#why are they staring so intensely at each other

[gintrinsic-writing]

Hi there. I always read fics where Warriors doesnt know that Time is Mask. But i was thinking why not the reverse? Children don't have that strong of a memory. So although Time remembers the Captain from the war and how much he meant to him, he didn't quite make the connection that he and Wars are one and the same. Meanwhile Wars over here is very proud of his little brother and also constantly trying to offer him hugs and giving him like a bedtime or something and Time is like ???

Do with prompt what you like, maybe when time finally makes the connection.

Also it's totally alright if you don't feel like writing it, no pressure. <3

Sorry this is uhhhhh two years late, Anon. I made it a little silly. :)

--

It was probably the scarring, Warriors mused, idly thumbing the thickened tissue that pulled at his nose and lips. No matter how prettily he attempted to smile, his expression bore a perpetual grimace. It didn't seem fair, but that was life, after all. The end of the war hadn't quelled any of the resentment from those who believed that the Hero should've been quicker, or smarter, or stronger; if anything, the peace that had followed merely gave them time to redirect their ire, and their blades. Warriors hadn't been able to feel his right cheek for nearly a year.

He imagined the length of his hair didn't help the situation either. It was longer, now, and it curled around his jaw if he didn't apply any product. Warriors rather liked it like that, maybe especially because of the way it looked nothing like the practical cut he'd sported during the war.

But still, surely Time recognized him. Yes, he'd gained a few healthy pounds, and he cared about things like moisturizers and conditioners when he'd never before had the chance to, but goddesses above, the scarf was pretty recognizable, and so was his "annoying, posh-ass accent," or so he'd believed.

He certainly remembered Mask, regardless of the decades that must've passed for the other hero.

But they'd been traveling together for days at this point, all nine of them, and Time's countenance revealed not even a semblance of familiarity whenever he looked Warriors's way. And that was...

Well, not great.

So Warriors waited for the right time, and when the younger heroes went off on some questionable exploration of a something called a "fire fruit orchard," he sidled up to the Hero of Time with the closest thing he could manage to a grin. "Portals," he began with a conspiring wink, "am I right?"

Time didn't seem to share his amusement. Not even for camaraderie's sake. "Are you not going to follow the others?"

"No, they'll be fine." Probably. Mostly. "I figured you and I should take the time to talk."

"Hm." Time busied himself with cleaning the back of one of his gauntlets. The metal practically gleamed already. "About what?"

Not one to be deterred, Warriors stepped closer. "It's only right that we get to know each other. Call it bonding, or... unmasking." He paused, waiting to see if the joke connected, and he couldn't help but lean forward to bump their shoulders together just like he'd done to Mask dozens of times during the war.

Somehow, he ended up on his ass. Literally.

"Not interested," Time answered flatly, drawing his leg back as if he hadn't just stepped aside and tripped Warriors with it.

A blushed warmed one side of Warriors's face, and he cleared his throat. Belatedly, he remembered to stand up. "I only meant--"

"I know what you meant." Time held up his left hand. A plain silver ring decorated his fourth finger. "But I'm taken, jackass."

"That's--I didn't--Mask--"

"Try that euphemism one more time, and I promise you won't experience a single peaceful night on this goddess forsaken journey."

Warriors stared, and for once, Time stared back. The look in his eye was fucking terrifying. Warriors couldn't help but admire the man, even if his skin crawled from the intensity of that stare. After what felt like one of the most dangerous moments of his life, he finally sighed and threw up his hands. "Do you truly not remember me, you brat?"

Time blinked, then narrowed his eye. "Should I?" As if it was a threat!

"Captain Link?" Warriors tried, drawling a little out of frustration. "Time travel? The War Across the Ages? Any of that ring a bell?"

For a moment, it seemed like Time had truly forgotten, then his jaw dropped; the stupidity of the look suited him. "Captain?"

"Nayru's sake, yes!" Warriors scoffed, feeling his scarred lip catch briefly. "I can't believe it took you so--Oof!"

He ended up on his ass again. This time, Time was on the ground with him. All things considered, it wasn't the worst hug he'd ever received. Not by far.

[octoberautumnbox]

https://x.com/RREFP22/status/1795434393097646152

YulYen campus threesome. The short skirts are making me feel things

AWW THEY'RE ADORABLE JHGKJSHFDKJH I MISS YULYEN SO BAD WHY DIDNT THEY JUST SING TOGETHERRRRR

~~~

(warning: con-noncon)

Yena slams Yuri right up against a nearby wall. Her palm connects with Yuri's throat, keeping her in place, and her fingers squeeze around her windpipe, not to choke, but to warn. "Don't embarrass me like that again." Her eyes are intense behind her shades, smoke nearly coming out the top of her head, but Yuri remains unfazed.

"Come on, you look ridiculous, unnie," she sings. She pulls off Yena's eye coverings and takes a quick look, then discards them off to the side. "It isn't even that bad. Nobody would have noti-- Ghk!"

Yena follows through with her threat, her hand constricting Yuri's throat harshly. It forces the younger's mouth open and the reflex makes her tongue stick out. The two make eye contact, Yuri's wide-eyed gaze against Yena's murderous stare.

"Fuck. You." The younger almost doesn't see it, but at the last second she's able to spot the older's other palm rise high and threaten her with a slap. She flinches, but for the wrong reason, and Yena swipes at the chance to take Yuri's tongue in her mouth.

All the while Yuri frantically tries clawing her unnie's hand away from her throat, she leaks her spit conveniently for Yena to lap up in the opportune moments and let her dongsaeng breathe just a little bit of fresh air.

And true to Yuri's own character, the continued semi-lack of air and her unnie's insistence on this poorly-timed makeout session send the wrong signal to her core, her libido rising in the worst possible situation for her at the moment. She feels herself getting wetter down there, and true to Yena's character, she knows.

The older tosses the younger to the floor by the neck, and Yuri chokes on her spit and the sudden increase of air she accidentally inhales. She tries catching her breath on the ground, the world still spinning around her, and before she knows it, Yena is able to maneuver her onto all fours.

"Unnie, please, I'm sor-- hngg~!" It turns out Yuri was less aware of her surroundings after all, and in the apparently not-so-short time she was on the ground Yena was able to strip her of her shorts. She was also able to push three fingers into Yuri's core, all the while threatening a fourth.

"Apologize by cumming on my hand, fucking bitch." In no way at all was Yena gentle or considerate, and Yuri felt every ounce of her wrath through the merciless fingerblasting she was being subjected to. The last rational thought in her head thanks her lucky stars she was wet to begin with, otherwise it'd be impossible to muffle the panicked moans that try to escape her mouth.

Yena feels her former member clench and leak more, telltale signs that she's getting close. She bends her finger inside her to start hitting Yuri's favorite spots, forcing her to increase in volume and shame.

"You fucking slut, being this loud when someone could hear you and just walk right in. You're even enjoying this, aren't you?" Each word stabs at Yuri's heart: all of it is true, and she can't deny it. She lets her unnie feel how tight she's getting to be, and it fills her with shame how she's nearly there, almost there...

And it comes earlier than expected. The pleasure finally peaks and Yuri's floodgates come crashing open. "AAAAHHHHHHH!!" she screams, having lost control of herself and now in a mere freefall of wrongful pleasure. Her cum shoots out of her in messy streaks all over the floor beneath her crotch, all the while she tries burying her face in her hands to hide how this feels so good.

Once her orgasm starts fading out, Yena pulls out her fingers from Yuri's abused pussy. She pulls Yuri up by the hair, making sure the poor girl can see as her beloved unnie licks up all she can of her essence on her fingers. It fills Yuri with a deep sense of embarrassment to get off in such a way, but she can't help it— it's Yena.

"Mmm, delicious. Don't disrespect me again, whore. Don't make me teach you this lesson another time." Yuri is tossed to the floor again, weak and out of breath. Just as Yena gets up, Yuri grabs her ankle in the hopes of delivering her final words:

"I thought... we only do this stuff... at home?" Her speech is impeded by deep breaths that try to make up for her sore lack of air.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Got carried away, hehe. You okay?" She kisses Yuri on the forehead in apology. "Text me, baby. Gotta go, my turn with the fans."

"Okay... Just finish the job later." Yena sprints off to the center of the stage, leaving Yuri lying on the floor.

[kymerawrites]

Enemies to lovers

We didn’t like each other that was for sure, we hated each other in fact. And it was clear. I’m one of the few girls on the 141 but since the day we met we couldn’t stand each other

And today was one of my outings, I scoffed as he brushed past me “watch where your going skeleton!”

"Private. My office. Now."

Simon barked the second you came through the door. His expression was fierce despite being covered by his signature skull mask. He gestured for you to sit before him, leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. The tension was thick in the air, the silence between us heavy. Whatever he had to say... It wasn't going to be pleasant.

“Can you explain to me why you're acting like a damn brat?”

Ghost finally broke the silence. His voice was cool and stern, his gaze locked with yours behind the mask. Despite his lack of expression, you could feel his disapproving stare burning into you.

"Is there a reason for this behavior I'm unaware of?"

He asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"If there's a problem, then speak up."

I laughed and with venom in my voice I told him “wasn’t it you who started this? I don’t like you, you hate me it’s evident in the behaviors we are giving each other.”

Ghost rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. He stood up from his chair, crossing his arms across his chest as he loomed over the desk.

"If that's what you think, then let me be clear." He said in a low, dangerous voice.

"I don't hate you. I don't care about you." His tone made it sound like an insult. Ghost was never one for idle chit-chat.

"So stop acting like a damn spoiled brat and start acting like a soldier."

I shook my head and rolled my eyes “out of no where you’re acting so.. professional. Should I remind you of what happened last week?”

What happened last week was a screaming match with the team needing to pull us apart.

"And what happened last week, Private? Please remind me."

Ghost replied calmly, though his eyes bore into you behind the mask. He knew exactly what you were talking about, but he wanted to hear you say it. The tension in the room growing thicker.

Ghost nodded slowly, his expression growing more intense behind his mask.

"And remind me again, Private... Who threw the first punch?"

His tone was laced with a cold and icy edge. Even though you couldn't see his face, you could feel the fury building up inside of him. He was clearly irritated.

“Who agitated me first? And who challenged me first?”

Ghost scoffed, his expression hardening as he leaned forward slightly.

"I was merely trying to keep things in order. And you responded like a child. I should've expected it. You're so desperate for my attention, you don't care if it's good or bad."

Ghost stood up, his voice rising as he continued.

"Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to deal with a soldier like you? Someone who throws tantrums every time things don't go their way?”

My brows furrowed even more. “I fucking despise you lieutenant.”

Ghost's expression remained cool and collected, though his tone grew even more chilling.

“Likewise, Private. But regardless of our feelings, we’re in the army, and we’ll conduct ourselves as such.”

He began to circle the desk slowly, his footsteps heavy as he walked.

“You’re an excellent soldier, with a lot of potential. But you need to learn discipline. Learn to control yourself. Control... Your temper.”

“You can’t even say my name, not even my callsign. Always ‘private’ like you don’t even want to acknowledge me.” I said

Ghost stopped pacing and stared directly at you. Despite his mask, you could feel his gaze piercing through you.

“You’re just a Private. You haven’t earned the right to be addressed by anything else.”

He paused for a moment before continuing.

“Besides, I don’t care enough about you to care what I call you. You’re just another soldier to me.”

I clapped my hands “wow! Lieutenant do I give a fuck what you think about me? No.” I scoffed and walked towards the door

"Oh, but you do."

Ghost's words froze you in your tracks. You turned back to face him, only to find him standing directly behind you. The expression on his faceless face was cold and unfeeling.

"You care so much it's pathetic. You care about what I think, what I say, what I feel. And it pisses you off."

He stepped even closer, his voice lowering to a gravelly growl.

"You're just too stubborn to admit it."

“Since the day I started here you’ve been nice to everyone. Soap is like a brother to you, the other girls are not any problem. You even have fun conversations with them.”

I sighed and felt my irritation build up even more.

“But with me you seem to just hate me. And so do I.”

Ghost scoffed, leaning in closer as he spoke. His tone was cold and biting.

"Are you jealous?"

His voice was a low, taunting whisper in your ear. You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, and the intensity of his presence was overwhelming.

"Jealous that they see another side of me that you don't get? Jealous that I actually enjoy their company? Jealous that I have no interest in you?"

You felt anger rise up within you, hot and seething. How dare he?! You wanted to punch, to scream, to do something, anything to wipe that arrogant look off his face. But you held back. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. The smirk was back, even more infuriating than before.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Private, but you're just not that special."

He chuckled darkly as if he'd just said the funniest thing in the world.

"In fact, it's almost hilarious."

Ghost continued to taunt you, his voice dripping with condescension.

"You're just a little girl in a man's world. A little girl who wants to play soldier, but you can't handle the heat. You're weak."

His words stung. Of COURSE you were weak compared to him. He had years of experience on you. He was a legend, a name feared and respected. What were you compared to him? Just another nameless grunt, another body to feed the war machine. You tried to hide the flicker of pain that crossed your face, but it was too late. Ghost had seen it.

“What's the matter, Private? I was just getting warmed up.”

Ghost's smirk widened as he leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to a dark and gravelly whisper.

"Maybe you should just give up. Go home. Stay safe and sound, away from all this danger. You might be able to spare yourself some pain and humiliation. How does that sound, sweetheart?”

“If I was that weak what the fuck am I doing in one one of the strongest and well respected teams in the SAS?”

i walked towards his face, he towered over me.

“You don’t know me, and maybe it’s better to keep it that way.”

Ghost's smirk suddenly vanished, his expression growing dark and cold. In a split second he was pinning you against the wall, his grip on your wrist iron-tight. His eyes bore into yours, his voice cold and emotionless.

"You don't respect me, and you don't respect my authority. You've gone far past the line too many times. You're nothing but a spoiled brat, and a pain in my ass."

He leaned in even closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper

"And if you don't fall in line and do as I say, I'll make your life a living hell."

Ghost's grip on your wrist tightened even more, and you could feel the strength in his hand as he pressed against you even harder against the wall.

"Understood, Private?"

You tried to squirm free, but it was useless. Ghost was too strong, too determined to let you go. He was too close, his body pressed up against yours. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his breath hot against your skin.

Despite the situation, you couldn't help but feel a small flicker of... something. Attraction, maybe? This was the closest you'd ever been to him, and you found yourself caught tussen the desire to push him away and the desire to pull him closer.

It was maddening.

For a moment, you felt your heart flutter, and you found yourself unable to look away from his eyes. The tension between you intensified, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling the same thing. The look in his eyes… could it be desire? Was he feeling the same tension you were?

You couldn't be sure. But before you could think too much about it, Ghost let go of your wrist and stepped away, his expression unreadable as he turned back to his desk.

“Dismissed, Private. Get your ass out of my office.”

I walked towards the door and scoffed under my breath “prick.” It seems he heard that because a moment later the side of my head was threw against the wall

You staggered to the side, your vision blurry and your head throbbing in pain. Before you could process what had happened, Ghost was on top of you, pinning you to the ground. His knees dug into you, and his heavy body pressed against yours. He grabbed your hands and pinned them above you, his rough grip keeping you firmly in place.

“You will learn to respect me.” His cold eyes bore into yours.

“You will learn that your little temper tantrums have consequences.”

Ghost’s voice was a growl, low and dangerous. You felt helpless, overpowered and pinned under his massive frame. You tried to struggle, but it was futile. He was too strong, too determined. You were trapped.

The sound of your quick, panicked breathing filled the room as you desperately tried to push back against your restraint. Ghost smirked down at you, his cool, collected demeanor in stark contrast to your desperate struggle.

"Struggle all you like, sweetheart," he purred, his tone mocking and condescending.

"But until you learn your place, you're not going anywhere."

Ghost tightened his grip on your wrists, the rough texture of his gloves digging into your skin as he held you firmly in place. His body pressed down against yours, making it nearly impossible for you to squirm free.

The air between you was thick and charged with tension as Ghost glowered down at you. His intense gaze flicked over your body, taking in every curve and contour before returning to your face. In this position, you were completely helpless, at his mercy. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you panted with a mixture of fear and anger.

“I hate you”

Ghost chuckled, a dark, mocking sound that sent chills down your spine.

”Funny how hate and attraction can sometimes feel pretty similar, huh?”

With his free hand, he gently caressed your cheek, his gloved finger tracing a slow path down your jawline. The touch was tender and intimate, a stark contrast to his earlier actions.

You shuddered involuntarily, your body betraying you as a small moan escaped from your lips. You quickly bit your lip, trying to repress any more sounds.

"I hate you," you repeated, but the words came out sounding more like a gasp than a genuine protest.

Ghost smirked, his dark eyes flickering with a hint of satisfaction as he watched your reaction. He leaned in even closer, his breath hot against your skin, his voice a low growl.

"There it is again. That little sound,” he taunted. “You can deny it all you want, but deep down, you like it...”

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. His body pressed further against yours, his knee forcing Your legs apart as he closed the gap between you. The heat of his body against yours was searing, driving a shiver down your spine. Ghost's eyes locked onto yours, staring down at you with a mixture of desire and dominance.

"I can feel your body tensing up, Private. Your heart racing."

Ghost's voice was a low, seductive whisper, his breath hot against your skin. He ran his finger down the curve of your face again, lingering on your bottom lips.

"You're resisting so hard, but it's only making it worse."

You couldn't deny it. Your body was betraying you, responding to his touch in ways you couldn't control. His firm grip and the heat of his body pressed against yours was sending sparks of electricity racing through your system. It felt like every nerve ending was on fire.

“Fuck..” i sighed

Ghost chuckled, noticing your slip of language.

"That's better. We're getting somewhere."

His free hand moved to the nape of your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair. It was both gentle and possessive, making it clear who was in control here.

"Do you feel that, sweetheart? The tension between us?"

Ghost kept his gaze trained on your face, watching your every expression as he continued to touch you. His fingers lingered on your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He knew what he was doing to you. He wanted you to feel out of control, overwhelmed by his very presence.

Ghost smirked again, his fingers continuing to toy with the strands of your hair.

"Hatred and desire can be intertwined, can't they?" he murmured, his voice low and thick with a darker intent.

"I despise the disrespect you show me. But the way you react to my touch... The little sounds you make..."

"That I have come to crave."

Ghost's hand moved down the nape of your neck, tracing a path down the curve of your spine. The touch of his rough, gloved fingers sent shivers up your spine, the contrast between the rough material and the heat of his skin creating a strange but thrilling sensation.

"I want... No, I need you to understand who's in charge here. I need you to know what happens when you defy me."

You tried to respond, to say something, anything to counter his words, but he pressed his body flush against yours, silencing any attempt at protest. It was as if every inch of your skin was on fire, every sense heightened. His smell, a mix of sandalwood and something entirely masculine, clouded your mind.

As he leaned down to whisper in your ear, his dark, seductive voice seemed to envelop you.

Your breath hitched as his hand continued to move down your body, his fingers exploring every inch of your skin. Every touch made your heart race faster, your body reacting to his advances in ways you couldn't explain, but he didn't seem to care. His touch was firm and possessive, sending waves of heat through your body. You started to feel dizzy, your mind reeling from the intense sensations that were overtaking you.

Then, his hand found the hemline of your top, slipping under it and touching your skin. The sudden skin-to-skin touch made your body arch involuntarily, a gasp escaping your lips.

Ghost let out another dark chuckle, his fingers gently squeezing your hip.

"It seems I have found a weak spot," he teased, his smirk growing wider. "You like the feeling of my hand on your skin, don't you?"

His fingers traced small circles across your stomach, each pass sending sparks of electricity through your body.

You tried to fight against the sensations, to pull away from his touch, but it only seemed to spur him on. His hand moved lower, his fingers skimming lightly over the waistband of your pants, gently tugging at it as he continued to speak.

"You think you can hide it, but it's so obvious how much you're enjoying this."

“I still hate you I whispered”

Ghost chuckled softly, his hand pausing its movements for a moment.

"You say that," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Yet your body betrays you. Your heart rate is up, your breathing is shallow, and your skin is flushed with desire. You may hate me, but your body can't deny its own needs."

His thumb began to rub small circles into your lower stomach, the touch sending waves of heat and anticipation rolling through you. Your head felt light and dizzy, your body thrumming with unreleased tension.

"You may despise me now, but by the time I am done with you, you'll be begging for more.”

His words were a promise and a threat, a warning that this was only the beginning. As Ghost's hand moved lower, your breath hitched and your body tensed once more. You could feel yourself being pulled in two different directions - part of you wanted to pull away, to maintain a sense of control, but the other part of you was drawn to his touch like a moth to a flame.

He playing dangerous, and he knew it.

"Your body knows it needs this," he murmured, his hand moving further down your abdomen. "Can't you feel it? The heat, the tension, the desperate ache for more?" His fingers played with the button of your pants, almost teasing you with their proximity to the place where you wanted him most.

You couldn't help but let out a small sigh, your body arching slightly under his touch. "You don't hate this," he whispered in your ear. "Your body craves it."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your neck.

"And I'm the only one who can give it to you, Private," he growled lowly, his hand gripping your hip once more. Then, with a quick, skillful movement, he pulled you up to him, sitting you on his lap. You gasped in surprise, feeling the hard, muscular planes of his body underneath you, a mix of shock and desire coursing through your veins.

You were trapped, but you found yourself wanting to stay in his lap. The heat of his body beneath you, his strong arms holding you in place, it was intoxicating. You tried to push back the growing desire, the need for his touch, but it was futile.

Ghost didn't hesitate. His hands found their way under your top once again, pulling the material up over your chest. You felt a flutter of nerves as his hands brushed against your bare skin, but the sensation was quickly replaced by a wave of desire. His fingers traced tantalizing patterns across your stomach and along your ribs, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

"It seems you've finally stopped resisting," he murmured, his hands continuing their exploration of your body. "You can't deny it, Private. You want this as much as I do."

With a quick, practiced motion, your top was pulled over your head, leaving you exposed to his darkened gaze.

You shivered slightly, the cool air a stark contrast to the heat of his hands as he continued to touch you. His eyes roamed over your body, taking in every inch of your bare skin.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Now," he whispered, "just give in."

With a soft groan, you did just that. You surrendered to the sensations, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment.

Ghost wasted no time. His hands grew rougher, his touch more urgent. He took pleasure in the small gasps and moans he teased out of you, drinking in the sensations like a man starved for touch.

Without another word, Ghost pulled you closer, his hands gripping your hips firmly. You felt a mix of nerves and excitement as he positioned you, bracing yourself for what was about to happen. His touch was heated and full of desire, driving you to the brink of madness.

"After this," he growled, his voice thick with need. "we'll go back to hating each other."

You could feel the stiffness of his arousal pressed against you, the pressure deliciously good. You knew without a doubt that you needed him, that you longed for his touch, even if you hated yourself for it.

"This doesn't change anything.." You whispered, your voice full of tension.

Ghost let out a low chuckle, his hands tracing lazy circles on your hips as he rocked his hips upwards against yours, his own need evident. "No," he agreed, his voice husky. "This doesn't change anything. But right now, that's the least of our concerns."

Ghost's expression darkened as he began to undo his pants, his eyes locked onto yours. The sight of him undressing sent a surge of anticipation through your body, a mixture of desire and trepidation.

His dark pants came undone, and he began to slide them down his hips, revealing what lay beneath.

His arousal was prominent now, the material of his boxers barely containing it.

The sight of him, so unabashedly aroused, made your breath catch in your throat. His eyes flickered with a mixture of desire and power, his gaze fixed on your face as he watched your reaction.

He reached out, gently caressing your face with his gloved fingers. The contrast between his rough touch and his tender gesture sent a rush of conflicting emotions through you.

"Change your mind yet?" he murmured, his voice low and coaxing. "Do you still hate me?"

“Dear god..” I hastily got rid of my panties

“I still do but that doesn’t matter right now..”

Ghost chuckled softly, his rough thumb gently tracing your bottom lip as he took in your flushed expression. Your haste was alluring, and he could feel a stirring of desire within him.

He reached out, taking your hips in his hands once more, his touch firm.

His boxer, thrown aside in the heat of the moment. You couldn't help but feel a small twinge of anticipation as you glanced down, getting a glimpse his cock.

His body was chiseled and toned, his muscles honed from years of training. Scars and tattoos adorned his skin, adding to the hardened look that was typical of a man in his line of work.

You were drawn to him in spite of yourself, your hands moving to explore the planes of his chest. But your touch seemed to ignite something within him, and before you knew it, you were being flipped onto your back.

He touched my butt and said “take it.”

The sound of Ghost's voice, so confident and commanding, sent a shiver through you. You didn't hesitate, though. You knew that this was what you both wanted, no matter how much you might deny it afterward.

With a firm movement, he guided your hips into position, his body pressing fully against yours. Then, he sank into you, a guttural moan escaping his mouth

lips as he did so. He let out a low, satisfied growl, his hands gripping your hips tightly, holding you in place as he began to move.

His rhythm was relentless, a steady and powerful rhythm that left you breathless

less and dizzy with pleasure. Every stroke sent waves of sensation coursing through your body, each one pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

He whispered dirty things in your ear, his voice husky and filled with desire. He told you how much he had wanted this, how he had longed to make you his. His words only heightened the experience, his voice like a sultry melody that only fueled the fire between you.

Until we started to argue inbetween our pleasures

Ghost's rhythm never faltered, his body continuing to move against you despite the back and forth banter. His grunts and moans served as a counterpoint to your own breathless gasps, creating a perverse harmony that filled the room.

"You... insufferable little.." he growled between gasps, his hands tightening on your hips.

"You... drive me insane." You groaned in response, your own body arching against his as the pleasure built to a dizzying height. "I... hate... this."

"You hate it... but you can't get enough," Ghost countered, his voice strained with lust. "You can't resist... me."

His rhythm grew more intense, each drive stronger than the last.

"I can... and I will. As soon as... this is over... I'm going... to ignore you," you panted, trying in vain to argue despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

"You can try," he retorted, his voice a low growl. "But you won't be able to forget this. No one else can give you... what I can."

His movements grew increasingly erratic, his breath coming in heavy gasps as his release approached.

"I... I..." Your own words became incoherent as your body was driven to the edge, your release crashing over you with an intensity that left you breathless and shuddering. Ghost groaned, his own climax following close behind yours, his body shuddering against yours as he found himself cumming.

As the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through your bodies, you lay there in a tangled heap of limbs and breathless gasps, the echoes of your mutual release filling the air. There was a heavy silence for a moment, the only sound being the sound of your rapid heartbeats and shallow breathing.

I stood up and feeling hazy and got dressed again “well..skeleton..” I was still shaking from the aftermath

He just looked at me “dismissed private.”

And our hatred for each other was back to square 1.

[hamletthedane]

My favorite thing about mid-century sewing patterns is that the go-to method of showing off different styles/cuts of a pattern was apparently “plausible-deniability homoeroticism”

[itsalwaysforyou]

re: my last post

[xinyuehui]

Mom! Do the customers and the owner's family have to sit at the same table? // Dad! As the boss, can't we choose our customers?

不良執念清除師│Oh No! Here Comes Trouble

[unhinged-nymph]

JORDAN PLS

Also Rhett’s reaction 👀

And then Link, wtf are you on about

The tension in the room is palpable 😬

[spikybanana]

@wolfstarmicrofic - prompt: wilderness - is this hogwarts is this the 40-line stare I don't know but here you go

They sit across from each other at the table, silent, inconspicuous. But when Sirius looks at him, holds his eyes, Remus is hurled right into storms and wildfires. It strips him bare in the wilderness and Remus clings on like it's the remains of the broken mast in a tempest at sea. The chill that runs down his spine feels like biting winds that cuts straight through his lungs down to his bones. Then, he blinks, Sirius looks away, and he drops abruptly back to reality; to the silent table, and to counting knots in the wood that only barely approximated the knots that throb in his chest.

[slvttyplum]

satoru putting a vibrator wand on your clit and no matter how much you beg and plead, he’ll keep it there and laugh at you while he does it.

what really turned him on, though, was putting a cloth inside or around your mouth and watching your facial reaction as you get overstimulated.

your chest is rising and falling every time he turns the speed on the wand faster. it hurts so bad, but you keep cumming.

“you want me to believe you want to stop when you’re squirting?” taking the wand, moving it away, and swiping the squirt that comes off.

he got off to you, begging with your eyes and your whimpers.

your clit and hole were sore by the time he got done with you, and he’s never actually done with you.

he even got a dildo machine and would put you in front of it, restrain you, and put the wand on your clit.

the double pleasure you received from that died out quickly when you got overstimulated, with tears rushing down your face and muffled cries from beneath the cloth.

satoru would just stare at you and laugh while his hard-on twitched in his pants; he fucking loved it.

“there you go, you can keep going.” he’ll coo from the corner as his eyes trailed over every bit of your body as he watched you get fucked out of your mind.

this would go on for hours and hours—just hours of you getting fucked by this machine and overstimulated by the wand.

after he got tired of watching, satoru would fuck you himself, and feeling his dick pulse inside, shortly after cum inside you, it felt good.

“you love this shit don’t you, hm?” his hands on your breasts, squeezing them as he pushes into you once more, his dick passing your sweet spot.

your body became extra sensitive to the toys, so every time he touched you, your pussy would get wet and your nipples would get hard.

even when he would fuck you, you would cum in under five minutes, which made satoru want to abuse your pussy even more.

slapping it, putting a vibrating dildo inside of you—anything you can think of—he did it, and it had you jerking with pleasure.

one time, satoru put you on a chair, put the vibrator under you, and had you stay there for hours.

by the time he came back, the chair and floor were soaked in your fluids, your eyes rolled back, and your body was jumping from each tiny orgasm that followed.

“don’t tell me you don’t like this shit when you cum over yourself.” his words are soft as he looks down at you.

He liked seeing you get overstimulated; he liked putting his fingers inside of you and feeling your wetness coat his fingers; he liked hearing your pleads and whimpers.

no matter what, he was going to torture your clit, if your pussy wasn’t aching or if you weren’t begging him to stop by the end of the night, he'd start over, and it'd be even more intense.

if one toy dies, he’ll go to the other, and the cycle will repeat. when he was done teasing you, nothing would come out of your mouth.

like they disappeared; you couldn’t even think.

that’s why, after a certain time of being fucked silly, you’ll just accept the pleasure that came and sink into the overstimulation.

the only way you could communicate with him was through your moans and whimpers, like the slut you are.

[lijojo]

genshin sugar daddies

premise: you have seven sugar daddies: one for every day of the week. a bit overwhelming, right? however, you somehow find ways to make time for each and every one of them, no matter how emotionally and physically demanding they are. it's just that, now they don't seem too keen on sharing, and you don't know what to do. (modern au)

tw: nsfw, dark content - minors dni

mondays are always harder in more ways than one. mondays are diluc's days, and that means that you're spending a good portion of your nights at angel's share.

on mondays, it's happy hour. which means that you're sitting at a booth in the corner looking pretty while diluc is tending to his customers. you're more than happy to sit back and relax while you wait for him to finish with work. when the drinks are on the house, you're willing to wait as long as it'll take.

periodically, when he's not busy, however, he'll walk over to you and engage in conversation. you act as a taste-tester for new drinks so he's always asking you if you like them. you two will talk about your day, any interesting events, and so on until diluc is pulled back into work again.

then you're back to fiddling your fingers and watching him work. over time, you've learned that he preferred that you not do anything while you were supposed to be with him. that instead, you fixated your gaze on him while he moved about. sometimes you'll catch him looking at you to see if your eyes are still on him.

even while he's dealing with a certain tone-deaf bard, there's something about the way he looks at you so intently that reminds you of a predator.

when angel's share closes, you're there to keep him company while he cleans up. when he's done, he'll sweep you away back to his manor.

you'll fall onto the sheets as he grinds against you. his shallow breaths brush against your throat. the look he gives you is nothing short of intense.

"everyone at the tavern was looking at you, you know," he mutters, running his fingers down your chest, sinking into your pants. he pulls them down effortlessly along with your panties. "didn't you feel it, darling? their filthy eyes on you. they want to ruin you. everyone wants to ruin you."

he throws your legs over his shoulders, his fingers crawling up your thighs. you jump when he suddenly inserts two fingers into your cunt, scissoring you. his free arm wraps around your leg to keep you locked against him. his eyes are glued onto you as he presses a kiss against your calf.

"but your eyes were on me all night, weren't they. couldn't take your eyes off me, could you. you're mine, dear. do you hear me? you're mine."

you don't overlook how tight his grip is. tight enough to make you wonder if he'll ever let you go. in the morning, he does, but you're scared for the day he wakes up and decides that it's for the last time.

tuesdays aren't as bad. when you’re sore from the night before, childe is there to take you out to meals, shopping, and sightseeing. he's not always available to spend time with you on tuesdays, because of his equally-demanding job and whatnot, but when he is free, he never wastes a second.

or a dollar.

childe smirks smugly from his sea. his posture is lax, one hand lazily tracing circles on the chair's arm while the other comes up to rest under his chin.

"how about you twirl for me, girlie? you look so beautiful."

you giggle, observing yourself in the mirror. "why thank you."

you bask in the way the soft satin kisses your skin. the way your newly-own earrings sparkle under the dressing room's light. just a couple years ago, you could've only dreamed of being dressed so prettily.

"do your side-bitches ever treat you as well as me?"

"childe!" you chide.

he laughs, getting up from his seat. but you both know better than to believe his little chuckle is genuine.

he approaches you, sliding his hands around your waist. tucking your head under his chin, he stares at you through the mirror's reflection.

you don't say anything, and childe doesn't either. it appears he's more than happy to enjoy just standing there. his gaze is glossed over, far away.

the two of you sway side to side for what seems like forever until he decides to say something.

"do they buy you pretty things like i do?"

of course they do, you think. although you spend one-on-one time with each and every one of them, they are all aware of each other. it's only right that they did. it was the first thing you said when you brought the idea up to them, that it wasn't going to be exclusive.

but when you see the way he looks at you, you can't really tell him the truth. not when his focus is redirected from his thoughts to you.

"the things you buy me are a special kind of pretty," you reply.

it seems like that answer is enough for him, because he doesn't say anything else. instead he hums quietly, letting the vibration ripple in the back of your head. he slides his hands down your hips and before you can say anything else, he whips his head around.

"i'll buy these sets." he motions over to the closest clothes rack to an attendant you hadn't noticed. "and that one. and the dress she's wearing. how many colors does this come in, by the way?"

the attendant doesn't hesitate. "five colors, sir. they come in bla—"

"great." he shuffles through his pocket to pull out a black card. "pack them up, we won't be here any longer," he retorts.

the attendant looks ecstatic, quickly shuffling out of the dressing rooms towards the cash register with newfound glee.

"childe," you whine. "i don't think these will fit in my closet."

his hands crawl lower, his finger hovering over your clit. "then they'll fit in mine. come over any time of the week when you want to wear one of my special pretty things."

your breath hitches as he rubs slow circles on your clit. he pushes the two of you back into the dressing room and closes the curtains.

"what are you doing, she'll be back any second—"

he kisses the corner of your jaw, pressing his lips close to your ear. "no worries. if there's one thing i'm sure about, it's that no one undresses you faster than i do."

wednesday is when usually everything calms down. kazuha will typically invite you to a new park, scenic route, or gallery. together, you'll write haikus, sonnets, and limericks together. some hours you'll just sit in silence, putting pen to paper. and when the sun goes down you'll exchange poetry.

out of the seven men, kazuha probably scares you the most. he was the first person you decided to do this whole ordeal with, after all. and since he's known you the longest, he also knows about your circumstances more than others. maybe that's why he's so focused on treating you as if you were a fragile cherry blossom petal. his touches feel like ghosts, running down your forearm as he presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek.

in exchange for his protection, his money, and his care, you give him honeyed words. you act as his muse for when he's hit a creative block. you're there to listen to him read out verses when the wind can't bear the strength to carry them. you listen to his grief about his best friend, his loneliness when he was forced to leave his home country. as someone many of the locals looked to for wisdom, he too carried the emotional burdens of being someone's rock. emotional burdens that he let onto you (whether purposefully or not, you're unsure). but you listen anyway, hearing him talk about days of poverty, where sometimes he had to worry about things to eat, or how to get proper healthcare.

you can't lie and say you're always stable enough to hear some of the things he has to say, but you try.

even if you sometimes feel like you can't take it, you just smile and squeeze his hand tighter like you're supposed to. sometimes your mind will go on autopilot, and sometimes you'll stand up on the grounds of needing to go to the bathroom. but at the end of the day, this is what you signed up for. this. making men happy so that you yourself won't have to worry about your endless debt.

you peer over your notebook to see kazuha immersed in his own writing. but instead of his usual peaceful expression, he looks somber. his hands won't leave the paper, his eyes glued onto the words that he's drawn onto the pages.

"what's got you so worked up?" you ask curiously. "is it something new?"

it's like your voice snaps him out of his trance. he blinks, looking up at you. there's a smile you know all too well on his lips. "yeah, i suppose you could call it that."

"could i look at it? i want to see what's got you so focused like that."

his lips press into a straight line. "hmmm, maybe later."

his words catch you off-guard. usually he's the one who's eager to share his work, regardless of the quality. "oh? is it something you want to keep secret?"

he doesn't many any hint of an answer. instead, he puts down his pen and stares at the ground in contemplation. he's picking and choosing what words to say.

"i could protect you," he says, shuffling his papers to the side. you turn to him, curious. his expression slowly hardens. "by myself, i mean. i could take care of you."

"kazu—"

"i have the means to make a living for the both of us. i could sell more of my poetry, i know they'll sell well—"

"where is this coming from?" you move closer to him, brushing his hair aside. "kazu, are you worried about something?"

there's something that's stopping him from saying anything. his fingers intertwine with yours, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

he purses his lips, before turning away and sighing. "no, not really."

after that, he doesn't say anything else. the two of you bask in silence once again. even though you're used to the quiet, there's something deep down in you that feels nervous. like something in the atmosphere changed. there's a sudden resolved glint in his eye as he get backs to writing so diligently on a piece of paper he won't let you read.

after all these days spent talking about himself, somehow you're scared for the day he suddenly decides to stop.

on thursdays you're usually at tighnari's greenhouse, watching him take notes of other plants while you twiddle your thumbs. once in a while, he'll begin rambling about the plants—what kind of species they are, how rare, their medicinal properties, and the like.

you're more of a companion, than anything. someone who can make his days a little less lonelier. and you appreciate it. it's much more tranquil with him. you can enjoy his sharp quips, especially when cyno comes to visit.

his sex-drive is relatively normal, if not a little below average. just like wednesday, you also expect thursday to be a typical rest day.

except when spring comes.

when spring comes, your routine get a little wonky. for one week, at least. because that's when tighnari's heat hits him like a fucking monsoon.

you can already tell when it's coming when he begins to hover closer to you. whenever you take your hand out to do anything, even the slightest gesture, he's already taking it and dragging it towards his sensitive ears.

the moment you've made your plans set to 'take the week off' and help him out, he's already on you, face pressed into your neck as if it's his oasis.

as you can tell, he takes this week very seriously.

"i bet—shit—those other fucks don't get to hold you as long as i do," he lets out as he fucks into you like there's no tomorrow. his hands hold onto your waist like he owns it, pressing sloppy kisses down your spine. "looking so pretty for me. i wonder what they'd say if you got pregnant with my babies. you'd be so much more beautiful plump with my kids. is that what you want huh? to make them angry with my cum stuffed in your gorgeous pussy?"

some days you almost can't believe how uncharacteristically aggressive he is. he dicks you down like he's trying to imprint his shape into the core of your body so that none of the others can fit inside.

and when he cums, he'll take whatever unfortunate portions slip out and smear it all over your chest. especially where your heart is.

then the process starts all over again.

when it's over, he'll spoon you. as if he didn't almost fuck you to death. his touch is tender, like a ghost's hovering over your skin.

"why won't you leave them all for me?"

you shift a little to look at him and kiss him softy, sweetly, on the line of his jaw. "oh, nari, you know i can't."

his ears droop at your words. "you can't, or you won't."

his words make you freeze a bit.

you think back to last week, and the week before, and the one before that. you think about why you started selling your services in the first place, the endless debt you used to be in, and the progression of the relationship between all seven of your...contacts. even if you wanted to, you don't think you could back out if you tried. you've dug a hole for yourself. one deep enough to cause some sort of disruption if you ever decided to stop digging.

so you just hum. "you know how much i love routine."

as some sort of apology, you give him and open-mouthed kiss, one he's almost desperate to return. he moans, hands cupping your face to bring you closer to him.

you're well unaware how much your words have an impact him.

at the end of the week, all al-haitham wants to do is unwind. it's the only logical thing to do. no late-night drinks with the colleagues, no stressful trips to some tourist trap. on fridays, al-haitham comes home to a meal made with love.

when al-haitham's at work during the day, you're usually running your actual errands. it's when you have time to make those one-in-a-blue-moon visits to your actual home, although it's getting harder to call it that.

when it gets to the late-afternoon, you'll usually head to al-haitham's place to start cooking. if you didn't know how to cook before, you do now. every ingredient is handled with care, measured meticulously just as you knew he preferred.

and when he gets home, tired and stressed out, you're there to welcome him with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

during dinner, sometimes he'll talk to you about work or the latest research he'd gotten himself immersed with. in return, you tell him about some of your childhood memories. your likes, your dislikes, what used to be your hobbies. you do your best to keep your personal matters out of the conversation, no matter how many times he tries to pry into your private life.

sometimes dinners feel like a full on investigation, the way he keeps greeding for more information about you. he watches you eat with calculating eyes. you pretend to pay no mind to it.

in the beginning, kaveh used to join you for dinners. you always liked the guy, the way he bickered with al-haitham and riled him up. but now you've begun to see less of him, as if he never comes home on fridays at all.

after dinner, there are two different outcomes depending on his mood:

outcome one is that you'll spend the rest of the night curling up on his couch, the both of you immersed in your own books. al-haitham leans on your shoulder as he flips through the pages as if they're nothing. you can't help but feel ticklish whenever his hair brushes against your jaw.

somewhere in the middle, he'll move one hand to start fidgeting with the end of your shirt, sometimes crawling underneath to caress your sides.

outcome two is less quiet. the moment he gets home with that solemn face, you know it's coming. his voice is huskier, his responses shorter. it's usually a result of an impending deadline, colleagues being more peskier than usual.

the moment you two are done with dishes, he gingerly takes your hand and leads you up to the bedroom.

his kisses tastes like green tea and dinner. his hands run up and down your torso, trying to imprint the feel of your skin into every inch of your brain. you whimper when his thumbs press softly into your nipples, rolling them around as they harden.

your hands find purchase on his collar, tugging him impossibly close. he groans at the contact.

you let out a yelp when your back suddenly falls onto the bed. your hands are pressed onto the sheets, al-haitham's fingers encircling your wrists. his knee nudges your legs further apart, rubbing at your clit.

"don't look at the ceiling, dear, look at me," he breathes out, his hands leaving your nipples to gently guide your face towards. "that's it. good girl. just me. just look at me. only me."

he smiles.

"now, let me do god's work on your divine body."

saturdays with ayato can sometimes get hectic. some saturdays you're out getting bubble tea together and enjoying the city, and other saturdays you're hurrying to some publicitiy event hosted by the kamisato clan.

on those type of days, you can expect to wear gowns layered with shiny nylon tulle fabric. it's not as revealing as what you'd try on in dressing rooms with childe. in fact, it's a bit more modest.

today you're wearing a light-blue gown to match with ayato. you turn around to get a good look at the cute bow attached at your waist, your diamond encrusted earrings swaying along with you.

it's as if you've put on another costume. another front to wear for the night.

ayato enters the room just shortly after. in his hands is a diamond necklace to match with your stunning earrings. small smile falls upon his lips when he clasps it on.

"you're beautiful," he mumbles. you giggle when he kisses you square on the lips, licking away the tinted color.

"ayato," you press in-between kisses. you place a hand on his chest to gently push him away. "you're going to ruin my lipstick."

he pulls away with a cheeky smile, taking your wrists to wrap around his neck. "you can always put on some more later."

you pout but kiss him regardless. he tightens his hold on you in reaction, moaning into your mouth.

at these kinds of events, you're there as his plus-one. just so that other officials could stop introducing girls to him when he clearly wasn't interested in them. it'd be arguable to say that you might even be there to make the events a little less intolerable.

somewhere along the lines, you'd sleep with him in addition to being his arm candy at parties. sometimes even before: you two rushing to put on your formal attires and fix your hair minutes before the event started.

but beyond that, you started to get to know him better. he'd whisper into your ear about funny stories relating to the guests as you meet them. sometimes you'd run away in the middle of the party to binge out on the food and talk about your other interests. surprisingly, he doesn't talk about the politics behind his duties as the head of the kamisato family. not as much as you expected, at least.

instead he talks about his dreams for a family. how many kids, what their names would be, how he'd raise them. and as he talked, he'd give you this heavy gaze that you're not sure what to do with. as if he was expecting something from you.

you're beginning to believe that ayato has somehow confused contractual girlfriend with actual girlfriend.

when you had met ayaka months ago, ayato introduced you as his girlfriend. you didn't attempt to correct him—that's ayato's business. not your's. but when you're expecting ayato to come clean to his dearest sister, you're sorely mistaken.

instead, while he kisses your lips so hungrily, he subtly slips a diamond ring onto your finger.

sundays are usually kaeya's days off. although the cavalry captain's duties are seemingly never endless, he takes the day off to take a breather.

in other words, he sees you.

at first, it was just candlelit dinners. he'd walk in with a bouquet of roses, complimenting your dress and staring at you as if he was undressing you with his eyes. he'd take you to somewhere fancy, pull out the chair for you and sweet-talk you all through the night.

conversations were fun with him. you didn't have to think much at all, not about how to pay the bills, the six men in your life who seemingly began to want yours to only revolve around theirs, or being someone your not.

kaeya was probably the only one who you felt you could be comfortable with. he made you laugh, he'd tell all sorts of interesting stories, and he never made the silence feel awkward.

at least, that's how you used to be.

you see, usually after these candlelit dinners you'd both go back to his place, with him ripping off your clothes the moment the door closed. but as of recently, he's been asking to come over to your place instead more often. almost too often.

and that's not the only thing that's changed.

the sex used to be rough. heated. almost as if he was consumed by all of his pent-up sexual frustration and was only focused on getting off. he'd slurp your cunt like a man starved but he'd still rail you as if that's the only thing he cared about.

but as time passed, he's been getting more and more...sensual. the sex is much more slower. personal, almost.

vulnerable.

after dinner, he slowly slips off your clothing. one article after another, until your left in your underwear. he first kisses you on the mouth, then your neck, then your chest, then your stomach. slowly, he makes a trail of them down your body, as if no skin deserved to be left untouched.

although you made a rule that no one could leave your marks on you, it doesn't mean he doesn't try. as he kisses your lower lips, sometimes he'll attempt to leave marks close to your clit. if you're not careful, diluc will find it tomorrow.

his thrusts were always deep, but now that he's much more purposeful about it. it's rhythmic, as if he's trying to reach a new spot inside you. somewhere no one's touched.

the pillow-talks are much more longer as well. he holds you tighter now, wrapping his arms around your hips as he tangles his legs with yours.

instead of ranting on about the silly incidents he witnessed on the job earlier in the week, he talks about his feelings. towards you. towards diluc. towards himself. some nights you can handle it, some nights are too much.

but you can't say anything. not when he's holding onto you like you’re his lifeline. not when he helps you pay off your debt. and so you let his raspy voice whisper in your ear as he combs his fingers through your hair. you listen to him mumble sweet-nothings.

you're not sure if you like the adoring look he gives you as you drift off to sleep.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

felix and his gf being at saltburn and felix noticed ollie acting weird towards her and gets upset at him!!!!!!

The eyes, Chico. || Felix Catton x reader

A/n: YAY TY FOR THE REQUEST! PLS SEND THRU MORE

Warnings: fem!reader, Oliver being a creep, swearing, smoking, if there’s anything else lmk!

Wc: 826

Felix Catton Masterlist

Feeling Felix’s thumb rub circles on your back, you flutter your eyes open and are met with his smile. "Mornin', baby," he greets you, and you respond with a lazy smile, relishing the comforting embrace of his body. His chuckle resonates through his chest, a gentle vibration against you. "It's too early, Felix," you murmur softly, wanting to fall back into slumber.

"Breakfast starts soon, aren't you hungry?" Felix questions, a playful tone lacing his words. You shake your head. "Yes, you are. Don't lie. I can hear your stomach," he asserts with a laugh, and you can't help but crack a smile in response. "Fine," you concede.

You and Felix make your way to the kitchen, where the aroma of breakfast awaits. You greet everyone good morning, almost forgetting that Oliver is here at Saltburn too.

You don’t understand why Felix invited him over; they barely know each other. Even when you confront your boyfriend about it, he just says that he feels bad for him, that he's going through some things at home.

Honestly, he's sort of a strange guy. You always catch him looking away from you when you look at him, around school, his eyes widen the slightest when he sees you walking down the corridors, and then he focuses his gaze on the ground. One time, he even bumped into a pole because he wasn't looking where he was going.

But today, he seems even more odd. The unease is palpable as you sit down at the table. The morning sun streams through the windows, casting a warm glow on the scene.

As you and Felix engage in light morning banter, you catch Oliver staring at you. His gaze is intense, lingering longer than is comfortable. At first, you dismiss it, thinking maybe he's just lost in thought. However, the oddity of his behavior becomes more apparent as the meal progresses.

Oliver’s eyes follow your every move, and you feel an unsettling awareness of his gaze on you. It’s as if his attention is fixated solely on you. You exchange a glance with Felix, who seems oblivious to Oliver’s strange behavior at first.

You try to focus on your plate, on the conversation with Felix, but the weight of Oliver’s gaze is distracting. It’s not the kind of attention you want or need, especially coming from a guy who's already odd enough.

You try to enjoy breakfast, but the uneasy feeling persists. Oliver’s eyes seem to follow you, and you sense a strange tension in the air. However, as the minutes pass, even Felix begins to sense the unease in the air.

“You alright, Ollie?” Felix's timely interjection is a relief. Oliver shifts his focus from you to Felix and responds with a casual, "Hm? Oh, yeah. I'm good." A smile graces his face as he savors a spoonful of breakfast as your eyes flicker between the two, watching the interaction. You can't help but wonder if Venetia or Farleigh picked up on the awkward tension in the air.

As breakfast concludes, you can’t shake off the lingering discomfort. “Remind me why you brought Oliver to Saltburn again?” You question your boyfriend beside you as you continue your skincare routine.

Felix, sensing the need for discretion, swiftly moves to the door leading to Oliver's room. "Shh, don't be so loud," he cautions in a hushed tone, closing the door behind him with a sense of urgency.

"Darling, I know he's been acting weird—" Felix begins, coming up behind you, but you swiftly cut him off. "Oh, he's been acting more than weird. I could barely focus at breakfast with his eyes on me," you huff, applying sunscreen to your face, preparing for a day out in the sun by the lake. The tension in the air is palpable as you address the unease surrounding Oliver's peculiar behavior.

"I know, I know. He just has a... tendency to stare. He's probably admiring how gorgeous you are. Aren't you used to the stares?" He bends down to kiss your cheek, and you roll your eyes in response.

"He should know it's rude to stare," you say in a sing-song voice as you pack up your skincare products. "Don't mind him," Felix adds, his large hands wrapping around your bare stomach, giving your hips a slight squeeze.

The hot temperature outside and the high UV ray lead you, Venetia, Farleigh, Felix, and Oliver outside to lounge by the lake. As you settle on the blanket, the odd tension with Oliver becomes more pronounced. He positions himself nearby, and you catch him stealing glances at you.

It’s not the casual glances friends share; they're lingering, intense stares that make you uneasy. You exchange puzzled glances with Venetia, both of you trying to make sense of Oliver’s peculiar behavior.

“That Oliver has a staring problem, doesn’t he?” Venetia comments, readjusting her sunglasses that sit on her nose. “You saw the stares this morning right?” You turn your head towards her as she does the same. “I think everyone could sense the awkwardness between you two.”

You sigh, closing your eyes and turning your head back. “He’s so strange. I still can’t wrap my head around why Felix invited him here.” You try to focus on the conversation with Venetia, hoping to ignore Oliver’s odd glances. However, his behavior persists.

As you and Venetia engage in conversation by the lounge chairs, Oliver’s attention seems solely fixed on you. It’s as if he’s not present in the moment, lost in his own thoughts. The picturesque surroundings lose their charm as the atmosphere becomes charged with an unspoken tension.

“Is he looking,” You say lowly to Venetia, who discreetly looks behind you before humming. “Fucks sake,” You groan, turning your head only to find his eyes looking at his hands. Rolling your eyes, you gravitate your gaze to Felix right beside you.

Felix, sensing the unease, stands up to move his chair closer to yours, a protective gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed, especially when he places his large hand on your thigh. You appreciate his presence, but the situation with Oliver casts a shadow over what should have been a carefree day by the lake.

The discomfort peaks when you decide to take a break and lie down on the blanket, soaking up the sun’s warmth. Venetia joins you, and you both close your eyes, attempting to find solace in the peaceful surroundings.

However, Oliver’s peculiar behavior doesn’t wane. As you lie there, eyes closed, you sense his eyes on you, a prickling awareness that mars the tranquility of the moment. You open your eyes to find Oliver glancing at you again, a furtive gaze that makes you uneasy.

Venetia, too, notices the strange dynamic and shoots you a concerned look. You spot Farleigh and Felix in deep conversation, Farleigh glancing at Oliver from time to time before giving you a look, silently communicating the shared discomfort.

“Fuck this, I’m going to take a bath,” You mutter annoyed as everyone watches you get up from your towel. Perching your sunglasses on your head, you walk over to Felix. “I’m going to take a bath,” You lean down to kiss him as he hums.

“I’ll come join you in a sec,” He says, his hands toying with the strings on your bikini bottoms. With a brief exchange of nods, you make your way back to Saltburn and to Felix’s bathroom, which connected to Oliver’s room.

The cold water is already calling your name, promising respite from the tension that clings to the air. Closing the door behind you, you take a deep breath, hoping the solitude of the bath will provide the sanctuary you need.

Little do you know that the shadows of unease follow you into the bathroom. As you start to run the water, the events of the morning replay in your mind. The odd glances, the tension at breakfast—all of it weaves into a disconcerting tapestry.

Stripping off your bikini-clad body, you let out a moan of relief when your warm body makes contact with the cold water. Lighting up a cigarette, another sigh of relief escapes you.

Unbeknownst to you, Felix decides to retrieve something from Oliver’s room. As he opens the door, the scene before him freezes him in his tracks. Oliver, standing too close, is peering through the crack of the bathroom door, watching you in the bath.

Felix’s initial surprise gives way to a flash of anger. “What the fuck, Ollie?” he exclaims, his voice cutting through the silence. Your heart skips a beat as you hear the commotion outside. You hear Felix yelling as you quickly get out the tub, wrapping a robe around your naked body before emerging from the bathroom.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He screams as Oliver stammers, caught red-handed, unable to form a coherent response. You move beside Felix, rubbing your hand up and down his arm, trying to ease him down.

“You can’t just invade someone’s privacy like that,” Felix continues, his tone sharp. “What were you thinking, watching through the door like some creep?” His eyes were blown out, his face red as Oliver just stood there distressed.

“That’s so fucked up, Oliver.” You say quietly, though your tone and glare were ice cold. Oliver, looking sheepish and guilty, attempts to explain himself. “I-I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.”

Felix’s frustration deepens, and he points out, “Sorry is going to cut it, mate. What’s been going on with you? The staring, the weird glances—it’s not normal, man. We’re supposed to be friends. She’s my girlfriend, and you’ve been creeping her the fuck out!”

The room is charged with tension as the two friends face off. Felix, normally calm and collected, is visibly shaken by the breach of trust. You stand there, wrapped in a towel, feeling a mixture of concern and disgust for Oliver and an urge to comfort Felix.

Oliver, fumbling for words, finally admits, “Y/n, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I messed up, and I completely understand if you’re mad.” Felix lets out a dark laugh, throwing his head back as Oliver gulps.

“Mate, we’re more than just mad. What you did is so fucking wrong,” Felix spat as Oliver says nothing but nods his head lightly. "I think it’s best if you leave, Ollie," you tighten the robe around your body as Felix lets out a deep sigh, running his hands through his hair as Ollie nods, his gaze on the ground.

“Of course. I’m sorry again,” he apologizes as you give him one final look, grabbing Felix’s arm and pulling him with you back into the bathroom. Felix looks over his shoulder at Oliver, slamming the door shut and locking it.

[sistertotheknowitall]

Danny is Some Guy with a not so secret admirer.

Part four? Post #four? I don’t know, none of these are exactly in order. Post one, post two, post three.

——

By the time Tim opened the door, Danny had his coffee made and handed to Mia at the register. He resolutely ignored her smug face and went back to making the other orders.

Tim had been a regular long before Danny had started at the coffee shop but it was three days into Danny’s third week when Tim had stumbled in at eight a.m. and did a double take upon seeing Danny. A very obvious double take followed by intense staring before Mia had cleared her throat. The blush that lit up Tim’s face was only rivaled by the one on Danny’s.

He had never had anyone openly stare at him before.

Mia had been insufferable ever since.

It also didn’t help that shortly after their first meeting Tim had started taking his breaks at the little coffee shop. It’s been three weeks, nearly a month and Wayne Enterprise’s CEO went from a bi-weekly regular to an everyday one. (Danny wondered if he should be concerned for the man’s caffeine intake but he only had the one cup every time so probably not.)

Originally, Danny had no plans to talk to Tim. It seemed obvious the guy had a crush on Danny if the constant looks over his laptop were anything to go by and Danny didn’t want to encourage it. Danny barely had time to make new friends let alone start a relationship.

There was also the added problem of what was quickly becoming his bat stalkers. How do you explain to someone that you were being watched by Gotham’s vigilante’s for no reason? (Or worse because he had made a poorly timed sleep-deprived comment.) Danny didn’t think you could without seeming suspicious.

Incidentally though, Danny’s plan went out the window when on a slow afternoon as he was cleaning tables and passed behind Tim. Once he saw the article the other man was reading he snorted.

Bruce Wayne and The Batman? Could This Be A New Romance For Gothams Most Beloved Billionaire?

It was one of those gossip rags that printed things like: Elvis: alive and well and Superman: a mild mannered farm boy? It was all nonsense.

Danny asked Tim why he bothered with the site and Tim responded that he found it amusing to read and that his family had a group chat where they sent the articles to each other.

“Okay. But Batman? Really? Your dad could do so much better.”

“You don’t like Batman?” Tim asked. Danny had slid into the chair next to him and shrugged. “I respect what he does but for as intimidating as he is, he also seems a little silly.”

Tim had given him an incredulous look and Danny hadn’t given him time to ask for an explanation, “and his kids can be just as rude. Like that flying monkey one.” Tim choked on air and Danny politely waited for him to calm down. “Kids? Wait - flying monkey one? Which one -?”

“The one always doing back flips with the blue bird symbol. He’s also a dick that gives hypocritical lectures about fighting.” Danny wouldn’t say he hated the guy but he wasn’t sure how many more lectures he could endure before going ghost and fighting him.

Tim had turned to Danny completely and was watching him with a look of disbelief, “you mean Nightwing?”

“Is that his name? Imma call him Dickwing.”

Tim had started choking again, this time Danny patted his back hoping to help. Yet it was all for not once he kept talking, “I think I’ve only had positive interactions with the one who looks like a walking red flag.”

“Red flag? Do you men hood-?”

“No, although he is definitely a red flag, I mean the other Red one. I’m sorry, I don’t know all these peoples names yet.”

“Danny!” Mia called.

Danny stood and patted Tim, who looked a little shell-shocked, on the shoulder. “Well work calls, see you later Mr. Drake-Wayne.” As he walked away he heard Tim mutter “it’s just Tim.”

(Tim for his part, placed his head in his hands and thought, well at least I have his name now.)

After that first interaction Tim stopped playing the lurker and started to actually talk to Danny and vise versa. Danny never asked if he still had a crush on him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Unfortunately, their growing friendship had only encoraged Mia as she happily sang “your boyfriend’s here!”

Danny, very maturely, did not stick his tongue out at her. He did however flip her off under the counter like an adult.

[hairmetal666]

It's 3am. It's pouring down rain. Steve's soaked to the skin, been wandering the city for most of the night, hasn't slept in almost 24 hours, thinks maybe he's on the brink of delirium, and then a truck hits a pool of ponded water, sending a muddy wave cascading over him.

He just wants to go home but Dustin lost his dog and he can't leave a puppy out in this weather.

Steve steps off the curb, and what looks like a shallow puddle turns out to be a water-filled hole. He crashes towards the pavement, nothing he can do to stop it. As fast he's falling, he's miraculously not, arms wrapped around his waist. It takes a second for his brain to catch up, to understand that he's being held upright in an old-fashioned, romantic dip.

"Careful, sweetheart," a deep and smoke raspy voice says from above him.

it sends chills down his spine, the good kind, and warmth slips through him. His rescuer is a solid 10 knockout. Long, curly hair; eyeliner; decked out in leather and studs and chains. He smells like booze and cigarettes and weed, and it's intoxicating. Steve has to fight the instinct to nuzzle the guy's leather jacket. He's beautiful, holds Steve with the swagger only a guy with rings on every finger could pull off.

And Steve is a mud soaked mess in sweatpants and a threadbare Hawkins High tee. But the guy holding him isn't letting go. He stares down at Steve, brown eyes wide.

"Steve!" A voice calls over the patter of the rain.

"Dustin?" He says at the same time that the man holding him says, "Henderson?"

"Eddie?" Dustin asks.

"Wait, dnd Eddie?" Steve gets his feet under him, but Eddie's arms don't drop.

"You're the famous babysitter Steve I've been hearing all about?"

They gape at each other until Dustin reaches them.

"What are you still doing out here?" Dustin shouts. "We found Dart hours ago."

"Dustin!" He thinks he might cry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You weren't answering your walkie!"

"Fuck." Steve drops his face to his hand. The walkie. Which is on the table by the front door where he and Robin leave their keys.

Steve swallows his frustration, the misery of waterlogged shoes, having to be up to open the store in a few hours, meeting the hottest guy he's ever seen when he looks like a drowned rat.

"I promised I'd find Dart, didn't I? Now what the hell are you doing out so late?"

"Mom and I were looking for you!"

"Let's get you back to the car, man, okay?" Steve says to Dustin. He wants to end this weird, terrible, embarrassing night before it gets even more humiliating.

"I can give you a ride home," Eddie says. He's got this weird, intense look on his face, staring at Steve.

"I'm only a few blocks away. I'll be fine. C'mon, Henderson."

"Oh, I can walk him. You head home."

He nods, starts towards his apartment, but turns back just in time to see Eddie and Dustin share a look he can't parse.

---

A few days later, Dustin's following him around at work, chattering about dnd as Steve shelves books, and without taking a breath during a soliloquy about owl bears, says, "Eddie's running a one-shot for us next week. You should come! It's a great way to get into the game."

"I'm not playing dnd," Steve answers. He slides a book onto the shelf. "I've told you this."

"Yeah, but you liked Eddie, right? He'd help you out!"

Steve squints at the kid. "I didn't really meet Eddie to know. Anyway, I'm sure he doesn't want a newbie crashing."

Steve is pretty sure Eddie doesn't like him, based on their short introduction, so he's not interested in forcing himself into the guy's dnd club. The night they met was humiliating enough, Steve in all his dorky glory.

"No, he totally wouldn't care. C'mon, Steve!"

"No can do." He ruffles Dustin's hair as he walks away.

He thinks that'll be the end of it, but every few days, for weeks Dustin and all the rest of the kids stop at the store to beg him to join their dnd club.

---

Steve is working the register and he hears the shuffling clank of a customer, looks up and finds Eddie. He's staring at Steve with that same look from the night they met, intense and piercing, cutting straight through the heart of him. He feels himself start to blush.

The first thing out of Eddie's mouth is, "Wait, this is your store?"

"Yeah?" Steve asks. "Is that--is that weird?"

"No! Not at all. It's a good store. Cute." His nose wrinkles when he says it and Steve's blush grows hotter. He knew Eddie thought he was a dork.

"Cute. Yeah. Right. Can I help you with something?"

Eddie rocks back on his heels, hands going to the pockets of his leather jacket, sending his chains jingling. "Oh, so, actually I wanted to see if you were busy?"

"Yeah, man. I'm busy." He laughs, doesn't intend to be mean about it, but he and Robin only opened the store six months ago and both take night classes at the local community college. Plus, everything he does with the kids.

Eddie's face flushes bright. "Oh, sure, of course. Yeah, I--I'll see you around."

The door thunks to a close behind him, and a voice immediately pops up to ask, "What the hell was that?"

He turns to find Max Mayfield hands on hips, glaring up at him, Robin close behind.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

Max rolls her eyes and strides up to the counter. "Why were you an asshole to Eddie?"

"He started it!"

"I highly doubt that."

"Okay, Ms. Know-it-all, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I know for a fact that Eddie came in today to ask you out. So, tell me, Steve Harrington, why he rushed out of here looking like a kicked puppy?"

"What?" He yelps. "Eddie doesn't even like me!"

She glares. "Doesn't like you? He's been pathetic about you since you met."

He gapes at Robin. "Don't look at me," she shrugs. "But that guy was definitely here to ask you out."

"Fix it." Max commands as she stomps out the door. "He bar tends at that metal place on 68th."

---

It's just after 9pm and he's at the metal bar on 68th, decidedly out of place in the yellow t-shirt and jeans he wore to his business accounting class.

It's fairly busy for a weeknight, but Eddie's not hard to find. He's obviously in his element, bobbing his head to a song Steve's never heard as he mixes a drink.

With a hard swallow and a healthy dose of humility, he walks up to the bar.

"Be right--" Eddie starts, balking when he notices Steve.

"Can we talk?" he shouts over the music.

Eddie's eyes widen a little, but he nods, slips out from behind the bar to guide him to an employee exit.

"What's up, Steve?" Eddie asks. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders bowed in.

"I wanted to apologize."

"What for?"

"Earlier, I--when you said the store was cute I thought you were making fun of me."

"But--why?"

"I thought you didn't like me." Steve cringes at the admission.

"What?" He laughs.

"I don't know. We met in the middle of the night and I was covered in mud looking for a dog that wasn't lost anymore."

"Steve. Holy shit." Eddie shakes his head. "You looked gorgeous that night. The way your clothes were sticking--you know what? Never mind. Did you think I wanted you to come to dnd because I hated you?"

"You wanted me to come?"

"Dustin didn't..."

"No! And he's been asking me to play dnd weekly for the past five years."

"Jesus Christ," Eddie slumps agains the brick wall at his back. "No wonder you turned me down today."

"To be fair," Steve slumps next to him. "If I had realized you were asking me out, I wouldn't have turned you down."

"No?" Eddie asks. His brown eyes gleam.

"Definitely not. I've had a crush on you since that night. Sort of devastating since I thought you didn't like me." Steve runs his hand through his hair, watches Eddie track the movement.

"The store is cute, Steve. I--uh--I've been a few times. Back before I knew you were the owner! I just kept seeing a hot employee with great hair and a perfect ass, and the vaguely mean lesbian barista gives me free drinks."

"That's Robin," Steve says. He's smiling so hard.

"I know that now," Eddie smiles back. "Sorry for being an idiot."

"Me too." Steve nods. "Do you--could I still come to dnd? Or take you out sometime?"

"Why not both?" Dimples pop on Eddie's cheeks, and Steve's heart flips.

"I like both." They're still against the wall, but drifting into each other's space.

"So Dustin said."

It surprises a laugh out of Steve. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Too bad. He's a nice kid."

"Eh, we've got six more to choose from."

"I have a few more hours here, but there's a diner down the street that does some of the most mediocre pancakes I've ever tasted. Meet me there? Around 2?"

"A thousand lost puppies wouldn't make me miss it."

The next time Steve is out at 3am he's pressed against a building, Eddie kissing him so thoroughly he knows he's never recovering from this one.

[jasminesfury]

messy chaotic ‘we’re terrible for each other but can’t keep our hands off each other’ prompts

oh hello i am in fact alive

“do you ever actually think before speaking? like is your brain capable of processing a thought??” “yeah, it’s just immune to idiotic ones”

“take that back” “prove me wrong” (or; a cliché ‘make me’)

being in some sort of intense slightly pointless staring match (after an argument, preferably) and just saying “oh fuck it who cares” and pulling their neck down to kiss them

“do you the sex would be boring if we didn’t argue before it every time?” “i mean, we could always argue during”

^or, alt: doing it once when you’re not arguing instead kinda tipsy but not drunk, and it’s all giggles and laughter and sweet nothings and the next morning being like “oh fuck i actually like them”

“why does everything with you have to be so difficult!?” “it’s fun getting you all riled up”

“oh, if i had known that’s all it would take for you to shut up i would’ve done this ages ag-“ “only finish that sentence if you have a death wish”

“you’re doing it wrong” “jesus, would you just relax” “no because i’m wasting my tim- oh, oh my god-” the other character smirking, “don’t look so smug” “i think i’ve earned the right, now just trust me, okay? believe it or not, i want to make you feel good”

“so you’ll finally stop being an asshole and just sign the document?” “keep doing this and i’ll sell you my house”

getting jealous and the other character pretending that it’s unreasonable, but secretly character A is the only one they feel a spark with. the only one they feel excited to be around

“we should probably stop this” “yeah” … “we’re not going to though, right?” “oh absolutely not”

“nope no nada, no using sex to get me to do things you want, it’s not going to work anymore”

“you really are a fucking asshole aren’t you?” “yes, i believe that’s what’s on my resume”

“i hate you” “i know” “and that won’t change” “i know” “and you’re still okay with this?” no “yes”

“imagine a universe where we didn’t hate each other, that would be so-“ “boring?” “yeah! like imagine not bickering over tiny things, that’s no fun”

“she says we bicker like an old married couple”

talking with a friend; “you shouldn’t go there” “i know” “and you shouldn’t sleep with them” “i know” “it’s a bad idea” “i know” “well. will you?” “..yeah”

“i know we’re terrible for each other but every time i look at them it’s just like my brain flies out the window and my hormones take over”

“we’re broken up, it’s just two friends going out for drinks, okay?” ending up in one’s bed, but alright

“did you sleep together?” “noooo, i just-“ “tripped on a stone and accidentally dailed his number which magically led to you two meeting at a pub and you just magically teleported to your bedroom without your clothes on? yeah, thought so”

[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.

[cherryredcheol]

quiet time

tldr: what exactly is he staring at? a/n: this is an ode to my own headphones. thank you for everything you do. (none of this would exist without you)

you think the best thing vernon ever did for your relationship was buy you your own pair of noise-canceling headphones. not only was it cute that you two had a subtle way of matching, but the gift was the catalyst for what you two called “quiet time”. 

you knew vernon needed his alone time. knew he needed time with his headphones on and music blasting in his ears, in his own world. you were happy to give him the space and do your own thing. when you opened the headphones he had given you, you weren't really sure you’d use them, perfectly happy with your small earbuds. the large headset seemed excessive. however, you quickly got the appeal after using them for the first time.

now every time you two hung out, you’d have quiet time. each doing your own thing, existing in the same space but not interacting with each other. hair getting flatter on both your heads as the band of the headphones pressed down. 

today you were sat on opposite ends of the couch, several feet of space between you both. you were absorbed in a game on your phone. he couldn’t help but stare at you, the music blasting into his own ears becoming background noise as he focused on you. he loved seeing you in those headphones, pleased to no end when he sees how well you use them. when he bought you the exact same pair that he had, he was nervous they would get mixed up but that fear was put to bed when you promptly decorated yours with little stickers, saying they needed to be “cuter” and as he stares at those stickers now, he can confirm you’re cute, but it might not be the headphone’s doing. 

you could feel vernon’s gaze on you, you’d felt it for minutes now. no longer able to stand it, you turned your head to him, pulling the headphones down to rest around the back of your neck. 

“why are you staring at me like that?” 

vernon pulled his own headphones down, unphased, “what?” 

you huffed, “why are you staring at me so intensely? it's creeping me out.” 

he smiled easily, “i just love you so much, bug.” 

you rolled your eyes, pulling the headphones back up, “well knock it off, you’re distracting me from my game.”

vernon just continued to stare, not missing the soft blush on your cheeks and little smile tugging on your lips as you tried to focus on the small screen in your hands. unsuccessful, you turned your head again pushing the headphones just off the ear closest to vernon, "for real stop staring. i need to beat this level before i can even think about making dinner so if you want to eat soon, you’ll look away.” 

laughing, vernon crawled closer to you, closing the distance between you two on the couch. wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he pulled you closer and whispered in your exposed ear, “i’ll wait forever for dinner if it means i can keep looking at you.”