#i enjoy my me time and being alone and not being bothered

[froggiewrites]

Hello! I was wondering if i could request a Zoro or a Law x gn! or m!reader with angst? They are in a fight and reader kinda ignores them and hides from them and Zoro or Law realize how in love they are with the reader? Can end however you want!

Sorry I've been so slow on requests, writer's block hit me pretty hard this week! I chose Zoro with a gn!reader for this one, it just seemed to fit him pretty well (man is not good with his emotions). I hope you enjoy it!

A Bridge Too Far

Pairing: Zoro x Reader

SFW

Summary: Zoro is terrible at handling his frustrations, and you're tired of being his punching bag. He doesn't realize what he's lost until it's gone. Warnings: Angst, Zoro being a bad boyfriend, not a happy but possibly a hopeful ending? Word Count: 2.3k

Like most of your arguments with Zoro, he started it.

He always starts it, even when he doesn’t want to. When his frustrations start to bubble, he can’t help but lash out at whoever’s closest, and that’s normally you. You’re always there, waiting for him, and you never hold it against him once he calms down. Frankly, they’re less arguments and more one-sided furious rants, as you never rise to the provocation. So he doesn’t think much of it when he snaps at you again after a particularly tough battle, one that left a buzzing under his skin and a strain in his muscles that he couldn’t shake. You wouldn’t mind. You never did.

A few minutes after you follow him to the training room, sitting quietly in the corner while he readies his swords, he finally snaps. “Will you just leave me alone for once? How am I supposed to relax with you trailing after me like this?”

You don’t just sit there and take it like you always do. You don’t just get up and leave, ready to come back when he’s calmer. You stare at him a moment, not radiating fury or indignation, simply…disappointment. Weariness. “Again?”

“What?” He snaps.

“We’re doing this again? Really?” You seem completely composed and calm. It infuriates him more than snapping ever could.

“What do you mean, doing this again? You following me around like a lovesick puppy? Yeah, I guess we are.” He hits the target in front of him harder, sending splintering wood everywhere. The sound of it pierces his brain, rattling around, making him feel even worse.

You sigh, sounding horribly burdened and beaten down. “You know what? Sure. Whatever. I’ll leave you alone, Zoro, if that’s what you want. But this is the last time. I’m not putting up with this anymore.”

He grits his teeth. “Won’t put up with this? Shouldn’t that be my line?”

Your eye twitches, finally a show of emotion, a show that he’s affecting you. “I’m not your punching bag, Zoro. I’m not here for you to use to work off your adrenaline instead of learning to deal with your emotions like an adult. I’m supposed to be someone you care about.” You finally stand, gathering your things and turning to leave. You don’t look back at him as you call, “You’re going to regret this, but I won’t.”

The door slamming echoes through the room, sounding horribly…final.

He ignores it.

It takes a few hours for him to finally wind down, for the buzzing to quiet and leave nothing but a blissful silence. He doesn’t bother cleaning up the wood all over the floor, or taking a shower to rid himself off all of the sweat. He has only one thought: his bed, warm and soft and welcoming. If he’s lucky, you’ll be in it, waiting for him to hold you close and kiss your face, the closest thing he’s ever given to an apology. He eagerly makes his way to the Sunny’s sleeping quarters, opening the door slowly to the cacophony of snores coming from Luffy and Franky, accompanied by Sanji, Chopper, and Usopp’s quiet breathing. Brook is still on deck, on watch for the night, so it makes sense his bunk is empty, but Zoro notices your bed is also suspiciously clear. Even your pillow and blanket are gone, the sheets not even wrinkled, as though no one had ever slept there at all.

A small part of him tells him he should check on you, make sure you’re alright. But a much larger, louder part is crying out for rest, and he cannot help but give in, falling face first onto his mattress without even changing clothes. He’s asleep within seconds.

He’s alone when he wakes up. He doesn’t typically sleep very long, instead napping in short bursts throughout the day, but he can see the light pouring in under the door and he realizes he must have slept at least until noon. He’s shivering, still on top of his blanket. Usually when he falls asleep like this, you throw one of the extras in your locker over him, tucking him in like a child. You must not have come back in at all last night.

He ignores the uncomfortable feeling nipping at him, something he will not name. You’re fine. You’re an adult, and one night away from your bed doesn’t mean anything.

But then you aren’t at lunch.

Sanji is giving him dirty looks, and Nami is giving him the most foul side-eye he’s ever had the displeasure of receiving. The rest of the crew are trying to act normal, but Franky is suspiciously absent and Usopp is so nervous he keeps dropping everything he tries to pick up, ending in him spilling water all over himself and taking the excuse to “take a second to go change” and never come back.

He finally breaks after Sanji brings Nami another drink, takes an obvious glance at him, and they start to whisper to each other. He makes out the words idiot, asshole, and loser (the first two from Nami and the latter from Sanji), before he slams his fork down. “What? What is it?”

Nami turns to him, filled with the sort of righteous fury she only saved for those who dare hurt her friends. “God, Zoro, you don’t even know? What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You’re all acting weird as hell!”

Sanji jumps in. “Because you’re acting like a jerk and have the gall to pretend everything is normal, asshole! What the hell did you say to them yesterday?”

What he said to…oh. That feeling comes back again, and he furiously clamps down on it, replacing it with a significantly more comfortable and familiar indignance. “That’s none of your business, cook.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I think I deserve to know why I had to find them sleeping in the goddamn kitchen this morning, actually.”

In the kitchen? Of course. It’s the one place you knew he would never find you. He never went there other than mealtimes, avoiding the possibility of another stupid fight with Sanji when he wasn’t up for it. “How the hell should I know?”

“Are you still pretending you don’t know it’s your fault? They were bawling their eyes out after leaving the training room.” Nami’s even angrier than Sanji is, and Zoro genuinely thinks she might hit him. The smaller, more tender part of himself, the one he’s ignoring, wouldn’t even blame her.

But that part isn’t in charge today. “My relationship isn’t your goddamn business.”

“Relationship? You seriously think you still have one of those?”

His blood runs cold, but he forces the feeling away, standing up from the table and stalking off. “I don’t have to take this.”

Nami calls after him, “I hope they dump you!”

Sanji cries out soon after. “I hope you fall into the sea, asshole!”

Zoro could go look for you. Should, even. But he instead makes the trek to the crow’s nest, cherishing the quiet, the solitude, the safety of it.

But as he sits in what is usually his sanctuary, he begins to feel that itch beneath his skin. Quiet turns to unbearable silence, solitude turns to loneliness, safety turns to suffocation. He tries to close his eyes, to center himself, take control as he loves to do, but the moment he does he can see nothing but your face. He can almost feel your hands on his back, rubbing soothing circles while your voice gently shushes him. You were so good at that, calming him down right when he needed you. Giving him a patience he simply didn’t deserve.

A patience he had been taking for granted.

What would he do, if another man had made you cry? If someone else had raised their voice at you as he had, time and again?

Part of him tried to justify it. But I don’t mean it, some petulant part of himself cried. They know I don’t mean it.

But do you? And would it matter, anyway? He’s still shouting. You’re still taking it. How long can you perform the same song and dance before it stops being a performance?

He needs to apologize.

He just needs to find you first. You aren’t in the kitchen, though Sanji is, and he doesn’t even speak with him this time, just giving him a mean glare that would send a lesser man running. Zoro hates to admit he deserves it. You aren’t in your bed, and your things are still missing. Not in Chopper’s office. Not in the library. Not in the bathroom, though Robin is, and he has to take a moment to furiously apologize for not knocking while she laughs at him.

He can only think of a few more places to check when he remembers who was missing this morning.

Franky’s workshop is quieter than he’s ever heard it, only filled with the quiet clanking of a small hammer against an even smaller piece of metal. Franky is using his second set of hands to put together some clockwork trinket, a significantly more delicate project that he usually takes on. Zoro is confused only for a moment, then he sees you, eyes intensely watching, and he realizes what’s going on. Franky has taken you in today, chosen something simple and small to distract you, to allow you to participate in some way. He’s always been great at small comforts like this, allowing someone the peace of his presence without worrying about being a burden.

Zoro could learn a lot from him.

Franky clearly knows he’s there, shoulders tensing slightly, but he doesn’t speak, waiting for one of you to take the first step. You don’t seem to notice either, too enraptured by the small metal bird in Franky’s hands, a look of wonder on your face that makes Zoro’s heart skip despite himself.

“Hi.” He cringes the moment he speaks, the peace shattering instantly. Franky doesn’t turn to acknowledge him, but he can practically feel the wince that must be on his face from the lame opener. Your head shoots up like a frightened rabbit, every part of you tense and ready to run. You pull in on yourself, making yourself smaller, like if you’re lucky he might miss you entirely, move on to the next prey. He puts up his hands, the first and only act of surrender he has ever performed, before continuing. “Can we talk? In private?”

You look to Franky, and Zoro doesn’t know what the look you two exchange means, but it makes you get up and approach. You give him a wide berth, not even coming within a foot of him, but you nod at him briefly to indicate he should follow. However small of a gesture it is, you’ve finally acknowledged him. That’s something.

You lead him back down to the training room, still covered in splintered wood and reeking of sweat. He can’t help but notice you didn’t pick a neutral location. You lead him somewhere he feels safe.

You turn to him. “Talk.”

He hesitates a moment, trying not to trip over himself and somehow make this work, but he can see that he’s finally reached the end of your apparently not-quite-infinite patience. “I’m…sorry.” He says the words through gritted teeth, feeling as though they burn his mouth as they leave. He doesn’t like to apologize in words, but in action. In gentle hands, in small acts he could deny later. He doesn’t know why it embarrasses him, to admit he was wrong. He is pretty often. But something about it makes him feel so small, so weak. But he can be small and weak for you, right now. No matter how much it hurts.

Your eyes widen, and you take the smallest step backwards. Shocked by him admitting for once he’s at fault. “You’re…sorry?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

You narrow your eyes at him, searching for some kind of trick, some hidden knife ready to plunge into your back. “For what?”

“For…for what? You know for what.” He winces at how defensive he sounds, at how you start to pull in on yourself again. “Sorry. Um. For yelling at you. For taking my anger out on you when you did nothing wrong. For how I always do that. I…I don’t know why I snap at you. And it’s wrong.”

“Yes, it is.” You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “It isn’t fair of you to keep doing this. I tried letting it slide, because I know you just don’t know how to handle your feelings, that you aren’t coming from a place of malice. But that doesn’t make it okay. And you never stopped.” You turn your back to him, approaching a nearby window, staring out at the sea.

“I’m going to stop now. I swear it.”

“I won’t be with someone who speaks to me like that. I deserve better. You know I deserve better.” You’re trying to play tough, but he can hear the shake in your voice, and he realizes that just like yesterday you’ve only turned around so he can’t see the tears on your lashes.

He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your hair. “You do. I swear I’ll treat you like you deserve. If I ever talk to you like that again, I’ll fall on my own sword.”

“...Swords.”

“Huh?”

“Swords. All three.”

He chuckles despite himself. “Alright. I’ll fall on all three at the same time.”

“Good. …You deserve it.”

“I know.” A silence hangs in the air. “I love you.”

You don’t answer.

You don’t hug him back, and you’re still sniffling, but you let him hold you. That has to be enough for now.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece (if you saw I forgot the taglist when I first posted this no you didn't)

[ashtheketchum]

● Quick ride ●

Daryl Dixon X GN.Reader

Era: Whatever you want

Summary: You and Daryl were on your way to get new resources when you suddenly had a strange desire. And what better way to express it than to touch Daryl?

Warnings: +18 CONTENT, GN.Reader, no smut but touching, teasing, driving motorcycle, please don´t do that kids-

A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't been post something for a long time! I've been very busy and have barely found the time or motivation to write anything! QwQ

Words: 0,7k

Masterlist!

____________________________

PoV (Y/N):

Daryl and I drive through the empty streets of this broken ass world. Rick had asked us to get more food, medicine and other things. And since Daryl and I are responsible for this, we keep driving around. It doesn't really bother me though, I enjoy being alone with Daryl and he seems to like it too. I can't say what the relationship between Daryl and me is like though. We aren't together, but even a blind person can see that we are more than just friends.

There have been a few times where we've exchanged glances, sometimes I've caught him staring at me or the other way around, and sometimes we've touched hands, hips, or faces. Daryl is also looking for a new motorcycle with me so I can ride with him, but I prefer to sit behind him.

So while we're driving, I have my arms loosely wrapped around his waist. I lean my head against his strong back. "Ya comfortable?" I hear him ask. A quiet giggle escapes my throat, but I nod slightly. "Yep… you're warm." At my answer, he just snorts in amusement.

During the entire trip, however, several thoughts were going through my head. Many people in our group had already asked me to take a step, that Daryl definitely had a crush on me. But I never dared, I never saw it in his eyes that he saw something in me. I, on the other hand, think about Daryl 24/7. Both romantically and sexually. How many times have I gone to sleep and ended up touching myself. Just thinking about the past few nights made my insides tingle and my face warm.

Should I try it? I bite my lower lip hard as I slowly let my hand wander to his thigh. At first Daryl doesn't react, but when I slowly stroke his thigh, a quiet grumble escapes him. "Wha' are ya doin'?" He asks me quietly. But I don't react to his question, instead I let my hand slowly wander to his crotch. I apply a little pressure and this time Daryl growls loudly. "(Y/N)…~" God, it turns me on so much when he says my name or growls it. A tingling sensation runs down my back and I feel the hairs on my neck stand up. But since he doesn't smack my hand away or push it away, I just carry on. He can stop his motorcycle and push me away at any time, but he doesn't. Does he like it? Probably, the bulge that formed under my hand is the answer.

"Daryl~…" I whispered his name quietly in his ear, making the bulge in his pants twitch. I slowly start to massage his bulge and press my body against his back. He is now so hard that I can easily wrap my hand around his cock. I massage him like that for a while before I pull my hand back and let my hand slide into his pants. The archer inhales sharply as I wrap my fingers around his shaft and slowly massage it.

The motorcycle rocks a little and Daryl's grip on the handlebars gets tighter and tighter. Loud snorts and growls escape him and his cock twitches again and again. "Eyes on the road, Daryl~…" I purr into his ear. "Dumb… g-god~…" Before Daryl can protest, I squeeze his base a little tighter. I feel his cock pulsing and Daryl's breathing gets faster and faster. Only now do I notice that Daryl is driving slower, probably he doesn't want to risk an accident. Not that it bothers me, I'm just kind of scared of what will happen next if he stops. So I pull my hand out of his pants again. I adjust his pants before my hand is back on his hip. "Drive home~… there we can continue if you want~…" I whisper into his ear.

Daryl growls loudly for a moment before driving faster than ever before. Caught off guard, I press myself tighter against his body and squeeze my eyes shut. Either he wants to get back quickly or he wants to tease me as much as I just did with him.

[mayasaurusss]

hello! could you write some headcanons or a one shot about dating lottie in the wilderness??

For sure sweetie. Here you go, enjoy!

I had like six more pharagraps but Tumblr is a coward and didn't let me save them :'(.

Contains: description of wounds, lots and lots of crying, (not my happiest work).

It was at Randy's party that you and Lottie first shared a kiss. With the taste of beer on her tongue, she approached you, intent on finally telling you how she felt. She found you alone, drinking the remaining alcohol from your cup. It was incredibly hard for her to connect her words, which came out more as a string of closely related words than an actual phrase.

You understood what she meant -sort of- and were the first one to ask her about how she felt. For Lottie kissing you was a delight.

But after the party, neither of you made the effort to sit next to each other on the plane. You needed to win nationals, there was no time for unnecessaries feelings.

You were surprised when instead of being greeted with Seattle's skyline, you felt dirt and sand on your skin and a horrible throbbing pain on your side.

Lottie was the first to greet you when you woke up. "The plane has crashed" she says, and she doesn't even try to sugarcoat it. It's the very first thing you hear waking up in your new life.

Her eyes are distant, fear and horror having left behind numbness. It's like she's not even here.

She will stay at your side all day long, tending at your wound periodically until Misty comes.

When night falls she sleeps soundly near you, cradling your weak body in hers.

Hours later, when Taissa discovers a lake, Lottie is the one to help you move. You are leaning on her and she's so careful to move you as best as she can. She's careful, slow and when no one is near, whispers sweet reassurances to you.

The days pass. Everyone tries their best to survive. You can't do anything besides sitting around and checking on your wound, getting redder and redder until a crust forms on it. Then, with a little patience, you can finally help. Both you and Lottie work on the same stuff. If you're gathering herbs, she is too; if you are taking the place of Mari as a cook, she's the one to hand you ingredients.

As time goes on, you can feel something shifting in Lottie's demeanor. She's numb, silent and spends an awful lot of time with Laura Lee.

Your jealousy takes the better of you, and for a while, you don't talk to Lottie. And she doesn't talk to you either. You're left alone with the presence of the trees on your head, until she is the first one to make a move.

She sits next to you, silent. You can feel something in her changing, killing the sweet Lottie you knew. It's then that she tells you about what's bothering her. She sees things.

Your sweet Lottie sees things. Shadows moving in the dark corners of the room, in the darkness that seeps out of the trees, whispers and voices telling her what to do, how to act. She has visions: of death, of fire and frost, of hunger.

For a while you are terrified of Lottie. You don't mean to, really, but what she said to you that afternoon made you wary of her. Who knows what she could do to appease her voices.

So you drift further apart, further and further until autumn comes. It's clear to all of you that death is close. There's no food and the days are cold. So, in the last attempts to make your life worthy, you threw a party. One of those that you went to before the crash, only with no music and homemade alcohol.

At homecoming, you finally try to open your heart to Lottie once more. It's scary, it's sad, but she allows you into her own. The rest of the night is spent laughing, holding her close to you and waiting for death to come. But it doesn't. You wake up hours later, the dust of the earth in your eyes and the sparks of the fire dying next to you.

You had slept for the entirety of the night, oblivious of what happened. No one is interested enough to tell you, and you will come to know it the day after, when Jackie and Shauna fight. Thinking that they had let their hunger run rampant enough to threaten the lives of their friends scares you, but not as much as you thought. Maybe you wished Travis died. Maybe you could finally satiate your hunger.

After Jackie's death, Lottie grows more deranged. You know that she means no harm, but through her delusions, she managed to hold a tool on the entirety of the group. You attend her prayers in the morning, more to fill that hole in her chest than helping yourself. Or maybe, you too need just a little bit of faith.

There is not one day where Lottie isn't near you. She follows you like her shadows follow her, her eyes always on you. It creeps you out sometimes, but you let her. She will randomly go out in the wilderness and come back with herbs and plants she will boil to make you a cup of tea. It's a small gesture, one that you grow to hold dear.

In return, you bring her all the trinkets you find while helping Natalie and Travis hunt. The girl has grown wary of you, annoyed at how you always have to stop to collect some strange sticks, rocks, shells and remains of animals. She had even begun to scream at you once, but you had to endure and bite your tongue.

She will always wait for you with one of her many beverages. Lottie will never tell you that the reason they are uncharacteristically dark is because she let a few drops of her blood in, in an attempt to shield you from whatever the wilderness had in store for you. Maybe it's an attempt on her part to bring herself with you, to make you feel less lonely in that cold hell.

When you eat Jackie, you find Lottie outside in the snow, clinging to where her heart is. She would want nothing more than to wail right now. Her stomach is filled, and she so wished it wasn't.

You take her and kiss her tears away, but nothing will erase her guilt. Both of you cry, hugging each other while snow falls.

Lottie never does anything out of pure malice. Every little thing she does is for the better good, but she knows she's flawed. Somehow, it seems like everything she does is a burden, making people turn against her.

There are moments of happiness even in the most difficult of situations. Sometimes you will walk in the wilderness, letting the snow cling to your boots and cold air fill your lungs. The forest is silent, but you're okay with that. There isn't any need to talk. There's just you and her, embracing each other's company.

You will never forgive yourself for not intervening when Shauna attacks Lottie. You're just too out of it. All you can see is a blur of figures moving, red spilling from them. When you understand that it's Lottie's blood, finally you understand what is happening.

Worry and horror fills you as you fall to the floor, checking Lottie.

Her flesh is red and puffy, blood seeps from cuts near her eyes and brows, flows down her nose and stains her clothes. She doesn't respond to your cries.

You nurse her back to health, regularly checking on her with Misty. Cleaning her wounds, helping her bathe and clothe her as best as you can. Sometimes she'll mumble through her fever, words coming out jagged. She asks you to not let her body go to waste, to eat her if she dies. The mere thought of that makes your skin crawl. You try to reason with her but it's no use, she needs to hear it. So you accept.

The first thing Lottie does when seeing you after waking up is cry. She's not happy to be alive. Maybe she wished for you to consume her so she could finally be at peace, away from this place. But that does not happen. That night, you don't let her go back. As much as she could protest, you don't want to share her to the others yet.

"I am sorry". She doesn't tell you why, but deep down you know the reason. You hug her close, hiding your face onto her neck, "Please...never say anything like that ever again". She falls silent. It takes a moment for her to actually feel the desperation and sadness grow in her heart, but when it does, it breaks her. She almost falls in your arms, hands shaking and tears stinging at her flesh. She wails, like a hurt animal. You embrace her and cry, mourn with her. Words don't come easy, but as you spell them, a small hope flickers in your chest.

"I promise to you, everything will be okay"

[internal-bleating]

Was supposed to go and see my grandparents and also my dad's cousin's mom today but stuff fell through and we didn't go....

We did go to the mall though and I talked to like five or six strangers! That's a new record for me in terms of socializing!!! I managed to confidently strike up a conversation with five different people! I'm definitly proud of myself! I usually hardcore struggle to even talk to one person, and then I perceverate over everything I could've possibly done wrong afterwards but this time I interacted with people several different times and in different parts of the mall!

[curiosityjams]

*

[blackidyll]

world silver medalists skating to james bond medleys: an odd but great intersection of my fandoms

[mojaves]

genuinely do not know how i used to live like this every day everything is giving me anxiety and i feel like im going to cry whJHKGKHFG

[urbanfiltered]

AAAAAA

[redtippedcanines]

i got a hot water bottle and another pillow ^^

[yeahlikethebird]

.

[veritasangel]

Keep me close

ft. Simon Riley pt.2 here

⋆ ˚｡⋆ fem pov ୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw content {mdni} ↣ piv, oral (reader giving), cum eating, fingering, cheating? not really (reader is price's wife but it's agreed upon)

↣ John doesn't mind sharing you with one of his best...probably gonna do a part 2 to this or maybe a series?? (@shkretart is the artist for the simon and price art)

wc: 4.3k

Simon never enjoyed breaks. His body did, sure, but not his mind. Too much time to think about everything, the pain, the bloodshed he’s drowning in. Johnny would go home to see family, Price would head home to his wife and even Gaz had a partner to return to.

They’d all discreetly offered for Simon to join, but he wasn’t one for pity so it always ended with a mumbled, “God no, I’m perfectly fine with my own company, thanks.”

And he thought he was, had convinced himself that was true, but it wasn’t and subconsciously he knew that too. Every night ended with one too many drinks and an almost drunken call to one of the boys, asking one of them to take him in.

It was a few weekends later before he eventually gathered the courage to call Price.

The phone rang once, twice...fuck, maybe he should hang up.

“Hello?”

The voice not being Price's caught him off guard momentarily, of course his wife is the one to pick it up.

“Hello? Can you hear me? Simon?”

“Hi, I- Sorry to bother you Mrs Price...Is John there?" he says a little apprehensively.

“Always so formal.” you joke. “I’ll go get him.”

You make your way through the house, before approaching John in the kitchen and mouthing

'It’s Simon…sounds sad.' you frown a little as you hand the phone to your husband.

“Simon? Is everything alright?” John says as he finishes up what he'd been doing in the kitchen.

“Yeah, jus’ checking in….” he trails off, “You uh, you see the football last night?”

“Yeah, was shit.” John says, ignoring the look you're giving him.

“Yeah….”

You glare at Price to say something more substantial.

He clears his throat, “What did you really wanna talk about?”

A beat of silence.

“...I was maybe wondering if that spare bedroom offer was still available.”

“ ‘Course it is, Si. I’m offended you even have to ask.” Price sighs, shaking his head before adding, “You want a roast tonight?”

Simon lets out a small genuine laugh, “I’ll never say no to your wife’s cooking.”

“Then come over. How long you planning on staying?”

“However, long you’ll have me.” Simon mumbles.

“In that case, may as well pack a suitcase and pick a colour swatch.” Price says, half joking. 

You know he’d honestly let Simon move in if he wanted to, he was basically family and even you adored him, dark humour and stoic mask included.

As expected by Simon, the next few days flew by, as opposed to when he was alone and just trying to get by.

Waking up every morning to a nice breakfast and good company did a lot of good for him. Every now and then he had to remind himself that you were a taken woman.

“Simon!” you beam happily, “I see you’re back from your run.” you smile softly, “I went to the market earlier today so there’s some fresh fruit in the kitchen.”

“Ah, thanks doll, you’re too sweet.” Simon smiles, eyes flittering across the hall before lingering a little too long on your sundress.

God, maybe Soap was right, I do need a partner. Is this how life would be?

He shut his thoughts off, mumbling pleasantries before heading upstairs for a shower.

He also had to control his thoughts when John came up to him one afternoon stating that he had to handle something with family so he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

Christ, he trusted him enough to leave him alone with his wife, the woman he keeps wrongfully fantasising about. Oh how he felt like an awful person.

But he refrained, kept reminding himself that he was a trained soldier. He wouldn’t give into such desires, let alone betray someone he calls family.

And so the rest of the day continued as normal, as did dinner.

Simon retired to the living room for the rest of the night, watching TV. Some time later you joined him, sitting maybe a little closer than usual but he brushed it off, only for you to then extend your legs onto his lap and he had to inhale a sharp breath to keep his cool.

His heart raced, and his hand twitched, eyes darting to the smooth skin of your legs resting way too close to his groin. “You alright there, love?” he asks.

“Mhm.” you nod and he can't tell if it's his imagination that he can see his own desire reflected in your eyes.

He couldn't hide the need in his own eyes either. They flickered with want, need. Simon shifted ever so slightly, trying to get comfortable. It was a lost cause, though, his cock had already hardened, the fabric of his pants hardly concealing it.

With great effort, he managed to restrain himself. He had to, after all, he was Price's friend and you were his wife.

“Have you checked your phone this evening?” you ask tenderly as you tilt your head at him.

“No...Why?” He asks curiously, hands already reaching for his phone, seeing a few messages from Price.

2 messages - Cap'n Figured you might need to let loose a little, maybe have someone take care of you for once....if you catch my drift. Oh but for the love of everything, please wrap it!! I don't think I'd ever live down the embarrassment if you got my missus pregnant before I did.

His heart skipped a beat as he read the message.

Smirking, he turned to look at you with a newfound light in his eyes. 'So that's how it was, huh?' Simon thought, his mind whirling. He knew Price well enough to know he'd planned this with you and he couldn't deny that he felt a surge of lust as a result.

"Well, well," Simon uttered. "Looks like Price gave us his blessing." his hand finally reaching out and brushing against your leg, before resting it there, chuckling at the goosebumps that ghosted your skin.

“So you guys planned this, huh? Don’t know whether to feel awkward or take the opportunity with no regrets?” He jokes, chuckling a little.

“It’s not a pity thing, jus’ wanna take care of you too.” you say softly as your eyes meet his.

“Surprised the fucker didn’t want to watch.”

“Oh he did.” you laugh softly, “He just didn’t know how into it you’d be.”

“...Maybe we’ll have to see for next time.” he winks.

"Next time? Getting a bit carried away, aren't we?" you quip.

Simon's palm grazed over your knee, tracing upwards as he leaned closer to you, the air between the two of you thickening with desire. "How do you plan on taking care of me, hmm?" He questioned, his voice low and seductive.

You grinned as you looked at him, your hand sliding up his thigh, stopping just before his crotch. "Well, I have an idea or two," you tilted your head at him, "but I need to know if you're game."

Your finger trailed along the outline of his erection, feeling the throbbing heat underneath the fabric, causing Simon to let out a sharp breath.

After getting the green light from Price, it was as though his brain had shut down, just allowing him to indulge in the moment. "I'm game," he answered, his voice husky, dripping with want. His hand moved on top of yours, guiding it towards his bulge.

"Good," you whispered, moving in as your lips hovered above his. He leaned in and you moved back slightly, just enough so that your lips wouldn't touch.

He chuckles darkly before grabbing your chin and forcing you to keep your gaze on him, "I thought you said you wanted to take care of me, hun." he says, "Don't be a tease." he warns

Simon's resolve wavered for a moment as your lips hung tantalisingly close to his. The game was almost too much to bear. But he wanted you badly, and that want became a demand. "Take care of me," he repeated, his voice gentler this time, pleading almost.

His heart raced as he felt your soft lips against his. The kiss was gentle and tender. As your tongue sought entry, he opened his mouth to allow it in, his own tongue dancing with yours, yielding to your lead. 

His breath hitched as you nibbled on his lower lip. The sensation went straight to his cock, making him shuffle in his seat. A low moan escaped from his lips as he deepened the kiss, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer.

The feeling of your palm against his erection through his clothing was almost too much to bear. Simon's grip on you tightened, and he groaned into the kiss. He wanted you, his cock throbbed desperately with need.

It wasn't long before Simon found himself getting carried away. His hand gripped your hip, tugging you closer, grinding his hard-on against your hand, eager for anything that could bring him closer to release.

Simon's body responded to every touch, a soft hiss escaping his throat as your tongue trailed along his jaw. His grip on you turned possessive as you moved down to kiss his neck. He gasped, and his cock twitched, desperate for your attention.

Simon's mind was a blur of lust, and all he could think of was you, your touch. He needed more, and he knew he'd crave you even more once this night was over. Price might just have to share you more often.

His head fell back, giving you full access to his now sensitive flesh, begging for more. His cock was aching so badly and he could feel the precum coating it. He felt as though he was losing control and he wanted nothing more than to feel you enveloping him.

You pull back for a moment as you tug the waistband of his sweatpants down.

His eyes flickered open, catching sight of your intent before he closed them again, basking in the feeling. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the waistband of his sweatpants being tugged down. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, pre-cum glistening at the tip. It was thicker than John’s and the poor tip just so looked so worked up.

His breath hitched as he felt your warm, soft hand envelop his shaft. His eyes snapped open, meeting yours for a brief moment before closing once more. "God, thank you…” he murmured, his voice thick with arousal.

“I’m not God.”

A soft chuckle escaped from Simon's lips. "Fuck off." He replied, his face flushed. As you continued to stroke him, he leaned back and closed his eyes, fully submitting to your touch.

You smirk as you lean down so you're eye level with his cock, your hand still running up his shaft, brushing the pre over the tip as you lightly blew on it.

A soft moan escaped Simon's lips as you blew on his engorged tip, sending chills coursing through him. His breath hitched, his grip on his chair tightening as his knuckles turned white. "Fuck," he cursed, his head falling back once more.

He wanted more. He wanted to know what it was like to be yours, if only for a moment.

"Please...fuck, please." Simon pleads.

Your attentions had Simon close to begging, and he was hardly the kind of man to do so. Yet, here he was, desperate for your touch, needing you to take him over the edge. His hips bucked subtly, silently asking for more, demanding that you give him what he craved.

His mind raced, thinking about all the ways you could pleasure him. He wanted it all, and he needed it now. Simon liked to believe he was always in control, but right now he wasn’t so sure.

You laugh a little before kissing along his shaft, relishing in the sight of a prominent vein twitching on the underside of his cock.

Simon shivered under your touch, feeling the heat of your lips against his sensitive skin. He bit his lip, an almost inaudible whimper escaping his throat.

This was different, unlike anything he had ever experienced. He felt vulnerable to you, but he didn’t quite mind.

He had to bite his hand to stop him from shooting his cum all over your face when you'd barely even touched him. Fuck it was embarrassing, a grown man acting like a virgin over a few gentle kisses to his cock.

“Please, just– Just let me have you-”

His mind painted vivid pictures of the two of you entangled and sweaty. He wanted to give you the same pleasure you gave him. “Need to fuck you, I can’t fucking last right now.” he babbled.

Simon tried to keep his composure, but the fire inside him raged, threatening to consume him. "I need to be inside you," he panted, his body quivering. "Pleasepleaseplease... I can't- fuck, last like this."

He wasn't a man to beg, especially not for something like this, but he was helpless. Your touch had left him feeling desperate.

You looked at him as you licked along his shaft before finally taking him into your mouth. Simon's eyes widened as you took him into your mouth. His entire world focused on the incredible sensation. His entire body tensed up as your mouth worked him over.

"Fuck..." he moaned, a sheen of sweat across his face, cheeks flushed. His hips bucking slightly, yearning for more. It was almost hard to forget the man was a hardened soldier.

Each bob of your head brought him closer to his release. His moans grew louder, his movements becoming more shaky. He felt needy, desperate, even.

“Can’t cum before I’ve fucked you...” he groans. "...Need to feel you around me," Simon stammered, his voice strained. The need to feel your warmth envelop him was an intense desire. He needed to be completely consumed by you.

Yet, as you continued to focus on his cock, it seemed he was fighting a losing battle. Every trail of your tongue, your lips, your breath, brought him closer to the edge. He bit the inside of his cheek in a futile attempt to quieten himself.

His body tensed as he struggled to maintain control, his restraint quickly depleting. His mind raced as he tried to steady himself and appreciate the moment as best he could.

Simon was fully aware of what was happening, but it was like his body was betraying him, surrendering to the pleasure your mouth provided. His grip on the sofa tightened once again and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

The room seemed to fade away, all that existed was the direct connection between his aching cock and your skilled mouth. He was spiralling towards an inevitable conclusion.

Simon's eyes clenched tight, his body tensing as he felt the familiar build-up within him. "God-" he groaned, the sound strained and desperate. He knew he was nearing his limit, the end of his restraint.

A wave of pleasure hit him that he was powerless to resist. With a loud grunt, he let go, his cock twitching as he came, ropes of cum shooting into your waiting mouth.

Pulling away, you smiled as you looked up at him. A shudder ran through Simon's body as he came, groaning in pleasure as his hand intertwined with your free one. He stared down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tried to catch his breath. He smiled weakly, a look of gratitude and appreciation in his lidded eyes.

You had given him a pleasure he never imagined possible, and he would cherish this moment.

Simon's eyes widened at the sensation of your hand returning to work on his sensitive cock. The aftershocks of his orgasm still lingered, leaving him feeling raw and needy.

He groaned, hand moving to grip your wrist as if you were the only t thing able to keep him grounded. He mumbled something incoherent, not even sure what he wanted to say with his mind racing.

Your touch was addictive, and he needed more.

“You wanted to fuck me, didn’t you?” you tease

Simon's breath hitched at your question, his eyes locking with yours. "God, yes." He confessed, the intensity in his gaze unmistakable.

A slow grin spread across his lips as his cock began to harden again. He stood up, pulling you to stand with him as his lips crashed against yours.

He was too caught up to fully undress himself or you for that matter. The kiss deepened and intensified as he pressed you up against the wall, the same wall adorned with photos of you and your husband. Your hands tangled in his hair as his free hand reached up your dress, tugging your underwear down until they pooled at your ankles. The urgency with which he did this was testament to how much he needed you.

You hand fumbled with the unit beside the two of you as you kissed. your hand roaming around the draw before reaching a condom and passing it to Simon who held onto it with one hand.

You deepened the kiss, the two of you practically breathing one another in as his fingers slid between your legs, probing your entrance, his touch both urgent and gentle. When he slipped his middle and ring finger inside, the sound was loud enough to have him grinning into the kiss.

He pulled back slightly, "You’re soaked doll," he breathed, his fingers coated in your wetness. He was aching to fill you, to take you.

"Well, I guess you don’t even need prepping," he drawled as his other hand wandered your body lovingly, despite the heat of the moment. He turned you around, your front against the wall as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your earlobe.

"Tell me you want it.” he said, the words a mixture of question and plea.

"I want this," you confirmed, your voice breathy. The vulnerability in your tone only served to heighten Simon's arousal.

He gritted his teeth, his breathing heavy as he pushed himself into you, slow at first, letting you adjust to his girth. Once fully sheathed, he held you close, his hands roaming your back before coming to rest on your hips.

His eyes closed, a low groan escaping him, "You feel amazing," he muttered as he rested his head on the back of your neck, pausing for a moment to gather himself.

Then slowly he began to move, thrusting in and out of you, setting a rhythm that built with each push. The intensity of the moment drove him wild.

The way you fit around him, the way your walls gripped his cock, it was heaven, and he wanted more. Your moans spurred him on and in this moment everything faded away for Simon. All that existed was the two of you, lost in each other.

Simon's breathing grew heavier, his thrusts becoming wilder, each one an attempt to bury himself deeper within you, to become one with you. The ferocity of his movements belied the tenderness with which he held you, as if you were a precious treasure.

“Fuck, feels like you were made for me.” he groans, “Price’ll have to watch I don’t steal you for myself.”

He chuckles as you clench around him, "You like that thought, hm?" he teases, hand taking both of your wrists in his as he held them behind your back, forcing you to rely on your tiptoes to keep you up against the wall.

His words were laced with a mix of possessiveness and adoration.He wanted to show you the affection and love you deserved, wanted to take care of you and you weren't even his. Simultaneously, he needed you to satisfy the fire within him, the passionate beast that roared to life in your presence.

In that heated embrace, Simon forgot who he was, drowning in the sheer pleasure of being with you. His thoughts blurred, and all that remained was the hunger for you.

Between thrusts, Simon teased, "He's a lucky bastard having you, ain't he? In your pretty little dresses, making his breakfast, cleaning his clothes. Such a good girl for him."

It was a mix of jealousy and admiration. He wanted to claim you for himself, to have you wait on him like that. But he was more than happy to indulge in however much or little you or John allowed him.

As his pace increased, each thrust became more fervent than the last. His thoughts were a jumble of desire. In this moment, the lines between fantasy and reality blurred, and Simon clung to this dream, hoping it would last.

He was lost in the rhythm, in the way you fit around him, in the way you responded to his every touch, in every soft sound that escaped you. There was no going back, no escape, as Simon dove headfirst into the abyss of pleasure that was you.

"He's putting a lot of faith in this condom, hell he's trusting me not to fill you up." Simon whispered in your ear, the words laden with desire. He would never actually commit to that fantasy, but he could dream.

If anything, it fuelled the fire, the knowledge that Price was trusting him to be this intimate with you. His thrusts grew more furious, each one driving him closer.

The moment was electric, and Simon found himself living for each sensation. He was chasing the edge, the precipice where pleasure surrendered to ecstasy. His hips moved with abandon, every muscle tensed, as he sought the ultimate release.

"You're mine tonight," he growled, his words filled with intent. He wanted to etch this memory in your mind, one that would leave you longing for more.

He was determined to leave an enduring mark on your soul. It was a need that had taken hold of him, and there was no going back now.

As the intensity of the moment grew, Simon could feel the pressure building within him. His thrusts grew wilder, more desperate, as he sought the release that awaited. He could sense it, feel it, just beyond his grasp.

His movements became erratic, his body trembling underneath the weight of unrelenting pleasure. A sheen of sweat coated his skin.

His grip on you tightened, holding you as he rode the wave of impending release. "Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice thick with need.

He was at the brink of release, a long awaited one that wasn’t a result of his own hand for once. The anticipation and hunger, all leading up to this moment. 

The world around you two dissolved. It was just the two of you, caught in a symphony of lust and pleasure. Their hearts raced in unison, the rhythm of your bodies synchronised. There were no inhibitions, no boundaries, only the ever-mounting tide of ecstasy.

His body tensed, every muscle straining as the climax built. One final thrust sent him over the edge, and he released, his cum filling the condom. His free hand worked over your sensitive clit, willing you to follow behind as you cried his name, gushing around his cock.

The release was explosive, the tension that had been building between you both, finally released. He leaned in, resting against you as he lowered your wrists, arms encircling your front as he clung to you. It was a moment neither would forget, one he would think about for a long time.

The aftershocks of his orgasm rippled through him, his body still connected to yours. He held you close, as if he were afraid to let go.

"That was... something else," Simon managed to mumble, the words breaking through the haze of post-orgasmic euphoria that washed over him. A satisfied grin spread across his face, the look in his eyes a mix of contentment and pride.

He had claimed you in a way he never thought he could, and it was exhilarating. Slowly, he began to pull out, but his hands lingered on you, as if drawn to the warmth of your body.

Despite the quick encounter, Simon knew he had found something that he wanted to explore further. For now, however, he was content to simply bask in the afterglow. He exhaled a deep breath as he pulled out from you.

You took a deep breath, the action drawing Simon's gaze. As you turned around, he watched you lean against the wall, your eyes meeting his. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you.

Simon's heartbeat slowed, but his chest still rose and fell rapidly. He stared at you, trying to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. This encounter had changed something between you, there was no doubt about it.

"He's a lucky man." he says resting his forehead on yours.

You let out a small laugh as you brush some hair out of Simon's face.

"And I'm lucky to be married to him."

Simon smiles as he reaches down, pulling your panties back up, along with his sweatpants."I'll have to call him in a bit to say my thanks." he quips, "Buttt, he's not gonna be back until late tomorrow and I wanna' experience fully what it'd be like to be yours." He smirks down at you, his lips hovering dangerously above yours, "You know, if you're game."

༄ cod m.list ༄ reblogs are appreciated if you like it.

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[bellatrixscurls]

exquisite weather today, no? | part i

warnings : smut, dom anthony and sub reader, pet names, fluff, ben and colin being little shits, reader is kind of naive given the action takes places sometime in the 1810s.

summary : anthony does not want to corrupt his innocent little wife... but what happens when his brothers lend him a helping hand?

a/n: please enjoy part one of my new series until i am done with the james and sirius fic, thank you! <3

“You are telling me that you have not slept in that way with your wife?” Benedict stops in their way down the halls, looking very much concerned. Anthony hums, checking his clock.

“But you’ve been married for almost a year now!” the younger brother exclaims, looking up at the viscount with a frown.

Anthony smirks and looks at his brother from the corner of his eye. “Not that it is any of your concern, but we do things. Together. Alone” his lie is obvious, but still, he leaves Benedict stunned in the middle of the hallway.

When he finally realises that the maids are looking at him funny, Benedict clears his throat and offers them a polite nod, before following Anthony into the drawing room.

Ah, here you are — sitting next to Colin on one of the sofas. With Anthony distracted, speaking to Daphne about the ‘Hearts and Flowers’ ball, he approaches you carefully, sitting beside Colin.

“Exquisite weather today, isn’t it?” he gives you a nod and you mirror his action, smiling, “Indeed it is, Ben.”

Colin looks between the two of you, back and forth, a confused smile gracing his lips. “This is not about the weather, is it?” he whispers through gritted teeth.

Benedict’s smile turns into a grin when the words leave his brother’s mouth. “I am, in fact, glad that you asked, Colin!” he says happily, “I came here because I need some... advice, from Y/n.”

Raising your eyebrows, you look at him in curiosity, “and what could someone such as yourself need advice for?”

Benedict thinks about it for a moment; should he say it? He means no harm but... a little fun won’t hurt... will it?

“Sex” the words leave his mouth and Colin chokes on his tea, eyes wide as he looks back at Benedict. ‘Are you mad?’ he mouths to his brother, but the second-born chooses to ignore him and look back at you. “So. Y/n?”

Benedict finds you looking up at him with wide eyes, lips pursed as you tried to search for that word in your mind, but with no results. “I’m not quite sure what you mean, Ben.”

This time, it is Colin looking back at you, a deep frown settling on his face. “Pardon? Anthony is your husband, there is no such thing as not knowing what sex is.. Does he refer to it differently?”

“You know... when you’re alone, naked, and he towers over you. That thing he puts in between your legs” Benedict quips, already very much content of where Colin has taken the conversation.

“He towers over me?”

The two burst out laughing at your cluelessness and, from the other side of the large room, Anthony’s brows furrow in concern.

“His cock, sweetness. What he has between his legs. I’m sure he spoils the crap out of you with it every night” Benedict taunts and Colin laughs breathily, adding on “or maybe he does not, brother. Seeing that Anthony is so busy all the time. He has more important things to take care of, I suppose.”

At this point, your eyes are teary and your hands are shaking as you listen to your brothers-in-law tease you endlessly. You are not aware of the meaning behind it, though.

In a moment, you feel a hand wrap around your waist and pull you up against the warmth of someone’s body; Anthony. As you look up at him, his heart shatters and his jaw clenches. “I do not know what you did, but be sure that I will find out. And when I do, I hope you will be taking a walk far away from here. More walks.”

And with that, he takes you away from his brothers and rest of the family, not bothering to excuse himself or you, his face red with hatred. He doesn’t know what his brothers told you, but he is positive that it managed to hurt you... And Anthony cannot bare seeing you hurt.

His hand grips yours tightly, in a possessive manner, not hurting you. He is always gentle with you, no matter the circumstances.

Once you reach the wooden door, Anthony ushers you into the bedroom with a hand at the small of your back, following closely behind before he closes the door.

“What did they tell you, my love?” his tone is alarmed and so are his hands, twitching at his sides.

When your eyes finally meet his, they are still filled with tears, sadness pulling at your heart. “Am I a burden to you? Am I- not pretty enough?”

Anthony’s heart breaks and he realises that he’s never seen you so sad before, not even when you were merely a couple and you had family issues.

“Angel, you have to tell me what it is that they told you. I need to know” he repeats through gritted teeth, ready to walk down those stairs and strangle Benedict and Colin.

“Sex” you repeat Benedict’s words unsurely, glancing up at Anthony. “Told me you are too busy for that. And I- you have never told me of that.”

At this point, his hands fly to your waist and he positions you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your lower body as he turns you to face him entirely. “My darling- They told you that? I-” he seems at a loss for words, and finally, his lips fall into a straight line and he lets go of your hand for a second, walking away from you, and to the floor mirror in his room. You pout as you lose his warmth, and your brows furrow when you notice him pulling the mirror towards you.

He takes his hand in yours and he helps you to your feet, your bottom lip wobbling when you catch sight of your teary eyes, but Anthony notices immediately, and his hands move to hug you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You are so beautiful” he says softly, placing a kiss on the side of your neck, nosing at your skin as he continues speaking, “Undress for me, my love.”

Breathing having picked up, your eyes widen anxiously as your hands find his. “Anthony-” “I want to show you how good I can make you feel. Trust me. Please” he pleads, his eyes looking helplessly into yours. You give a curt nod, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

Your shaky hands move to undress yourself and Anthony helps peel off your dress and chemise, leaving you bare and vulnerable before him.

Anthony lets out one of the most obscene sounds when he presses his clothed body to your bare one, and you can feel his erection pressing into your backside, not that you are aware of what that is. Yet.

“Your hand. Move it down your body” he commands rather softly, watching you through the mirror. Your cheeks heat up but you obey nonetheless, your left hand stopping right above your lower stomach, “Lower. Touch your pussy for me, sweetheart.”

“Alright” you take a deep breath, your hand sliding further down your body, resting at your cunt, your warm touch making you shiver. “Feels odd” you whine, eyes pleading as you find his eyes through the mirror.

He bites his lip, his eyes closing for a moment before he is able to look at you again. “It shall feel good in just a moment... Can- Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes, please” you whisper and his hand instantly reaches to your cunt, using both of his hands to spread you open, your folds damp and spread out for him. “S’pretty” you say absentmindedly, dreamily staring at yourself in the mirror.

“Yes it is” he hums, grinning widely against your shoulder. His middle finger taps your clit twice, and he smirks as your body jolts up. “See this, darling? It’s your clit, your little button... You can rub it whenever you wish to feel good.”

“Whenever I wish?” you ask, your eyes wide with curiosity.

“Yes, sweetness” he hums, his cock hardening at the thought of you wanting to touch yourself, let alone to the thought of him. “And if you want it to feel even better, you must-” with your hole dripping wet, Anthony manages to slip a digit right inside of you, causing you to gasp in both slight pain and excitement. He is finally giving it to you.

“Anthony- what is this?” you ask curiously, Anthony’s finger still inside of you, leaving you to adjust to the sudden intrusion.

“Bit of stimulation before I can give you my cock, bunny. Or, as my dear brothers wish to call it, have sex” he chuckles lowly and starts pumping his finger into you, your fragile body shaking, your knees ready to give out, but you know that he is here to catch you.

“Great” you reply breathily, one of your hands slipping into his.

“You must relax, my love” he tuts, moving his finger in and out slowly, the feeling leaving you bucking your hips into his hand, eyes rolling back. “Let them enjoy the show” he eyes you intently through the mirror.

You look at him rather confused, but his other hand moves to cup your jaw and gently turn your head to the side, towards the door.

A door cracked open. Benedict and Colin.

[dancingbirdie]

Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him. 

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.” 

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire. 

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way. 

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought. 

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously. 

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering. 

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought. 

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly. 

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence. 

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.” 

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it. 

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt. 

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him. 

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?” 

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder. 

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished. 

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.” 

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror. 

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed. 

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering. 

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed. 

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot. 

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes. 

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination. 

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master. 

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp. 

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain. 

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion. 

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling. 

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face. 

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand. 

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water. 

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand. 

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty. 

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off. 

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze. 

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try. 

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad. 

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her. 

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question. 

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well. 

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly. 

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her. 

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees. 

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far. 

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed. 

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind. 

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years. 

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare. 

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted. 

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight. 

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady. 

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.” 

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on. 

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession. 

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment. 

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face. 

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest. 

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly. 

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.” 

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much. 

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy. 

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her. 

She held his gaze, speechless. 

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation. 

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone. 

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him. 

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded. 

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.   

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer. 

“This… this is nice,” he whispered. 

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response. 

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next. 

[fireinmoonshot]

hit the jackpot | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: When you text your boyfriend for help after someone makes you and your friends uncomfortable at the bar, Tyler is quick to make sure you're okay. Warnings: Mentions of a guy being creepy, references to alcohol and unsafe driving Word Count: 1.2k A/N: Just a short one! I am gonna start working on a longer one hopefully tomorrow, but I just wrote this one tonight after I had the idea and so here it is! I love this Tyler so much. Enjoy! 💗

Tyler was sitting in front of his computer, going through some of the footage they’d gotten today to start editing it for a video on Youtube when his phone buzzed. Usually he’d ignore it so late at night, especially because he was working, but not tonight.

You were out with your friends, celebrating one of their birthday’s at a bar a few blocks from the house you shared with Tyler. He’d wanted to come along, but no one else was bringing a partner so, regretfully, he’d agreed to stay home – but just one text and he’d be there, either to be the designated driver for you and your friends or any other reason.

He figured, from the time of evening, it would be a text asking him to come and pick you and your friends up, but the second he read the message, his computer was forgotten in front of him and he was standing up and heading to the door before he even finished reading.

There’s some guy here being creepy. Can you come by?

With one hand, he typed out a quick On my way and with the other, he grabbed his car keys. He locked the door behind him, not bothering about grabbing a jacket despite the chill in the air, and jogged the few steps to his truck, parked in the driveway. 

Tyler was a safe driver, but that night he drove a little over the speed limit – knowing he shouldn’t but being much more worried about you to care too much – to get to the bar quicker. He pulled up right out the front and was quick to throw the truck in park and jump out, shoving his keys in the pocket of his jeans as he headed towards the door.

It looked busy, people spilling out of the bar onto the street, but Tyler didn’t let that phase him. He pushed through the crowd with ease, his height and the way he held himself almost making the crowd part for him. He paused briefly once he was inside, looking around for you and your friends, and when he spotted you, he didn’t hesitate.

You spotted him getting closer towards you and let out a breath of relief. “Ty, that was so quick,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist as he reached you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Would have been here quicker if I could’ve been, darlin’,” Tyler replied. “Now, where is this creep and what has he been doing?” He gave a quick greeting to your friends, who were standing in a circle, glancing nervously back over their shoulders. 

“He’s the one in the brown shirt with the black hair, just there,” you point the man out, trying to be as discreet as possible, not wanting to pull attention to yourself even though you know that nothing is gonna happen now that Tyler is here. “He just won’t leave us alone. We’ve all told him we’re not interested but he won’t take no for an answer.”

You wondered, briefly, if he had actually moved away from you all, as he was stood talking to another person a few people away from you, but then he glanced back and met your eyes and you could see the interest spark on his face again. 

Tyler didn’t let the man get very close. He hated to let you go, but he knew you were safe behind him as he moved to put himself between your friends and the man so he couldn’t get any closer to them. 

“Hey, ‘scuse me, man, just trying to get past.” The man tried to side-step past Tyler, but he was quick, moving to stand in his way again. 

“I think you should leave,” Tyler said.

The man stopped and raised his eyebrows before letting out a laugh. “Who are you to say that to me, man? I’m just trying to have a nice night and talk to some nice ladies, and I’ve been talking to some just over there all night.” He moved, trying to step around Tyler again.

Tyler moved in his path again. “You listen to me,” he started. “Those ladies want nothing to do with you. I’m not a violent man, but if you try and get past me to get to them one more time, I can’t promise you I won’t become one. So, I am telling you to get the hell outta here.”

You watched for a few moments as the man stared Tyler down, worrying that he was going to take a swing at your boyfriend and create drama. The last thing you wanted was for Tyler to get hurt tonight. The night had already taken a turn for the worst. 

“You need me to tell you again?” Tyler said in response to the silence.

The man scoffed, threw his hands up in the air and turned on his heel, walking out of the bar. You all watched him as he left, letting out a breath of relief when you saw him leave. 

Tyler was quick to come back over to you, wrapping an arm around you again and gently rubbing your arm in an attempt to soothe you. He could tell you were feeling tense – and for good reason. That man was a prick and Tyler was mad he wasn’t here to get rid of him before he made you and your friends so uncomfortable.

“Thank you, Ty,” you leant into his side, giving him a squeeze. 

“No need to thank me, darlin’, protecting you and your friends is my job.” He pressed another kiss to the top of your head. 

Your friends all thanked him as well, relaxing a bit now that the man was gone.

“That’s not the end to the night I was hoping for,” one of your friends said.

“I know,” you pouted. “I was hoping we’d get another hour or two at least.”

Tyler looked down at you. “Who says your night has to end? You can all come back to ours, y’know,” he suggested. “We have drinks and food. Pretty sure my girl has some stuff in the fridge to whip up a quick cheese board. What do you say?”

All of your friends looked to you, hope in their eyes. 

“Ty, are you sure? I know you have some work you need to get done.” 

“Course I’m sure, darlin’. I don’t think your night should be ruined by an asshole like that, and I know how excited you were to spend so much time with your friends. I can just drive them all home when you’re done.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you leant up to press your lips to Tyler’s. He smiled into the kiss as he kissed you back. 

“Okay, let’s go,” you grinned after you broke away from the kiss. “Party continues at ours!”

Tyler kept an arm wrapped around you as you walked out of the bar. Two of your friends walked ahead of you, leading the way. The third leant in to mutter a quick “I think you won the jackpot with your boyfriend” in your ear. You knew that she was a hundred percent right. 

[aerynwrites]

Longing

Halsin x Fem!Reader

A/N: I have been burning with an intense CRAVING for Halsin and there is such little fic about him (although there are some good ones out there 👀) so I had to do my part and add to the pool 😏 hope y’all enjoy!

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, reader is insecure about her virginity, talks of inexperience, love confessions, Halsin is a sweetheart, references to NSFW content. Very very minor spoilers for act 2.

Part 2

The fur of the rabbit is soft between your fingers as you prepare it. Yet, despite having a knife in your other hand and your task being a delicate one, you can’t seem to focus.

Your eyes keep drifting back to the druid across camp chopping wood for the fire. The axe is a large one, heavy - heavier than you’d be able to lift. Yet the large elf manages to bring it up above his head and swing it back down with a grace you never understood how he possessed.

The muscles in his shoulders ripple with each movement, accompanying the rythmic thump of the axe through wood. His soft grunts as he pulls it from the stump he’s using before placing the next log onto the surface and starting the process all over again.

“The rabbit is already dead, darling.”

The familiar voice rips you from your staring as your head whips around to see none other than your vampiric companion standing over you, a smirk tugging at his lips. You huff at him before looking down to the rabbit by your knees and heat rushes to your cheeks. What should have been a simple skinning job to get the meat ready for dinner has turned into a mess. Cuts in the wrong places, the hide nowhere near usable anymore.

You look back up just in time to see Astarions red eyes go from you, to Halsin, then back again. His smile grows. He shifts his feet, one arm resting across his chest as he gestures with his other to Halsin.

“You know, you could paint a portrait. It would last longer.”

Your cheeks somehow get even hotter, as you turn back to the rabbit in front of you, doing a much better job than earlier.

“Leave me alone, Astarion,” you mumble, cursing internally when the elf lowers himself to the ground beside you, arms resting on his knees.

“And why would I do that, when teasing you gives me so much joy?”

You can’t stop the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Okay, well you got me all flustered. So now that’s out of the way, did you need something or did you really interrupt your reading to bother me?”

The vampire sighs, leaning back on his hands as he looks over to you. “What I need is for you to finally jump that druids bones.”

You nearly choke as the words leave his lips, looking around to see if anyone heard and feeling heat creep up your neck once more as you see Shadowheart failing to hide a chuckle.

You turn to face your friend, eyes narrowed. “Could you be a little more quiet? I don’t need the whole camp hearing you.”

Astarion laughs this time, loudly, and it draws more glances than you’d like. You roughly shove the man next to you before he can speak.

“Your next words better be a whisper or I’m going to stab you ” you threaten, poking the knife in his direction.

Astarion places a hand over his heart, faux hurt in his eyes. “You wound me, darling. I’m just trying to help you. Plus,” he gestures to the camp, “it’s not like your attraction is a secret, nor Halsin’s.”

You shake your head turning back to grab another rabbit, embarrassment welling up in your chest. “He doesn’t…” you trail off, getting defensive. “Nothing’s there, Astarion. So can we please just drop it?”

Of course, he doesn’t.

“Look,” he starts, “all I’m trying to say is that neither of you are benefiting from holding back so…indulge, for once. Gods know we all deserve it.”

You ignore him. Curling in on yourself at the mention of…indulging. There nothing wrong with it of course. Everyone at camp has blown off steam along this adventure. Just…not you.

And the vampire must be able to tell too, because at your silence he straightens up, brows pinching in the rare way that shows he’s concerned.

“Wait, have you never…?” he gestures vaguely in the air.

His words, despite their genuine curiosity, strike a chord in you. You stand abruptly, tossing your work to the ground and stabbing your knife in the dirt.

“No I haven’t. Not that it’s any of your business.” Your words are louder than you intended and draw the eyes and ears of your other companions.

Astarion softens, obviously not expecting this reaction. “I didn’t mean to upset you-“

You clench your fists at your sides, interrupting him. “You never mean to Astarion but -“ You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. “You’re such an ass sometimes.”

You turn on your heel and storm from camp before anyone can stop you, ignoring the concerned gaze of a certain druid.

———

The water is cool against your skin as you squat by the stream’s edge, rubbing at your hands as you try to get the blood off of them.

You feel foolish now, storming off like that. But Astarion pointing out your inexperience just struck you. It’s not something that’s ever bothered you before. Especially not in recent months since dealing with the tadpole. You all have more important things to worry about.

But the moment you rescued Halsin…it’s like something changed. You were instantly drawn to him. His kind smile and thoughtful words. His care for everyone and everything in nature.

And he flirted with you.

The memory is still fresh in your mind. The night of the tiefling party after you had stopped the ritual at the druid camp and saved Halsin. You were worried you were talking his ear off, but he was attentive the whole conversation. Answering your questions and asking some about you.

Then he said those honeyed words. Suggested celebrating by spending the night with someone special. Implied he would spend it with you if his mind wasn’t elsewhere.

You withdraw your hands from the water to drag them down your face as more memories surface.

More flirtatious banter and kind words. Thoughtful conversations and fighting side by side. The night sat by your bedside nursing you back to health after a particularly nasty fight. After Ketheric Thorm almost took you out.

Your side still aches with the memory. But the thought of his hands with their soothing healing glow, makes the ache subside.

You sigh, sitting back into the grass as your eyes lock onto the slowly gurgling stream, Astarion words playing over and over in your head.

Indulge, for once.

You want to. Gods do you want that.

You’ve spent many sleepless nights thinking about it. About his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, the sweet words he’d no doubt whisper against your ear.

You shudder at the thought before shoving it away. Because any time he hinted at that - showed any interest in you - you would be so elated before insecurity took over.

Halsin’s views on love and intimacy are no secret. You’d asked him once about current lovers and while he did confide no one currently held his affections back home he also expressed that there were others in the past.

Others. Plural.

And you’ve never been with anyone. Not physically or emotionally, you’ve never trusted anyone enough.

Not until now.

You sigh, frustration creeping back in as you press the heels of your palms into your eyes before quickly standing up. You need to apologize to Astarion and finally, maybe, talk to Halsin.

You turn on your heel to do just that when you run straight into a solid mass. You gasp, stumbling backwards just as two strong hands reach out to steady you, gripping your wrists firmly.

Once steady, you look up to see none other than the man haunting your thoughts smiling down at you.

“You must have been very deep in thought for someone like me to sneak up on you, little one.”

You have to suppress a shiver at the nickname. A moniker he’d given you since you teased him about his size at the beginning of your friendship.

You shake your head, moving to step away and only stopping when his hands let go only to slip down and take your own gently.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I was just…thinking.”

Halsin stares at you for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face before he steps away, gesturing down the first path, one hand still in your own.

“Walk with me?” he asks. “I know being in nature helps me clear my head of even the darkest thoughts.”

You give a hesitant nod and follow him as he turns towards the path, not able to stop the smile when he doesn’t drop your hand.

———

The walk is mostly silent, a comfortable silence, but silent nonetheless. And you are grateful for it, not sure what you would say if Halsin were to ask what has you so upset.

But, silence can’t last forever it seems, because eventually the large Druid breaks through the sounds of nature surrounding you to speak.

“I overheard your conversation with Astarion,” he says, voice gentle. Probing, but not not forcing you to talk if you do not wish.

You stiffen, your pace slowing slightly, wanting to pull away from the man at your side. But his sure grip on your hand keeps you in place. The warmth of his skin on yours puts you slightly at ease.

“You…you heard that?” you ask, cringing internally. “You were across camp.”

The druid chuckles, gesturing to his ears with his free hand. “One of the curses of us elves. Impeccable hearing. Even when we don’t wish for it.”

You can feel your shoulders creeping up to your ears. Embarrassment settling in once more. “You were listening to us? To me?”

Halsin shrugs. “Not intentionally,” he admits, slowing his steps until you’re both stopped and he’s facing you. “But I find my attention turning towards you more often than not these days.”

His words tie your tongue and before you can gather enough sense to respond he continues.

“Nature works in mysterious ways, little one,” he tells you, eyes never leaving your face. “There is no one way to traverse it, and others journey do not define your own. Each one is unique, as it is intended.”

His words are beautifully woven, as always. And despite his cryptic deliverance, you know the meaning behind his words.

He’s comforting you. And once again, he speaks before you can detangle the jumble of thoughts in your head.

“And,” he reaches out, placing a curled finger beneath your chin to urge you to look up at him, “if it’s any encouragement, I seek you out as much as you do me. Possibly more so.”

Your eyes widen, heart stuttering in your chest at his words. He…does he feel the same way? Rationally you know he does. But that ever familiar self doubt, the tiny voice in your mind has always brushed away the flirting - the kind words and gentle touches as just part of his nature. None of it is reserved just for you.

Right?

Halsin smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners gently as he looks down at you. “Is that really such an outlandish thought? That I return your affections?” He pauses, “unless my heart has run ahead of itself and I have misread-“

You stop him then, reaching up to place a staying hand on his own beneath your chin.

“No! You haven’t…you haven’t misread,” you assure him, trying to still your racing heart.

His smile never falters, his other hand finally coming up to cradle the back of your head, teasing soft strands of hair between his fingers.

“That is good to hear,” he says, pulling you ever closer, his nose almost brushing yours, “it puts this old druid's mind at rest.”

Gods, you can’t breathe. The air in your lungs refusing to expel as he lean even closer, lips a hairbreadth away from your own. Your body sings with anticipation, your skin hot despite the cool air ushered in by the sun sinking below the horizon, the days last rays barely filtering through the trees.

“Can I kiss you, my heart?”

Halsins words are soft, barley a whisper and nearly drowned out by the sounds of nature around you and the roaring of blood in your ears.

You nod. “Please-“

The word barely passes your lips before he descends upon you, sealing his mouth with your own.

It’s both everything you expected and completely surprising at the same time. His hands are sure as he pulls you into him, one hand still cradling your head as the other slips down to your hip before wrapping around your waist. Yet his lips, the kiss itself is…soft. Gentle. Loving. The action speaks louder than any words either of you have said to one another. Louder than the words you never worked up the courage to speak.

Finally, your mind catches up with you, and your hands slide up his chest to clutch tentatively at his shoulders.

Halsins still hasn’t broken away from you, and when his tongue brushes against your lips you let him in. You tug him closer then, one of your hands sliding up to rest at the back of his neck eliminating any empty space between you as his tongue slides against your own.

He only pulls away when he must sense your need for air, but he doesn’t go far, lips pressing gently to the corner of your own, and then another to your jaw.

You’re breathless.

Chest heaving against him, as he pulls away just enough to look at you once more.

“As much as I’d love to continue…” his hand squeezes your hip gently, “we should make our way back to camp. I can imagine our absence as stirred gossip with our vampiric companion and..” he sighs, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

You can’t surprise the shiver that runs down your spine, or the smile that tugs at your lips.

“I’m…I’m okay being overwhelmed if it’s like that,” you tell him breathlessly.

Halsin laughs, a deep down genuine laugh that makes your heart sing even as he steps away from you.

“Then I will overwhelm you in all the ways I know how.” He promises, eyes trailing over you heatedly.

Your stomach does a flip at his words, and the effect they have on you must show on your face because Halsin chuckles again, leaning in to press one last kiss to your cheek before tugging you back in the direction towards camp.

“Another night, my heart,” he says, thumb brushing over your knuckles from where your hand remains in his own.

You let out a shaky breath, and nod, smiling as you walk closer to him. “I’m holding you to that.”

“I hope you would, though I doubt I will forget such a promise,” he assures before letting silence blanket you both one more.

You can’t stop the thrill that runs through you at his words.

Yes, I’ll hold you to that promise indeed.