple of times that certain things are abuse apologism or reminiscent of abuse apologist rhetoric, which isn’t the same thing as saying a person is an abuse apologist. I’ve made it clear that it’s what someone is saying that I disagree with, but I’m also not going to tolerate harmful rhetoric.

Abuse apologism can be a lot of different things, from minimizing abuse to implying or stating that a victim deserved it. I’m trying to think of specific times where I said that, and I’ve talked a lot about the Azula vs Zuko stuff on tumblr because frankly, a lot of that IS abuse apologism. Stuff like trying to argue that things Azula did were really Zuko’s fault or painting him reacting to her when she’s being violent towards him as violence on his part, or the argument that I’ve also seen that it’s “no one’s fault” and they just have a mutual rivalry. I mean, ultimately, it’s Ozai’s fault, but Azula does share some of the blame there for the way she treats him and they don’t have a mutual rivalry, their relationship is very much unbalanced in her favor. Ozai created that dynamic, but Azula takes advantage of it.

I guess people may be referring to is my tag on this post about fans insisting that it’s wrong to see Zuko as nice or soft in any way because he’s “an asshole.” Which is just flat out wrong and OOC characterization, but the reason it’s abuse apologism is because a lot of the reasons people say that Zuko is an asshole are because of traits that he has because of being a victim of abuse. Of course, being abused does not excuse hurting others, but some of the things listed in that post aren’t Zuko being an asshole or a bad person, like hating being seen as weak. That’s a trait he has because of being a victim of violent abuse. Being in situations where he is vulnerable are difficult and even triggering for him, and that’s not something that should be treated as a mark against him. Especially since we’re shown that he very much craves that kind of human connection and actively works on getting better. Like, more than possibly any other character like this that I’ve ever seen in genre fiction. There are a lot of times when he puts himself in situations where he is incredibly vulnerable and you see that it’s hard for him to do, but he does it because he wants to be a good person and own up to his mistakes. Specifically I’ve talked about the scene where he tells the gaang that he’s lost his firebending. He’s angry and frustrated, but he’s not hurting anybody, and he’s taking responsibility for his own actions, and I’ve seen people call him an asshole for that scene specifically because he gets mad when Katara and Sokka are deliberately trying to provoke him. He’s entitled to be mad, he’s entitled to be upset. He’s NOT entitled to hurt other people but that’s a different thing entirely, and Zuko spends the ENTIRE SERIES learning the difference so it’s kind of ridiculous for people to still hold this against him.

Note that I am NOT saying that the gaang is abusive to Zuko for holding a grudge against him for chasing them across the world. I’m saying that you, the audience, have to be conscious of WHY he acts like that and criticizing him in this way for situations where he isn’t at fault is similar to abuse apologist rhetoric, and it’s dangerous to validate that kind of rhetoric. Another thing I get testy about, on a related note, is people calling Zuko “dramatic.” Yes, Zuko does get overly emotional. Yes, sometimes he overreacts in ways that are negative, and it’s not other people’s responsibility, especially if he is hurting others, to just put up with it. However, you do have to be conscious of the words you use to describe this, especially since this language is, sometimes word for word, the same language that his father and sister use to describe him and justify mistreating him. Azula literally calls Zuko dramatic when he’s worrying over the war meeting, and both she and their father regularly dismiss his feelings. Dramatic is a word with a negative connotation that is used to invalidate someone’s feelings, and in that particular situation, Zuko isn’t worried about the war meeting for no reason, he is literally being triggered. The last time he went into a war meeting uninvited, his father burned his face. It doesn’t take a genius to understand why he would agonize over making sure he was invited the next time.

Zuko’s arc is really complex because one of the things it does really well is portray how hard it is for him to take responsibility for his actions when he’s been repeatedly blamed for things that aren’t his fault. One of the things that is insidious about abuse is that it makes it really hard to separate out negative feelings, to separate out the things he should be feeling guilty for from the things that were never his fault, and Zuko at the beginning of the series is entitled and acting like an asshole but he’s also directing very intense guilt and self-blame at himself that he doesn’t deserve. That’s very common for kids, especially. He acts out in anger towards people who don’t deserve it and he doesn’t act angry towards the people he should be angry at. That’s also why I push back against people saying it’s wrong for Zuko to be angry, particularly when people point to instances of him feeling righteous anger towards the end of the series. Righteous anger is good and healthy. Wanting his girlfriend to be angry with him and feeling hurt that she isn’t is also good and healthy. Acting out of jealousy because she’s talking to another guy is NOT, but like, he’s sixteen and dealing with stuff that most adults would struggle with, and he STOPS that particular behavior as soon as he is called out on it. That’s good and healthy, too. Learning from your mistakes is healthy. Learning to deal with negative emotions in healthy ways is good. And Zuko deserves to be praised for that. Insisting that he should be constantly condemned for things that he actively worked to atone for feels an awful lot like abuse apologism because that’s exactly the way Ozai treated him, like nothing he could do would be good enough and he had to perform impossible tasks to keep his abuser happy.

#zuko #abuse cw

[galcake534]

I don’t hate Cully Barnaby, but I hate it when she is involved. There’s a 80% chance in every episode that she either knows the victim or the murderer and seems to have some informative stories about them while despite bringing Barnaby down when he cancels on her because someone’s literally just been murdered.

The information she gives her Dad only has a 45% chance of being genuine because it’s always from gossip.

I used to ship Cully and Troy together, but the more she’s in an episode and interacts with him (Scott or Jones.) or Barnaby, the more it’s Troy being head-over-heels and Cully being aware and still playing with his feelings while putting her Dad’s career down and making jibes about his dedication during an investigation which says a lot. Or she makes her disdain and hostility known not that anyone was eager for her opinion. And even though Barnaby looks unfazed, he probably hurts everytime, if Cully did that to Troy; chances are he’d get snarky in self-defence or he would genuinely feel guilt and try an unhealthy amount to keep her satisfied while despite doing nothing wrong, hoping to make it up to her because as much as Troy acts as though he doesn’t care for being the bad guy mostly when he speaks his mind at the wrong time, you can tell he cares deeply for Cully’s opinion more than he should. Or Barnaby probably would’ve listened to an annoyed Cully and sided with her while Joyce would name him a hypocrite.

In my opinion, Cully has made her dislike of Barnaby’s job as a DCI and she hates when he so much as brings it up or when he is involuntarily called away and guilt-tripping him about it, but she and Joyce despite their constant remarks feel entitled to drop information or ask and talk openly about an ongoing investigation case or making comments that they claim would’ve been helpful a few weeks before after they’ve just finished the case over breakfast while if he mentions it there’s the opposite outcome?

You can even tell by the books and scenes onscreen that Tom Barnaby is a devoted Father. He talks about reading to Cully as a child, he even stands with Troy or Jones and reminisces about Cully’s childhood. But Cully seems to complain more and makes it out that he was never around because of his job, Joyce likewise but she remains more neutral and understanding.

Some episodes you’d think would opt Cully into at least thinking about her privilege of having a loving Father. In “The Blood Will Out,” The episode where Hector Bridges is killed by his Stepdaughter and Barnaby uncovers that he was abusive towards her after the entire family cover it up while planning her escape, Barnaby was empathetic and sat in the interview room talking about all the things he himself would’ve done for Cully and that he also would’ve done the same thing while ensuring Fleur that he was going to do everything in his power to get her either an easy sentence or off the hook. You’d think Cully would give him a break because she ended up with one of the most decent Dad’s of Midsomer while a few she went to school with or those who are just living somewhere in Midsomer are spending life in prison because their parents were either abusive or something provoked them into it.

But my biggest pet peeve with Cully was how she didn’t even use her ability to prevent Barnaby from being a dick towards Scott when he arrived in season 7 despite in the little time he’s been there and how hostile his boss (her Dad.) is, he still ends up saving her life, he’s there for less than a week two people have been murdered, he’s had to learn his way around a place he’s never been because he was making sure his superior’s daughter was safe because Joyce was in full panic mode and Barnaby had to be at the scene of the crime.

And when Scott saw Cully was in trouble, he jumped into a lake and made sure she was okay and drove her home, again, he made sure she was alright.

She didn’t even mention it to her Dad who constantly belittled Scott in front of her, or complained about Scott’s attitude because he was late on his first day and isn’t used to the countryside because he has been switched from London after all- I’m sure if he found that Scott unlike Troy (The Previous “the Green Man” before discovering the murderer, he let Cully go with Daniel Webster despite him being present at his Mother’s murder.) saved Cully’s life while he knew he easily could have been taken down by the four people who could’ve (god knows what they were doing if they intended to drown her.) overpowered him or fought him and ambushed him.

Cully didn’t even say “Dad he saved my life and he didn’t have to do that.”

Or she could’ve at least mentioned it and let Scott’s actions speak louder to Barnaby instead of his first impression that Barnaby let linger far too long and held it against him unfairly.

It only seems when Cully receives some gratification out of being an informer that she’ll speak up and sure Scott wasn’t fazed by that nor did he hold it against her, he didn’t even expect her to tell anyone maybe even asked her to keep quiet about it, but considering he went on a complete goose chase for her, she should’ve used the ability that she definitely had to at least return a favour and at least make his new life slightly if at all (that he certainly isn’t used to.) easier and educate her Dad in Scott’s heroic action without being like Troy who probably would’ve expected a kiss on the cheek and a glass on wine (jokingly because he’s nervous of course, but he would’ve most likely made some unintentionally stupidly politically incorrect remark where he acts as though he expects acknowledgement and Cully takes it for his ego and she actually thinks he’s serious.) while reminding him that Scott IS from the Metropolitan Police in London and of course is going to be different in methods, but it just annoys me that she didn’t say anything, nor did she even so much as validate him; the toast at the end of the restaraunt “to absent friends.” felt like yet another jibe and comparison that DS Scott isn’t Troy, or Cully deliberately made that into guilt-tripping her Dad about missing Troy as in “he’s gone Dad, stop talking about him.”

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk, I’m expecting Cully will Midsomer Murder me after this.

#midsomer+murders #midsomer murders #cully barnaby #tom barnaby #joyce barnaby #gavin troy #dan scott #ben jones

[imaginedhaven]

Rules of Engagement: Chapter Six

Link to Masterpost

So when I said this “might even come out Thursday” yesterday I had completely mangled my understanding of days and weeks and didn’t realize that at the time “Thursday” and “tomorrow” were synonymous. Whoops! But it was as ready as it was going to get anyway soooo...

Enjoy!

~*~*~

After her birthday, Aelin’s days settled into something resembling a routine. In the mornings, she would train with Aedion and his men. Sometimes she would bring her knives, and more rarely she convinced Aedion to give her another lesson in hand-to-hand fighting. During these morning lessons she retained her human features and senses, in part out of fairness to the men and in part to make certain that if for some reason she was unable to shift, she would not be defenseless.

Her afternoons were filled with training in magic. Though it wasn’t strictly required in order to wield her power, Rowan required her to shift at the start of every lesson.

“Is it because you enjoy seeing someone else with pointy ears?” she had dared to ask once. “It can’t be because of the magic, there are plenty of humans without a drop of Fae blood who can use magic.”

Rowan had simply bared his fangs and growled in response, and she had decided that it wasn’t yet worth pressing her luck. Their newfound lack of animosity was tenuous enough already.

They hadn’t yet discussed any further what had been shared between them that night he had chased her down. Aelin wasn’t certain there was much point in bringing it up. For all of his posturing during their lessons, now that she knew she could see the glimmer of pain that would likely always reside in those pine-green eyes, but he never once acted as though he was in any way affected. If she asked directly, she was only likely to get a barked command to try to light yet another candle.

Perhaps it was a shield, the casual air of cool distance he kept about him so often. If it was, Aelin knew better than to press past it unnecessarily. If he wanted to talk, he would.

Instead, Rowan had crafted what seemed to be an increasingly infuriating series of challenges for her to overcome. Their first lesson after she had finally shifted he had set a candle in front of her on the ground and ordered her to light it. Instead, she had exploded it, and Rowan had needed to quickly smother a ring of fire two feet around where it had once been.

Several weeks and countless lectures about control later, it had become evident that bigger tasks came to her more easily. Of course, Rowan hadn’t allowed her to remain content with that. One candle became two, and two became four, and she would have to focus her entire will on only lighting one of them at a time.

She attempted to practice when she could outside of their lessons as well, but it was difficult to find a place within the palace to work. Most of the inhabitants got understandably nervous while she was playing with fire beside them. And so she settled for the slow improvement she was seeing under Rowan’s training.

She knew she had grown complacent when she felt a glimmer of surprise as she watched the Fae warrior striding toward where she was warming up for another session with Aedion. “I thought we weren’t meeting until after lunch,” she called in place of a greeting.

“You thought wrong,” he replied. “You focus better during your combat lessons. Today, we combine them.”

“You want me to throw fire at you,” Aelin deadpanned as she fought yet another wave of shock.

He grinned in response, chin lifting. Do you think I can’t handle a little heat, Aelin Fireheart? his posture screamed.

Her eyes narrowed. As long as you remember that you asked for it, she thought as she settled into a more open stance and shifted.

Before she could do anything else, a cool breeze blew around them both. A shield, she realized, and this time the surprise she felt was more pleasant.

He nodded, eyes gleaming with satisfaction at her recognition. Nothing will get through that, she read in his expression. Do your worst.

She glanced down at her hands, remembering the feel of a knife against her palm. If she could create fire, and if Rowan was so convinced that she could influence its shape as well, perhaps she could…

A dagger of flame appeared in her right hand, and she grinned as she inspected it more closely. It was light, almost impossibly so, but the fire did not burn her hand. She took a chance and flicked her wrist in a motion that would’ve sent an actual knife into the targets Aedion had set up, focusing all her will on recalling how the blade would fly and slice through the air.

The blade of fire collided with the hard air of Rowan’s shield and dissipated, just over the bullseye of the target.

The pleasure she felt at her success was matched by the brightness of his eyes as he looked on. Before she could say anything, though, he had crafted a blade of ice and was deftly twirling it around his fingers. “You handled a blade well enough,” he called. “But what is the first lesson of any competent combat instructor?”

Before she could open her mouth to reply the ice dagger was sailing through the air, directly toward her face.

Aelin growled, and her flames sprung up around her, clinging like a second skin. The blade Rowan had thrown spluttered and melted a scant fraction of an inch from slicing her cheek.

She glared up at him, only to see he was smirking. “Sloppy,” he said dismissively, “and wasteful. You’ll burn out too quickly if you don’t control your shielding. Small, precise, and controlled, like an actual shield you would wield.”

With a snarl she sent a blade of her fire at him, growling when he didn’t even lift a hand to alter its path just enough to miss him entirely. Please, he seemed to say. I’ve been doing this for centuries, and you started a few short weeks ago.

Two more knives of ice hurtled in her direction, and she thought several foul names for him as loudly as she could as she rushed to summon a shield. This one was smaller, but the edges were frayed and ragged, and she began to sweat from a combination of the effort of maintaining it and the heat. Better?

He lifted a single silver eyebrow in response. Keep trying. You might get somewhere eventually.

She threw the whole shield at him this time, taking advantage of his surprise to throw herself along the path the circle of fire had cleared. He blocked her first swing, but flames kissed the edges of her boots as she swept her foot across his legs and knocked him down for the first time since the day she’d first shifted for him.

Aelin pressed her advantage and pinned him down, fire twining around his wrists before she gasped at the feel of an icy breeze running along the back of her neck. With a smirk he threw her off of himself and froze manacles of ice around her forearms. She grinned back, melting the ice with nothing more than a thought, and launched herself back at him with a shout.

~*~*~

They sparred for another hour or so before Rowan called a halt to it, picking himself up off the ground and then extending a hand down for her. As she took it, the shield around them dissipated and the sound of a whistle pierced the air. A glance around revealed Aedion as the offender, having obviously gathered with several of his men to observe.

Aelin took one step toward him and gasped as her knees buckled. Before she could hit the ground, though, something solid and warm wrapped around her and pressed her into something even more solid and warm, and she dimly realized that Rowan must have caught her before she could fall.

The slight chill still lingering at his fingertips and the scent of snow on the air despite the relatively warm late spring day confirmed her suspicions, and she glanced up at him. “Thanks,” she muttered.

“You’re not used to expending that much energy over an extended period of time,” he said rather than directly responding. “And you didn’t have time to pull it out properly. Honestly, I shouldn’t have let it go on as long as I did. You’ll be fine once you eat something, but if we’d gone too much longer you would’ve risked burning out.”

“That sounds… painful,” she managed as he led her back toward the palace.

“If you extend yourself that far, it will kill you,” he replied. “It will tear you apart inside, and then kill you. If you had prepared in advance of this, tunneled into your power, you could have lasted longer. This is far from the limit of your power.”

“Careful, now,” she teased. “Did it hurt, to compliment me like that?”

His silence was answer enough for Aelin as he pulled her into the kitchen and sat her down, thrusting a bowl of broth into her hands with a wordless command to eat. Still, though, she tried one more time to provoke a reaction out of him. “It’s lucky no one else is around,” she said. “If someone were to see this, they might almost think that you care, and we can’t have that. It’ll ruin your image as a soulless Fae bastard.”

A single silver eyebrow quirked up, but Aelin cheered internally as she saw the faintest glimmer of a grin on his face. “I’ve told you before,” he replied, “I haven’t lost a student during their training yet. It’s a point of personal pride. Nothing to do with you, though I appreciate your concern for my image.”

“Speaking of your image, perhaps you can answer something for me,” Aelin said as she stirred the broth he’d given her. “Aedion’s the one who heard all the storied before you arrived, and there’s one I simply couldn’t believe. He says you once killed a man with a table.”

“Of all the stories your cousin could’ve shared, that’s the one you didn’t believe?” he asked incredulously.

“It just seems so unlikely. What did you do, squash him like a grape?”

His expression turned into a feral grin, one that reminded Aelin very suddenly that she was speaking with someone who had been honing warrior skills and instincts for centuries. “No,” he said, pine-green eyes gleaming. “I tore off the leg of the table and stabbed him with it.”

Aelin deliberately yawned into her broth. “Oh,” she said lightly. “That sounds much less exciting. I think I prefer the way Aedion told it.”

As Rowan sat beside her at last, his posture seemed to say the truth is rarely as glamorous as the stories that are told. Surely you know this.

Aelin shrugged and finally turned her attention fully to the broth, letting out a soft sound of surprise as she realized how hungry she truly was.

Though he didn’t overtly react, the warrior’s eyes were full of laughter. I told you you needed to eat.

Overprotective Fae male bastard, she thought with a scoff. It’s lucky for you I know you’re all like this.

If he responded to her play at nonchalance, or even considered responding, she missed it entirely as she devoured the broth before her. Finally, his voice filtered into her awareness. “You’ll need to eat more than you have been, as we begin working with your magic,” he was saying. “Although your magical ability isn’t decided by your physical strength, how you take care of yourself does have an impact. As you drain your magic, you’ll likely feel a drain on your energy as well.”

“Great. Just wonderful. So I can expect to have two overprotective males hovering instead of one,” she teased.

Rowan stiffened beside her, and she could tell she had unintentionally touched on a point of discomfort. “It is… instinctive, for many Fae—yes, mostly males, stop giving me that look—to be on edge around someone they perceive to be vulnerable to threat, real or imagined. There’s also a cultural element to it, at least where I come from. With you, it helps that you seem to know how to handle yourself even when your magic is drained. That said, it is very difficult—”

“No,” Aelin interrupted.

“No?” he repeated, obviously confused.

“If you’re about to apologize to me for something so deep in your nature, I’m not interested in hearing it,” she explained. “You certainly haven’t apologized for being a bastard, why should I ask or expect you to apologize for being a hovering buzzard?”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but she continued before he could. “You’re not human, Rowan. Anyone who expected you to act like one would be in for a surprise. That being said, I absolutely reserve the right to be annoyed if this keeps up, because it’s in my nature to take care of myself. But I won’t apologize for that, and you don’t apologize for your own nature. Am I clear?”

Pine-green eyes gleamed within his tan face, though with what she couldn’t say. She narrowed her own eyes at his continued silence until he managed a nod in reply. “Good,” she smiled. “Because things were going to be terribly awkward if we went on our trip with you still acting like this.”

She realized her mistake as soon as the light in those eyes turned into ice. “What trip?” he growled.

Aelin laughed, buying herself more time to gauge his reaction. “Trip? Did I say trip?”

He snarled. “Aelin. What. Trip?”

One of the most important lessons for warriors and assassins and rulers alike was knowing when one was outmatched. Sometimes a tactful retreat was the correct response, rather than pressing onward into certain defeat.

At least, that was what Aelin told herself as she fled up the stairs of the palace, followed closely by a Fae male snarling curses at her all the way.

~*~*~

Several days later the formal invitation from Adarlan arrived, and before Aelin knew it they were riding toward the border at a brisk pace. She surveyed the small clearing they’d found with a grin as the sun began to set. “Do you remember the last time we were allowed to go camping, cousin?” she asked.

“I’m surprised you remember it, as young as you were,” he grinned as he began to gather wood for a fire.

“Please, you’re only five years older than me.”

“That matters a lot more when one of you is five,” he retorted.

Aelin sighed and laid back against her bedroll. All right, so it had been a long time since she was allowed to go on a trip like this. Likely, Darrow assumed they would be staying in hotels most of the way, and he was right for the most part. However, at the pace they intended to set it was impossible to completely avoid camping as they cut through the wilderness between Orynth and Rifthold.

A pair of knee high leather boots entered her vision, and she frowned as she looked up to meet Rowan’s gaze. “Did you need something, Buzzard?” she asked.

Either he had still been upset with her for the way she had told him about their journey or he had missed stretching his wings, for Rowan had spent the majority of the day flying ahead of them as the white-tailed hawk whose form he could take. Aedion had joked about her driving the male into an animal form until Lysandra had grinned and shifted into a ghost leopard. He had been noticeably paler and quieter after that.

As she sat up, Rowan inclined his head toward the pile of wood Aedion had gathered. “Light a fire.”

Aelin frowned. “Are you certain that’s a good idea?”

A cool breeze scented with the pine and snow she associated with her homeland blew around them, and Rowan met her gaze with a fierce grin. “I think we’ll be safe enough,” he replied.

She sighed and reached a hand out toward the pile of logs, only to have it smacked away. When she glared at him, he only smirked. “It’s a crutch. You don’t need it,” he declared.

“Maybe I like the dramatic effect,” she huffed, but obediently she wrapped her arm around her knees instead and began to focus on the logs.

“Easy,” he muttered by her ear. “Control. Only take as much as you need, and no more.”

Aelin gasped in a breath of the cool air that was still flowing around them and examined the well of power that was slowly becoming more familiar to her. Surely it would only take a little to start the fire, and so she imagined just a small thread coming out of that well…

The fire lit, and she grinned in satisfaction.

“Good,” came Rowan’s voice beside her. “Keep it going.”

“How long?” she asked, already beginning to sweat with the effort needed to restrain the rest of that well.

“For as long as I say,” he smirked.

Aelin grumbled at his typical lack of a specific guideline, but focused on the flames regardless. They were almost hypnotic, with the way the reds and oranges and yellows swirled and with the way the individual flames danced and swayed together. With Rowan around to contain her should something go terribly wrong, she was able to let go of some of her fear of the power she wielded and appreciate the beauty of it all.

As she watched, she idly wondered if she would be able to create fire that did not burn. Perhaps another time, though, as this fire needed to be able to cook the fish Lysandra was busy catching from the nearby stream. Instead, she worked to manipulate the height of the flames, first coaxing it down nearly to embers and then working up a bonfire nearly as tall as Aedion.

“Easy,” Rowan hissed as the flames licked higher, but Aelin was lost to the beauty, mesmerized by the rhythms she could see in the movements. She swayed with them until a cool arm wrapped around her, pulling her into a body that was equally cool, and she suddenly realized that she was burning like her fire. No, she was her fire, and he was his ice, and she nestled closer with a contented moan at the temporary relief from the heat.

“Aelin, that’s enough,” she heard distantly. “Let go.”

Why should she let go? She was one with the flames, and they were beautiful, swirling together in a stunning and glimmering dance. As she watched they danced higher, and she shifted to work out a twinge in her lower back before going back to swaying with the fire.

Aelin. Was the voice in her imagination now, or was Rowan actually speaking? Aelin, stop this now. Let go. He sounded so worried, but she couldn’t find the words to tell him to stop fussing. Couldn’t find any words at all, actually. All she could do was hold on.

A distant sigh carried the scent of pine and snow to her, and she sighed in relief at its familiarity but still couldn’t look away from the beauty of her creation. “Forgive me,” said a voice beside her, though she could hardly focus on it.

Before long, she couldn’t focus on anything but gasping as the air was pulled away from her. She choked on nothing, hands going to her throat, but still she clung to the tether between herself and the fire. Why it seemed so important, she couldn’t say, she just knew that all would be lost if she let go now.

Darkness encroached on her vision, though, and without the air she couldn’t hold on. Distant shouts rang in her ears as the tether slipped away from her and she fell away into the shadows.

She must have only been gone for a moment, as when she opened her eyes the fire was merrily crackling without her aid, but she realized with horror that something must have gone terribly wrong.

She was burning inside, and not even the cool of Rowan’s wind was enough to stop it.

~*~*~

Rowan let out several curses in both the common tongue and the Old Language as Aelin collapsed into him. She was burning up, overly hot to the touch, and dimly he realized she must have overextended herself. She had lost control of her magic, to the point where words had been unable to reach her and he’d had to forcibly break her connection to their campfire. Who knew how much power she had let flow into the flames?

It was too much, that much was evident from the flush of her cheeks and the arch of her back in combination with the heat emanating from her.

Quickly, he worked to remove the leather jerkin she’d worn for their ride, not stopping as her cousin let out a startled cough. “What are you doing?” Aedion demanded, torn between confusion and anger.

“She’s burning up,” Rowan snapped. “She lost control and used too much, and she needs to get cool now or…” He didn’t let himself think of the possible consequences.

Not even the removal of the heavy leather from her frame was enough, he realized, nor was the breeze. He didn’t dare remove the cotton tunic and trousers she wore, not with her demi-Fae cousin looking on and already on edge. But there was a stream nearby, and if he could freeze the water around her… Yes. That was their best chance at getting her through this.

Without a second thought he scooped her into his arms, gritting his teeth as she moaned and buried her face against his chest. How had he let this happen? One moment she was leaned against him, face upturned into the breeze he was directing to blow past them, and the next…

He should have been keeping a closer eye on her, he admonished himself as he ran for the stream. He knew she was largely untrained, and liable to lose control, and he hadn’t been watching closely enough for the signs.

The stream had been near the camp to begin with and he was quick to reach it as she burned in his arms, wading in with her without a moment’s hesitation and hissing as steam began to rise around them. Before she could raise the temperature of the water dangerously high he quickly froze what was coming into contact with her, only for her to melt his ice almost immediately.

He growled in frustration and froze the area again. This was his fault, and it was up to him to help her through this. He would not—could not—fail now.

Once they got through this—for she would come through this and be all right, he would not accept any other option—he would give her the lecture of her mortal life about control and recognizing the signs of a burnout. Gods, they had just talked about this potentiality a few short days ago, only for her to be in this position now. He knew, though, that it was ultimately his fault. He could’ve better explained the signs, he could’ve watched more closely, he could’ve cut her off before she reached this point…

A litany of his own shortcomings as a teacher raced through his mind as he struggled against the heat she was generating, freezing the water again and again before she could boil them both. A crashing noise emanated from the bank—her cousin or his mate, no doubt, come to observe. He didn’t even glance in their direction as he growled a warning. He couldn’t be certain if his growl or the steam she was still generating was what decided it, but whoever had joined them remained blessedly silent as he continued to work.

Sweat gathered on his brow as he continued to focus as much as he could on bringing her temperature down, nearly-blind panic lending him strength. The extreme shifts in temperature she was experiencing would likely be deeply unpleasant for her, and she would hurt the next day, but he was no healer and had only limited resources at his disposal. She could hate him later, as long as she survived this.

Each time he froze the water his ice lasted a little longer before melting away, and finally the water stayed cool around them. Aelin remained flushed, eyes unfocused and overly bright, but she was no longer burning in her own skin. She wasn’t all the way back to a normal temperature, likely wouldn’t be for several more minutes at least, but she was no longer in immediate peril and so Rowan allowed himself a single moment of relief.

Her turquoise-and-gold gaze finally landed on her face. “What…?” she began to ask, voice hoarse.

“You almost burned out,” he managed, carefully not allowing himself to wonder just how close she had come to the edge of her power. “How are you feeling?”

Aelin shivered, though the flush remained high on her cheeks. “Awful,” she admitted.

“That’s to be expected, I’m afraid.” Rowan carefully directed a cool breeze to blow across her face, eyes closing for a moment as it wafted the scent of hot embers and floral jasmine into his awareness. “Are you in danger of flaring up again?” he asked as he redirected his attention to watching her face.

Aelin’s eyes fluttered shut, obviously taking stock of her own state of being. “No,” she managed, another hint of steam escaping from her as she breathed. “No, it’s still… but it’s getting better.”

Carefully, Rowan pulled her further into the stream, enough to tilt her head back and allow the cold water to flow into her hair for one more point of contact with something cool. His chest and arms cried out at the sudden cold, and he dimly realized she must have burned him while he was getting her to the water. It was much milder than the first time she had burned him, though. He would have endured far worse if it meant getting her to safety. “You’re still too warm, and you’re going to feel this tomorrow,” he warned her. Already he could feel the urge to take her away somewhere safe, keep her comfortable and protected while she recovered. She would be largely useless for another day or two as her magic replenished, likely too weak and sore to even hold one of the knives she loved so well.

Rowan quickly did his best to tamp down on the instincts now screaming at him to bundle her into a cave or whatever small room they could find on the road. It’s not my place, he reminded himself, though the words rang hollow even in his own mind.

Aelin sighed and shivered again, the flush of her cheeks finally fading to something more normal. “Thank you,” she breathed. “If you hadn’t cut me off from the fire, I…”

He hissed softly. “I pushed you too far. You should’ve told me you were so close to your limits, though.”

She grimaced. “I’m in for one hell of a lecture tomorrow, aren’t I?”

He gave her a glare in response that he hoped said something along the lines of you’d better believe you’re in for a lecture. 

Aelin sighed, curling around herself. “I suppose I deserve that. I thought everything was fine, it all happened so fast.”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” he said quietly. “Right now, I just want you focused on recovering. Let me know when this gets too cold, and we’ll get you out of the water.”

A moment of discomfort crossed her face, then. Before he could ask her what was wrong, she fisted a hand in his shirt. “Aedion,” she managed. “If I go back to the camp like this, if he sees me struggling into dry clothes, he’ll panic. I’ve already got you to deal with, I want him to be as calm as we can keep him.”

He nodded. It was a reasonable enough worry, after all, for this girl who was surrounded by males with Fae ancestry. “I’ll head back first, then, bring your bag back here.” He carefully didn’t tell her that her cousin was likely already on edge, instead moving her closer to the shore and making sure she would stay put before climbing out of the water himself.

He grimaced as the wind of his own shield around the camp came into contact with his shirt, before calling a stronger wind to dry his own clothing out as much as possible. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do for now.

As he’d suspected, Aedion was impatiently awaiting their return, pacing around the fire. “Where is she?” he demanded.

“In the stream, cooling off,” Rowan replied. “She asked me bring her bag to the shore. Something about overprotective Fae males.”

It was clearly something he had heard her say before, judging by his laugh and the hand that carded through his own golden hair. “She’s been telling me off for it since we were children,” Aedion said, confirming his suspicions. “If she’s good enough to yell at you about it, that’s good enough for me. We should reach the next town tomorrow, unless…”

Rowan shook his head. “She’s not going to move anywhere fast tomorrow. It’ll likely be the day after.”

Aedion nodded slowly. “I’d rather spend less time out in the open, but if she can’t make it she can’t make it. We’ll adapt.”

Rowan nodded and grabbed Aelin’s bag. As he headed back toward the stream, he took a deep breath and allowed a part of himself to sink into the well of wind and ice at his core.

If they were to be on the road for longer than expected, with Aelin almost entirely defenseless, they would need all the help they could get.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09

#rowaelin #rules of engagement #haven writes

[silver-wield]

I dont understand why aerith only abused cloud and not the other characters, whats her motive? have you ever been abused or at least know someone who was? can you also tell me more about aerith’s character? she’s the one i know the least so i would appreciate the enlightenment

Following on from this

Did I say Aerith was abusive or that her actions were? Because Aerith's not an abusive character, but she does things that harm others because of certain reasons. Also, some of my earlier comments about chapter 8 and Aerith's behaviour are before I learned more about her pov motivation, so it's only taken from Cloud's pov. Which I have no regrets about. I prefer Cloud over Aerith.

Cloud just got the brunt of things because he spent longer with her. The way Aerith assumes she knows everyone and that her way is best does harm others because it shows she doesn't respect their opinions or value them as individuals who behave differently to how she expects. She doesn't really know everyone, she just thinks she does because she knows info she shouldn't. But, vague information from the lifestream or wherever she got it doesn't form a complete picture. It also doesn't replace actual relationship development. She's trying to run before she can crawl.

From Aerith's pov, she's doing good. She's not intentionally abusive to people. She's poorly socialised, bossy and been treated as special since she was a child. She's got no frame of reference in how to have healthy relationships with people. She had no friends as a kid and none later. Kyrie was a bad influence on her and not a true friend. She's never had a true friend and only Zack loved her besides her moms. Her dad died when she was a baby, so she doesn't remember him. She's basically a spoiled child expecting to get what she wants and then can't accept the truth when it doesn't match her expectations.

From the others povs she's withholding vital information, treating them like they can't do things without her input and acting like she's the leader, despite just meeting everyone. Since what she's asking them to help with is saving the planet and Avalanche are self proclaimed protectors, and Cloud and Tifa are Sephiroth's enemies they won't refuse. Red agrees because his race are more attuned to the planet anyway. It's part of who he is to help protect it.

It's a matter of emotional maturity. Tifa has the most of the younger characters and currently, Aerith wavers between her OG immaturity and her meta knowledge which gives her unearned wisdom, but she doesn't know how to apply that wisdom, so just comes off bossy.

Cloud doesn't know how to deal with conflict except to beat it senseless and doesn't know how to deal with women, except to be a passive dummy when most of them manhandle him. He also doesn't want anything to do with any woman romantically except Tifa, which is why he's always touching her and flirting.

Cloud knows that Tifa reacts badly when people she cares about are in danger, so he's trying to keep her calm. Since Aerith interrupts immediately after this we don't know what the conclusion of this would be if Cloud was allowed to continue speaking. Most likely, he'd suggest getting back to sector 7, too, because he already agreed with her they need to go when he woke her up before the Abzu battle. Tifa respects Cloud's opinion and military background, so that's why she's asking his advice.

By jumping in and alarming Tifa, Aerith has actually caused harm because it's put her in an anxious state, which we see escalating throughout the sewers.

Cloud kept Tifa calm and focused. Aerith has done the opposite. Because she thinks she knows best.

Having put Tifa in a more anxious state than she was earlier, Aerith now withholds information, which breaks trust between them.

This harms Tifa. She now has to worry about Aerith's true motives as well as sector 7. Tifa avoids confronting her suspicions because she's non-confrontational by nature. And Aerith could be innocent and Tifa's imagining everything.

It's not a healthy state of mind Aerith's encouraged.

Aerith has observed how Tifa is with Cloud and deliberately baits her, which causes harm to Tifa.

Aerith's motives aren't the focus here and I've explained from her pov she's helping, but from Tifa's pov, this girl she just met is trying to take the guy she's liked since she was 13.

The look on Aerith's face is playful, but Tifa's isn't. She looks unhappy. With Aerith. She thought they were becoming friends and then Aerith does this.

And as I said, it's worth noting this is different to the JP scene where Tifa is just worried and Aerith's teasing her to try and improve her mood. So, this scene was deliberately played up to highlight a negative behaviour from Aerith and provoke Tifa.

Aerith never explains why Barret can't do things. She just orders everyone around and expects them to listen, but she doesn't listen to them.

Even when asked, she doesn't say anything, and this is harming the entire party. Just because we know the plot doesn't make what she's doing okay. She knows about Sephiroth and doesn't warn anyone beforehand. So, later when Cloud and Tifa see him in the drum, they're not prepared.

This adds to everyone's suspicion about Aerith.

Suspicious Aerith

Suspicious Aerith 2

See, the thing is, if someone is suspicious then you can't trust them. And trust is a big factor in relationships. By making herself untrustworthy by lying and acting in a suspicious way, Aerith isn't fulfilling one of the basic cornerstones of a good relationship.

Four cornerstones of a strong relationship: Tifa

Four cornerstones of a strong relationship: Cloud

Respect

Aerith shows she doesn't respect Tifa's opinion about Cloud and dismisses her valid concerns. She redirects to ask about her instead, which Tifa brushes off. The girls don't have a lot of conversation in the drum, which shows they're not that close or that Tifa doesn't trust her enough to chat after the sewers. Tifa has chosen to remain focused.

From Aerith's pov, ignoring Cloud shows she's not interested in him, but Tifa is and is worried and wanted reassurance, which Aerith didn't provide.

Honesty

During their first interaction, Aerith lies to Cloud several times, and keeps lying throughout the game, either by omission or outright lying.

Aerith lies about knowing the Turks, while knowing how dangerous they are.

A person who lies isn't someone who can be trusted. This is why Cloud and Tifa are suspicious of Aerith, even up to the end battle where Sephiroth speaks from behind Aerith and Cloud gives her a suspicious look. Because Aerith's own behaviour combines with Sephiroth's motives. If Aerith hadn't made herself suspicious then Sephiroth wouldn't be as effective here.

Trust

Cloud shakes his head here. He knows Aerith doesn't trust them because she keeps lying. See how things connect? Aerith lies, it makes her untrustworthy and affects people's relationships with her in a negative way.

Cloud agrees to go fetch Aerith because he knows what Shinra are like, isn't an asshole, feels obligated and Elmyra literally orders him to "bring her back to me" after he gets permission to go. Which is why it's listed as operation: save Aerith in the story summary.

Friendship

And as for friendship, well both Barret and Tifa call Aerith "our friend" but Cloud says "a friend" to mayor Domino and then later when he says "our friend" to the guy outside the battle sim, all of them are framed. But, when he said "a friend" to mayor Domino only Cloud was framed. This suggests that to Cloud Aerith isn't a friend.

So, Aerith fails to satisfy the basic cornerstones of a good relationship with others. That's not saying she's a bad person or has bad motives, but currently she's not in good standing.

As for her behaviour in sector 5 with Cloud, from her pov, her actions weren't bad either.

The protagonist Cloud, who played the hero like Zack, is the unforgettable protagonist of FFVII. The beginning of the story, he seems cool, but in reality he is not good with communication and feels less than he is. “I wanted to be in SOLIDER, but I couldn’t.” Because he wanted to hide himself (because of Zack's death and the Nibelheim incident), the Jenova cells that were planted in him in Nibelheim formed a personality that were based on Zack’s memories. In CC, Cloud was weak but he was influenced by Zack. In the beginning of the story, Cloud takes on the title of “Zack”. Aerith was shocked when she meets Cloud due to him mirroring Zack in behavior.

That's a rough translation, but the fact is Aerith saw Zack in Cloud from their first meeting and that's why she chased after him in chapter 2. This is the CC ultimania, BTW, and it's getting a reprint, so the info in it is canon to Remake because the devs advised players to read more compilation materials. This is one of them.

Her motives aren't bad, but we can't only see things from her pov. Other people matter too. Cloud wasn't happy with her throughout chapter 8 because of her behaviour. Her motives don't factor into his feelings because she never reveals why she's doing it. Even if she did explain, it doesn't excuse her ignoring how Cloud feels.

Because Aerith is using Cloud as a prop for Zack it does harm her relationship with him and others. In the chapter 9 Corneo's dungeon conversation we can see Tifa notices Cloud isn't happy with Aerith suggesting they stay and get info out of Corneo. His reaction colors her opinion of Aerith later when he wakes her in the sewers. That's why she asks how he knows her because he doesn't seem to be acting like they're friends as Aerith claimed.

And Aerith isn't treating Cloud like he's Cloud through a lot of chapter 8 and 9 and only pulls back when they meet up with Tifa.

So much zerith

And by deluding herself, Aerith gets to be with Zack again, which she alludes to in her resolution when she says she's grateful to Cloud and he made her more happy than he knows. Because she got to pretend she spent one more day with Zack. But, then she shatters her own delusion by telling Cloud that any potential feelings he might have in the future are fake. Because Cloud's persona is fake. He's not Zack.

In the OG, Aerith's GS date alludes to Cloud's fake persona too, but she says she wants to meet the real him. She doesn't say that here. She ignores Cloud again, and by doing so answers his question in that he doesn't get a say because she's not listening to him. Because she doesn't care.

And when the party reaches her in chapter 16, it's even more clear that Aerith has set aside her delusions in favour of building better relationships with the other characters. She's more invested in Red, Tifa and Barret than she is Cloud.

However, it's an uphill struggle with Tifa because of the previous behaviour she exhibited.

See how things circle back? Aerith made herself suspicious, Tifa loses trust in her and that affects their relationship later so that Tifa is less likely to confide in her. She's being Tifa Lockhart. And we know Tifa can open up with those she really trusts because she does with Cloud. Because they have a strong set of cornerstones to their relationship.

So, from Aerith's pov, it's not abuse because she has some very good reasons for treating Cloud and others the way she does. She's aware of some future events and knows about Sephiroth and she also deluded herself into thinking Cloud was Zack.

But, because they don't know her motives it does actually harm the relationships between her and them. Even Red seems to mistrust her because he knows some of what she was up to with the whispers, as stated during the opening of chapter 17 where he explains the whispers purpose and looks right at Aerith when he mentions people tampering with fate.

But, this is what character development is for. Aerith needs to grow as a person and not just in power. So, I expect a lot of her more childish traits like being overly bossy and not having any listening skills will be addressed in future parts.

#final fantasy 7 remake #ff7r #ffviir #final fantasy 7r #final fantasy viir #Character analysis #Aerith Gainsborough

[cognitivefunk]

A Steamy Encounter

Based loosely on the steamy encounter event. Alright it’s been a rough 4 years since I’ve written any sort of fanfiction and it’s my first time writing in second person POV so be gentle~ I wanted to give Dazai a little love because I really like his character and can’t wait for his route!! 

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Character: Osamu Dazai Rating: M to E, I didn’t get crazy explicit but it’s 18+ Warnings: Mild Choking, mild dark themes, sexual content, mention of blood Word Count: 6,067

 A deep sigh filled the cavernous room, echoing softly against the walls of the lavish thermae as you sank into the water. Your shoulders and lower back ached from doing laundry for a better half of the afternoon, and internally you reprimanded yourself for ever thinking doing laundry in modern day was a chore since throwing it into the washer and dryer was much easier than scrubbing out the sheets and linen by hand. But you couldn’t find it in you to complain since it did help pass the time and the fresh air outside in the spring sun was a much healthier alternative to the way that you usually spent your days indoors on your computer or on your phone when you weren’t working. While the sun had felt warm on your face at the time, the chill of the evening sank into your bones as you finished up your task for the day, bringing in the laundry before the frost set in for the night. Faintly, you could hear the sound of freezing rain pelting the roof as you close your eyes, focusing on the hot water melting the pain away from your tired muscles, oblivious to your surroundings.

This time of year could be beautiful as buds began to sprout and tiny signs of life from a long winter emerged. It was strange how the seasons matched up when you had walked through that door weeks ago. You may have travelled through time, but some things remained the same. However, maybe it was the lack of big city lights, but the end of winter here seemed harsher than back home. Lost in your reverie, a part of you felt bad for the buds which emerged to the deceitful warmth of spring only to die once night fell, encapsulating new life in a frosty glaze. But such is life, fleetingly beautiful and temporary. You shake your head to clear your thoughts, tilting your head back until the fine hairs at the nape of your neck barely grazed the water, mindful not to let your messy bun touch the water. The fatigue must be getting to you. Living in a mansion full of vampires had you thinking of your own mortality lately, and it was starting to get to you.

Unbeknownst to you, watchful golden eyes examined you from across the bath. He had been sitting still as a statue since he saw you enter the bath, wondering if you had noticed him in the slightest, but realizing that you were off in your own little world. A soft exhale left him as you climbed into the water, relishing in its warmth, your expression was tired and he wondered if Sebastian had worked you too hard today. ‘So tired, poor little bird…’ He was content watching you from afar until that lonely expression crossed your face as you began your mild existential crisis and his body began to move on its own accord.

…Slosh…

               The sound of water startled you from your inner monologue and you clutched your chest out of reflex, eyes scanning the bath, searching for the source of the noise. You could have sworn that this was your bathing block; did you read the schedule wrong?  It hadn’t even occurred to you that somebody else could be using the bath across the steam on the other side; you hadn’t thought to check before sliding in. Internally, you scolded yourself for your carelessness. “Hello?” the greeting lingered in the air, heat creeping up your neck and flushing across your face. ‘Hello? Really, that’s what you think to say in this situation??’ you cringed slightly, wishing you had thought of something a bit more coherent then an informal greeting to the man who was coming closer now.

You hear a faint chuckle before a lilted voice spoke. “Ah, Toshiko-san~ You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to interrupt you!” the lively voice carried well in the thermae. How long had he been sitting there without making any noise? “D-Dazai?” your voice cracked in embarrassment, but part of you was thankful that it was him, as you found him less threatening than some of the others, such as a certain foul-mouthed Dutchman who would likely make you want to change your identity and flee the country if he found you in here. The sound of water rippling and splashing filled the bath again as he crept closer to you, his form becoming clear as he emerged from the steam. A breath hitched in your throat at the prospect of him coming closer, but you didn’t want to make things any more awkward than they already felt by moving.

“I was wondering who had come to join me~ But isn’t your bathing block earlier in the evening? Did you not realize the time Yumiko-san? It’s already so dark…” he questioned playfully, golden eyes shining with a hint of amusement. You sank down again, both arms holding your breasts from his wandering gaze. “Sachiko-san,” he was disarming you, calling you every name under the sun except for yours, “no need to feel self-conscious! I can hardly see anything through all this steam!” He was lying through his teeth, maybe that was true when he was across the water but now that he’s so close it couldn’t possibly be true. But his words sounded so soft and assured with that breezy smile of his, so you chose to believe him anyway. At least that’s what you told yourself. Golden eyes trailed away pointedly as he stretched languidly and situated himself against the wall again, so close that you could reach out and touch him if the fancy struck. But you buried that thought and awkwardly uncrossed your arms, the misty water cupping around your chest, hiding your secrets.

When you lifted your gaze to look in his direction, you could see he had closed his eyes, a serene expression painted on his handsome face. He had been lost in his own reverie when you wandered into the bath, completely unguarded and candid as you were. He found you interesting, someone who wore their heart on their sleeve, with an emotional purity that both enraptured him and made him want to dissect to see what emotion he could provoke. It was for this reason that he felt incredible guilt when he thought about you. He wished that he could have watched you for longer from across the bath, at a distance, but he could not bring himself to sit idly by when you looked like the world was troubling you. What kind of man would he be to leave a girl alone with lonely thoughts to keep her company?

“I’m sorry, the time must’ve slipped from me, I was so focused on laundry that I didn’t think to check the time before I came over..” you reasoned, getting ready to exit the bath until you realized you hadn’t brought the towel over to the edge since you weren’t planning on company. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks and you stalled, speaking your thoughts aloud “I should really get going.” You hoped he would offer to leave instead, so you would have time to grab your towel before anyone else came in.

Ever observant as he was, Dazai watched you through a cracked eye from a sidelong glance, enjoying the moment you tried to slink off to the edge only to freeze as panic spread across your features. His laughter filled the air, turning your attention back to him. “No need to feel self-conscious. Back in Japan we bath in mixed baths all the time, right?” He paused, turning to look at you once again, eyes focused on yours with an emotion you could not read. “You know, speaking with you like this reminds me of home…” there was a hint of sadness in his words, a glint of sorrow slowly drowning, replaced by another playful face so quickly you thought you had imagined it. “Besides, if someone else walks in I can hide you behind my back~” he mused, eyes deliberately trailing to the door of the thermae before locking back on your face. The dusty pink color deepened on your cheeks at the thought of anyone else walking in on you like this. You already felt very vulnerable, but at the same time somewhat thankful for Dazai’s offer. Your gaze fell upon his broad shoulders at his suggestion and your throat felt dry suddenly, at the prospect of hiding behind him. You’d never noticed how muscular he was before under that Taisho-style kimono he always wore. The way the water beaded down his chest, dripping off of his hair as his smile deepened and the corner of his eyes crinkled in amusement. You tried to clear your parched throat and reasoned that it was due to the heat of the bath. You must be getting dehydrated.

“It’s cold tonight, isn’t it…” his voice reverberated in a lower register this time, his eyelashes lowering into an alluring glance, which, despite the heat made you shiver. Or maybe it was wishful thinking; you could never quite understand what was going through that man’s head. You cast your eyes down as a reflex, suddenly feeling very small. As an unintended consequence, you came face to face with his abdomen, momentarily becoming entranced by the way the water clung to his toned abs before realizing he had shifted closer soundlessly. How was he able to move through water without you noticing, or was it that your heart rushing through your ears was blocking out the sound of the water around you. The water was misty enough to mask his more private area and your eyes frantically scanned the water looking for somewhere else to focus your gaze on. Your flustered stare did not go unnoticed, stirring a darker emotion within the man. His fingers twitched at his side, you were so close, and your scent was starting to intoxicate him. For a fleeting moment, his eyes glazed over as he pictured capturing your lips beneath his as he slowly drug the both of you under the water, gasping painfully as the water filled both of your lungs—No. He chased away the haunting thoughts that threatened to consume him, a hollow feeling spreading across his chest. He wanted to drown in you yes, maybe fall a little, drenched in desire… but not drag you down into the abyss. Not you. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, lost momentarily in the darkness that consumed his soul.

“Yeah, it is,” you responded, completely oblivious to the war raging on inside the man beside you, and you began rubbing at your left shoulder as another nervous habit, working at a knot that was relaxing from the heat. Your voice ripped him from his mental prison, and his gaze locked onto the hand on your shoulder, and suddenly you were being turned away from the man beside you, your eyebrows knitting together in a confused expression. “Dazai?”

That’s right he wanted to play with you, to paint your face a pretty red and make you tremble in his grasp, but he didn’t want to scare you away. He wasn’t sure if he could handle you running from him. If you were to look at him with fear in your eyes it would not only crush him but would affirm the spiteful, seething voice in his head that reminded him of his own worthlessness. But you, you were such a pretty thing; he couldn’t pluck your wings and taint you with his darker impulses. Not now.

“Shh, relax Sochiko-san! You worked so hard today, you’re such an honest girl aren’t you?” his words had a playful innuendo that you couldn’t miss and you made a squeaking noise when you felt his firm touch on your shoulders, slowly kneading away your fatigue. You were about to push him away but his touch felt fantastic after the long day you had endured. “There, there. Now, isn’t that better? Just like that, relax into me. Let me help,” As he spoke, he pressed into a particularly sore spot and a soft moan escaped your lips. You felt him pause behind you and could have sworn you heard him take in a sharp, soft breath before continuing. “Such an honest girl…” His words felt like electricity in your lower abdomen, lighting you up from inside. Your face was burning as stifled the sounds coming from your traitorous mouth as he worked his magic on your shoulders.

A shudder went through his spine as he listened to your gentle voice, echoing off the walls, the only other sound being the soft ripple of the water and your breathing. He let out a sigh, his jaw tightening as you let your guard down around him. He trailed his fingers up your neck, kneading at the base of your skull, relishing at your closeness. It made his heart ache. He didn’t deserve such sweetness, but he craved it, pined for it. Why were you letting him touch you like this? Did you not realize that he was a man with selfish desires? “You know…rainy nights are my favorite,” he changed the topic, hearing the freezing rain outside blow against the windows of the thermae. For a moment you thought you heard the soft rumble of distant thunder and sighed, contentedly.

“Yeah? I like it when it storms. The sound of thunder makes me happy,” you admitted, too embarrassed to explain that strong storms gave you a sense of arousal akin to fulgarophilia, especially lightning storms. It gave you a sense of adrenaline that you couldn’t quite explain, but you were also fond of dark rainy nights. They made you feel safe.  And right now, you felt safe with Dazai, even if a part of your brain told you that this was a risky situation. You fought the urge to lean into him, when you felt him maneuvering you to face him again.

“Y/n…” again, his voice took on a low, almost sultry tone as he leaned toward you, easily towering over you. It almost felt like whiplash when you realized he said your actual name and not the nicknames he throws around on a whim. Suddenly, you became a lot more aware of the intimacy of your situation.  He lifted your chin with such gentleness it was as though he thought he would break you if he didn’t handle you with utmost care. The heat in his gaze made you feel dizzy, and you closed your eyes instinctively, anticipating his touch when you felt him shift toward you. But instead of feeling lips graze against your parted mouth, you felt his teeth ghost over your ear, his hot breath feeding the flame in your belly. “Dazai?” you whispered, afraid your voice wouldn’t work.

When had your hands betrayed you by resting on his taut, muscular chest? Your fingers curled against his skin and it hadn’t registered that the only thing keeping your bare breasts from being flush against his chest was your hands resting there. His breath was hot on your ear as he murmured, “Do you not see me as a man, y/n-chan?” His question felt heavy in the air, the tension was almost suffocating. “Or can I take it that you want me?” You shivered, taking a gulp at what saliva remained in your mouth and you gasped as you felt his tongue dart out, tracing your earlobe with a wet trail that almost sent you over the edge right then and there. You closed your eyes, daring your voice to speak, “What if s—“

And just like that you were interrupted, and your thoughts were scattered again when you felt his hands wrap around your shoulders, slowly shifting you behind him, all the while murmuring against your ear, “Someone’s coming, Kimiko-san~” You wanted to scream for two reasons. One, being that you were almost caught with Dazai in the bath, which carried several implications but also that you were interrupted from one of those implications becoming reality. You couldn’t deny that you had a crush on the eccentric man, who up until moments ago was massaging you in such an intimate way; you almost thought you would wake up any moment now. But the spell was broken, and the change of name hit you right in the gut with a sinking sensation. A quiet chuckle filled the air, as he studied your reaction, hiding you behind his large frame.

The sounds of footsteps were approaching from down the hallway when Dazai leaned closer, silently cursing the situation and for letting his guard down. He wished he could have heard you sing a little more before letting his little bird go for the night. His lustful desires almost put you in a compromising situation and he chastised himself for nearly losing control. His fangs ached from teasing the shell of your ear before informing you of the incoming guests. Standing from the water, he took his towel and wrapped it around your waist, giving you some cover and warmth as he backed out of the water carefully, making sure you were flush behind him, pressed firmly against his back. “Ayaka-san,” he chimed, seemingly back to the silly nicknames as though nothing had happened, “Do exactly as I say, unless you want Vincent and Theo-kun to see you~”

It was hard to breathe, feeling your soul temporarily exiting your body as you moved, pressed against Dazai’s completely naked form. He had given you his towel for a shred of decency as he maneuvered the two of you toward a back wall of the thermae. You could hear the voices of the two brothers approaching as they laughed among one another, clearly enjoying each other’s company. He snagged his kimono which was draped over a pillar nearby an unlatched window and wrapped it over your shoulders before opening the window to the outside. “It’s cold outside Yumiko-san,” he chided, hoisting you up onto his back as he crouched to carefully crawl out the window with you in tow. “What are you doing!?” you exclaimed, clasping a hand over your mouth when the approaching laughter paused. You had to keep your voice down or they would find you in an even more ridiculous position than just being found naked in the bath.

Dazai made a shushing noise with his finger pressed against his lips and continued to crawl out the window, letting it latch as it shut behind the two of you, locking you both outside. At night. In the freezing rain, half naked. You nuzzled closer into Dazai’s back, relishing in his warmth as he guided you expertly to his room, in all his naked glory, without running into a single person. Part of you was astonished at the audacity of the situation, while the other part was thoroughly impressed. It would seem this wasn’t his first stint, and another blush formed at the thought that this was probably the first time he’d roamed the mansion naked. Wait, he was still naked! Your eyes worriedly looked up at him as he set you down gingerly on his futon, and you were once again reminded of the intimate nature of your position. He stared down at your face, ‘so completely unguarded’ and a soft smile broke out on his face as he brought his hand down to pet your hair affectionately. “Safe and sound Sochiko-san!” he beamed at you and it was all too much.

Laughter bubbled up in your throat, startling him for a moment before he broke out into a soft laughter of his own. He loved the sound of your laughter, but the sound almost too bright for him to handle in this state. Never in a million years would you have pictured anything close to this happening in your life. You wiped a tear from your eye before touching Dazai’s arm to see if he was as freezing as you thought he must be, running around with you on his back in the freezing rain. “You better not catch a cold!” you scolded him, a few bouts of laughter still escaping your exasperated form. You worried about his health, unsure if a vampire could even catch a cold, but just the thought made you feel guilty since you would have played a part in it.

“Then why don’t you keep me warm?” there was a huskiness to his voice again as he crawled over you, forcing you to lean back to look up at him. You licked your lips, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly thirsty and you weren’t sure it was for water. His gaze was so intense you thought it would set you ablaze right then and there, struggling to think of a response you floundered for a moment before his mask slipped back into place and he poked your nose with his finger, teasing you. “Just kidding~” he lilted, leaving you feeling flustered and embarrassed. You opened and closed your mouth several times, completely at a loss of how to respond to the whirlwind of emotions Dazai was putting you through tonight. You frowned, this wasn’t good for your heart, but you didn’t want to come out and say that you’d like to spend the night in his bed if he didn’t feel the same. Was he just messing with you?

That look of frustration tempted him. He wanted to devour you head to toe, watch you squirm beneath him and cry out his name. Just the thought of you showing him your wild side was working him up and he was a mess of contradictions, with an incredible feeling of shame for capitalizing on the situation. He kept trying to convince himself that he didn’t deserve this moment, that you were too untainted for him to drag down to his depths. If you let him hold you like this, he would never let you go. Another sound of frustration escaped your lips as you try to find the words that seem to be at the tip of your tongue, wanting to hide your face until you could compose yourself enough to speak like a normal person. Although normal in this situation wasn’t exactly warranted.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he tilted his head, studying your face, “Oh? Toshiko-san, your face is becoming redder than an apple, careful or I might have to eat you up,” his playful voice was strained with lust as he leaned in toward you, his cool skin brushing the nape of your neck as his lips ghosted over the sensitive skin. Another soft moan escaped your throat and you wriggled beneath him, freezing when you felt something hard pressed against your inner thigh. “My, my…” he breathed against your neck, inhaling your scent as he murmured against you, “What a naughty girl, working me up like this. Bad, bad girl.”

His gentle reprimand made the heat pool in your nethers, and you shivered in response. You gathered your courage to speak, trying to sound sultry through the nervous rasp of your voice, “Why don’t you stop joking around and let me keep you warm then?” There it was, that dark shadow of lust that clouded over his eyes again, mixing with an unimaginable sadness that tugged at your heartstrings, nearly drowning you in his bewitching gaze. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything; you didn’t want to overstep any boundaries with him after all. You opened your mouth to apologize when his lips came crashing down on yours. “Mmph!”

A pallid thumb brushed against your lower lip and pulled down, giving entrance for his greedy tongue, twisting and dancing alongside yours as you moan into his mouth. Your heart felt like it was going to leap right from your chest, the way it was beating, the blood rushing from your head to places further south. “Dazai!!” you gasped, arching subconsciously into his groin as he peppered your jaw with gentle nips and kisses, earning a low groan from the eccentric man above you. “Y/n…” he slipped down your body, pulling at the towel he had carefully wrapped around you, admiring you sprawled out on his futon with his kimono forgotten underneath you, your body exposed as he tossed the damp towel to the floor. He gently took one of your legs in his hands, delicately running his hands down to your ankle before lifting it to his mouth, his golden eyes almost glowing in the dimly lit room, daring you to look away as he sensually licked your ankle starting with the top of your foot to the soft fleshy divot where the joints bend.

You stared, wide eyed, and started to close your legs, feeling exposed under his raw, hungry gaze, but he used his free hand to push your knee open again, nestling himself on his own knees between yours as he worked his way up to your thigh, running his tongue along your inner leg, causing you to shiver and reach out, grabbing a handful of his hair and tugging slightly. His eyes nearly rolled at the sensation, a shudder rolling over his body as he looked up from his spot between your legs. He nuzzled his face against the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh, sighing almost erotically.

“Y/n…silly girl. Don’t you know you should run? I told you before, all men are wolves my dear…and I am no different,” the words spilled from his lips but he made no move to stop. His eyes bore into yours, looking for any sign of doubt before sinking his fangs into you. “Aaahn!!” your voice rang out, loudly, into the night. The freezing rain picking up outside the window, thunder in the distance drowning out your sweet cries from the other residents. Dazai nearly trembled from excitement, moaning into your thigh as your sweet nectar of life spilled onto his tongue, lapping every drop up greedily. The pain was a ghost of a memory, replaced with a pervasive heat that consumed every fiber of your being with an electric pleasure. If you thought you couldn’t form words before, they were lost to you now. The only sounds escaping you were wanton moans, stirring on the man between your legs.

“If you keep on like that I won’t be able to hold back…” his eyes looked pained and you felt a pang of guilt for not noticing it earlier. “Don’t you know how badly I want you?” He puffed air against your wet heat, his gaze following to your glistening folds, already wet for him. He groaned and the lust returned to his stare, but he was holding himself back.

“Dazai—“ you gasped, reaching down to touch one of his hands as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “What if…what if I don’t want you to hold back?” your face was on fire, you could feel your pulse in your temples as you panted softly. “I want this too…I trust you,” your tender expression nearly broke his heart. ‘You don’t know what I would do to you, how could you trust a man who would break you?’ he lamented to himself, beginning to get lost in his own sorrow when you shifted forward, shifting your weight to gently push him back onto the futon, where you could straddle him. “Do you trust me?” you breathed, wanting to reach through and pull that sorrow from him, if only for a little while.

His eyes softened, reaching up to cup your cheek with his large hands. They felt warmer than before. “You’re honest to a fault, Y/n. It makes me want to swallow you whole…” as though your light could shine from inside him. Leaning down, you placed a tentative kiss on his chest, nipping at his collarbone, hearing him gasp beneath you. There was a dangerous glint in his expression as you turned your attention to him. You wanted him to feel you, to feel your heart. “I’m willing to let you,” you trailed down his abdomen, placing lovingly tender kisses until you were kneeling off the futon in front of him. He lifted his head to look down at you, confused by your motive until he felt your warm mouth around him and watched his painfully hard member disappear behind your lips. “Y/N!” his startled exclamation ended in a throaty moan as his head fell back and he became overwhelmed by the sensations you were delivering to him. Had he died a second time? If so, maybe death wasn’t so boring after all.

You hollowed your cheeks, applying the right amount of pressure as you sucked his length, your own juices beginning to drip as you got excited from getting him off. You were thankful for the blanket of rain outside, pelting the window to hide some of the lewd noises that came from your actions. Hands wound their way through your hair, pulling you down onto him, his previous reservations snapped away the moment your wet heat enveloped him. He couldn’t resist you anymore. He didn’t care if you both fell at that moment. He couldn’t get close enough, the pleasure overtaking his senses. You felt the tug at your hair as he pulled you back with a pop as he left your mouth empty and wanting. You shivered from the sudden roughness and he smirked, guiding you down onto the futon again.

“Naughty girl~ Do you want me to lose control?” he breathed, climbing between your legs again, hoisting you up by hooking his arms beneath your knees. “I warned you I would devour you…” he moaned as he flattened his tongue against your dripping heat, making you fall against the bed, arms suddenly too weak to hold your weight anymore. You could tell you had broken the dam on his self-control, the way his tongue skillfully entered you, working his way up to your clit, grazing his fangs against your lowers lips. Your head was swimming, the erotic noises he was making made your sex tighten, begging for more. “Please—“ you begged, but you weren’t entirely sure for what. All you knew was that you wanted more.

“Please?” he echoed, working his middle and index finger into you, pumping and curling them until you saw white, bucking against his hand, not caring what you looked like anymore. “Dazai please!! I need you, please!” Tears were beginning to prick at your eyes and he sat back, sighing with smile spreading across his handsome features. “Beautiful..” he whispered, climbing over your heated body. His lips found your ear again as he nibbled playfully, brushing the tip of his manhood against your clit, slowly. The tears threatened to fall as they blurred your vision, your hips twitched toward him, and you felt empty without him in you. “Dazai—“ you gasped again, feeling frustrated and earning a lighthearted chuckle from the man above you.

“What do you want me to do? I want you to tell me,” his breath was hot against your cheek, his fangs pricking your earlobe and shooting another wave of pleasure as he soothed the love bite with his tongue. You screwed your eyes shut, panting loudly and attempted to reach down to guide him into you when your hands were restrained in his and held above your head with surprising strength. “Ah, ah~” he tsked, applying pressure to your wrist under his grasp. “Look at me,” he commanded. The weight of his words caused your eyes to open again, your eyes wet and face flushed. He teased himself against your sensitive spot again, meaningfully, “Tell me what you want me to do.”

You bit your lower lip, chewing on it while you tried to think of the right way to phrase it so that you could both get what you wanted. “I..I—“ you started, his mouth was trailing along your jaw again, letting his fangs drag across your soft skin without piercing the flesh, encouraging you to say the words he was waiting to hear. “Yes?” he egged you on, slowly rotating his hips to give you a preview of what you were in for.

“Please—I want to feel you inside of me, Dazai..” your submissive admission was all it took and in seconds he buried himself into you, hissing at your tight heat as your head fell back and you arched into him, hard. It stung, but he stayed still, allowing you to adjust before he began to rock with shallow thrusts, panting words of encouragement. “Y/n, you’re so tight,” he murmured against your neck, his tongue and teeth marking a hickey into your skin. You’d have to wear a scarf over the next couple days or a shirt with a high collar to hide his mark from the others. But a part of him wanted them to see it. He was moving slowly, rolling into you with sweet and deliberate motions. You couldn’t help but buck against him, craving a faster pace.

He let go of your wrists, letting you wrap your arms around his neck, digging your nails into his shoulders. For good measure, you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him in closer. He moaned low, shifting to take a perky nipple into his mouth while his fingers played with the other, making a mess of you. “Y/n, you’re such a naughty girl… pulling me close like that, is this not enough?” he chuckled against your breast, delighting in the frustrated groan that came as a response.  “Please, h-harder,” you pleaded. His mind went blank, hearing you plead to him in such a vulnerable way, it snapped his hips forward and his pace quickened, angling you so he could pound you into the futon, hand leaving your nipple to dance circles around your clit.

You all but screamed at the sudden change of pace, as a thin trail of drool escaped your lips and trailed down the side of your mouth. Fingers brushed against the sticky liquid and pushed into your mouth, which you gladly took inside, swirling your tongue and sucking, sending shudders down the man’s spine as his thrusts started to become more erratic. His eyes were positively glowing in the dark room and his hand left your mouth to rest on your throat, applying a light pressure, but enough to send a pleasurable shock through your body. He guided your hands to his own throat, showing you the kind of pressure he wanted you to apply. “Just a little, yeah?” he whispered, groaning when you pressed into his throat tentatively, reaching back down to give you a reward, applying increasing pressure to your clit, watching you struggle to keep your arms up as he pleasured you. His eyes rolled in his skull and you could feel his adam’s apple bob when he swallowed before he grabbed your wrists and thrust them above your head again, burying his fangs into your neck.

Your cry mixed with a hoarse moan as he drank from you, the pleasure sending you over the edge and you quivered as your orgasm ripped through your body, tightly convulsing around him as he reached his own climax, spilling his hot seed into you. It was overwhelming feeling him drink from you as he emptied his cum into your willing body. When he was finished he kissed the wound that was already starting to close, and moved to kiss your nose, still nestled inside of you. Your body was overstimulated and you moaned softly at the movement, earning another chuckle. “Hey..was I too rough with you?” he questioned sheepishly, still basking in the afterglow of your shared orgasm.

You didn’t think he could look anymore handsome than he already did, but the way the sweat clung to his hair and the loving gaze he was giving you right now made your heart melt. “It’s ok, I liked it,” you admitted, knowing that you would be sore tomorrow, but it was well worth it. A mischievous glint shown in his eyes this time, “You know I won’t be able to let you go, right?” he cooed, tracing his fingers along your neck again, paying special attention to the hickies he left behind. “I won’t be able to hold back now that I’ve had a taste of you…you better prepare yourself.”

#usagiwrites #ikemen vampire #fanfiction #fanwork #dazai #smut #shameless smut #osamu dazai #otome #second person pov #fanservice