#aurora is back on her bullshit

[blackshadowswriter]

Make It Better┃ Matt Murdock

Summary: You've had nothing but bad experiences with men and periods, something Matt will not stand. He's determined to make it better for you, and oh, he succeeded.

Words: 3,840

CW: period stigma (dickhead men being assholes about periods), smut (nipple play, clit stimulation, praise kink, aftercare)

AN: I've been seeing quite a few period comfort fics with Matt on here, and the writers were all like "my period just started, so I wanted to write this," and like, are our cycles all aligned? Because me too bitches, and I decided to join the party ✌

Periods. Menstruation. That time of the month.

Call it what you want. There was no disguising the harsh truth once a girl got hers—that periods were plain misery.

Your old Sunday school teachers from middle school when your parents dragged you to church told all the girls how their monthly menstruations were a blessing from God, a sign of fertility and womanhood. All of the class had gazed up at the nun preaching this with expression ranging from amazement to apprehension to downright horror.

You were one of the last group, and you had found out soon enough that you were right. Despite all the praises that nun had sang to God for "blessing" the girls with their periods, there was no hiding the fact that periods were downright torture.

There you were on a Friday night in the present, thinking of that nun and her insistent voice ringing with memory in the back of your head: "Remember, girls, always thank God when your monthly menstruation begins for God has blessed you with fertility of a woman."

Bullshit. Absolute fucking bullshit, you thought.

And there you were, curled up in bed, cursing that nun in your head with language that could have given the aurora borealis a run for its money.

Dull throbs of agony worked its way from your lower abdomen all the way through your body, resonating to your back, to your chest, to your thighs. You were tangled up in the sheets in the fetal position, unwilling to move any more than was necessary at the moment even though such movement would be inevitable. You'd already ran through three tampons, and your period had just started this afternoon.

The first and second days were always the worst.

A miserable noise escaped your lips as you rolled over slightly onto your boyfriend's side of the bed. Speaking of which, he should be back from work soon—

The sound of the front door opening met your ears, paired with the familiar tap of a cane echoing through the living room to the open door of the bedroom.

"Sweetheart, I'm home!"

Any other day, the low timber of Matt's voice would have had you springing up from the bed or the couch or wherever you'd nestled and racing into his arms. Today, however, you simply burrowed further into the bed, groaning.

"Sweetheart?" Matt appeared at the doorway, the concerned furrow of his brows evident as he made his way to your side. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just...bad day," you mumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow you had buried your face in, unwilling to face the embarrassment of telling Matt what was going on. While the two of you had been dating for months now, this was the first time you'd gotten your period since you moved into Matt's apartment with him. This was an unfortunate side issue you admittedly hadn't been thought about when you agreed.

"Yeah?" The bed dipped down slightly where Matt sat down next to you. His calloused fingers were in your hair a second later, gently scratching your scalp. The heavenly feeling of his hands in your hair usually had you purring and curling against him, but all it did today was make you whine. "Tell me about it then?"

You sighed softly, shifting your position as you uncurled your legs to stretch them out. "Just everything bad in genera—Matt? You alright?"

He had gone stiff, his blank eyes darting around and his mouth set in a hard line. In a second, his hands were around your waist, hauling you up from the bed and dragging your form towards him.

A disgruntled huff flew from your lips at the sudden movement. You wound up in Matt's lap, which was something you usually wouldn't protest against, but the situation in your bitch of a uterus sent a fresh wave of pain stabbing in your abdomen. "Matt!" you complained. "What's going on?"

"Where is it?" Matt demanded, his ever gentle hands roaming up and down your waist and skimming across the sides of your thighs as if looking for something. "Who did it to you?"

"Did what?" you asked in confusion.

"I can smell it," he growled, teeth slightly bared as he hunted for the perceived threat. "Who hurt you?"

"N-no one hurt me," you said, utterly bewildered, watching him search for any sign of injury along your body even though there was none. Perhaps this was just a clever ploy to feel you up. You reached up to tap the side of his cheek. "I think your bat senses are acting up, Matt."

He softened at your touch, but his hands remained persistent, roaming across your legs. Oddly enough, his touch was centered in the general area of your hips and thighs as he skimmed for any hurt. That was only further cementing your theory of him just trying to get handsy. "I can smell your blood, sweetheart," he rumbled. "Where are you hurt? Tell me who did it to you."

You froze. "Y-you...can...smell..."

Matt's head tilted to the side. "There's blood around the area of your thighs," he murmured. "Who hurt you?"

Realization washed over you like a bucket of icy cold water. You slumped forward with a groan, pressing your palms to your forehead. Embarrassment was searing its way through your face, turning your cheeks bright red. "No, Matt, no," you sighed, grimacing as you searched for a way to explain. "I'm not hurt. No one hurt me. I'm...I'm fine."

"I can smell blood," he insisted. "You're hurt."

"I'm not hurting," you groaned, tipping your head forward to bury it in your hands, wincing when the movement only amplified your cramps.

Matt's brow furrowed as he tilted his head further towards your chest. Oh shit, you thought as you realized he was listening to your heartbeat, likely hearing the lie in your words that you weren't hurting while your cramps were mowing down every nerve in your fucking uterus.

His hand stilled on your left thigh, and he slowly rubbed a circle into your skin with his thumb. "Why won't you tell me, sweetheart?" he asked softly. "I can tell you're in pain, I can smell the endorphins. What's wrong?"

You flopped backwards onto the bed with a wince. "'M not hurt," you mumbled sullenly. "They're just cramps."

"Cramps?"

Burying your face underneath to pillow as if it would hide you from your humiliation, you grumbled, ""M on my period, Matt."

Your legs were still resting across Matt's lap, so you felt the moment he stilled at your words. You cringed beneath the pillow, waiting for one of the inevitable responses you had heard from men all the time: ew, that's disgusting, get off me, go away—

"Oh," he said softly, a faint note of what sounded like relief in his voice. That made no sense; why would he be relieved? He should be disgusted, he should be grossed out, he should be telling you to get off his bed.

The bed shifted around you, and Matt's legs slid out from underneath you. Your eyes closed in resignment, but at least him just leaving was better than him kicking you out, you decided.

Instead, an strong arm snaked around your waist, and the comforting feel of Matt's warm weight was draped across your back. He pulled you into his chest, spooning you as he wrapped his arms around your scrunched-up form. His lips ghosted across the side of your neck to press a kiss along your jawline.

"Oh, sweetheart," he sighed in your ear. "Are you alright?"

Your brain took a few seconds to adjust to the fact that Matt was still here, Matt hadn't run away, he hadn't asked you to leave, he was cuddling with you instead of treating you like some disgusting animal, he was still here—

You frowned and rolled over onto your back to look up at him. "Why aren't you running away?"

"Why would I?" Matt asked, confused. His tone, sincere as it was, only served to befuddle you even further. He really, truly saw no reason to leave you. How?

"I'm on my period," you said slowly as if his radar hearing hadn't heard it loud and clear the first time.

Matt nuzzled his face against your neck, tangling his legs with yours. "And?" he murmured sleepily.

"I thought...are you not, you know...grossed out?"

"Why would I?" he asked again, his fingers coming up to stroke the side of your face. "It's just blood, isn't it? Sweetheart, you can't possibly think that blood would scare me away? I bleed every night." His voice was tinged with amusement.

"It's different," you mumbled, turning to hide your face against his throat, pleasantly surprised when he let you. Gentle hands slid up into your hair, stroking the back of your head tenderly.

Matt hummed in disagreement. "How so? Blood's blood."

"It's..." You huffed out a sigh of frustration. "God, Matt, do I really have to explain how periods work to you?"

"I did pass high school biology, thank you very much," Matt laughed.

"Then you do know that my bitch of a uterus is currently pouring buckets of blood out my fucking vagina?"

An amused smirk lifted the corner of his lips up. "That wasn't exactly how they phrased it in school, but I guess the general idea was the same."

"How are you still here?" you demanded. "Why aren't you leaving? Or kicking me out of the bed or—or—"

A dark shadow crossed Matt's face, any trace of humor disappearing from his expression. He licked his lips slowly, and when he spoke, his words were tainted with restrained anger that you understood wasn't directed at you. "Have others done that to you before? They kicked you out of the bed?"

"Um...well, all of my exes were grossed out," you mumbled, watching the corner of Matt's lips tighten in displeasure. You had no idea why he was so angered by this new information—was that not how all men treated periods? "Some just had varying levels of reactions."

Matt curled his lip, teeth clenching and eyes burning with fiery fury. "I hope none of them ever find themselves in Hell's Kitchen," he said darkly. "Or I'll be having a talk with them at night."

You had no doubt Matt wasn't referring to a nice little innocent-blind-lawyer-here-to-help talk. Most definitely, more of a break-your-bones-as-the-devil kind of talk.

"Why?" you asked, infinitely confused. "I mean...I thought it was normal for guys to, you know...react like that."

Matt scoffed harshly. "No," he growled. "Those exes of yours are all assholes." He stroked the side of your face tenderly and dipped his head down to kiss you, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the anger thrumming below the surface in his body. You tilted your head up to return the kiss, your head still caught up on the fact that holy shit, he was still here, he hadn't run away.

"I love you," you sighed against his lips, feeling him soften against you.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he murmured. Matt nuzzled against your neck, trailing kisses along your throat as he entwined his legs with yours. His arm slid firmly around your waist and pulled you into his chest, kissing your lips again.

Eyes fluttering shut, you relaxed in Matt's arms, savoring in the feel of his heavenly soft lips against yours. You were just getting comfortable, all cuddled up against him when another vicious cramp rolled across your stomach. A sharp whine at the pain falling from your lips broke the kiss as you drew your legs up to your chest with a miserable groan.

You rolled over, burying your face in the pillow. "Stupid—fucking—cramps," you hissed.

Matt rubbed your back sympathetically. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said softly. "I wish I could make it better." You could hear the frustration at his helplessness in this situation bleeding into his voice.

"Yeah, I wish you could too," you mumbled, pressing the heel of your palm against your closed eyes as if the darkness would minimize your pain. Alas, it did nothing except make little stars pop up behind your eyelids from how hard you dug your hands in. "It's fine, Matt. This happens every month. I'll live. I'll just...ride this out until it's done."

"I don't like it," Matt grumbled. "I don't like you being in pain.

"'You can't do anything about it," you reminded him gently, shifting in bed to look at him, hiding a grimace at the throbbing cramps the movement brought. You reached up to brush your fingers along his cheek. "It's not like you can go all Daredevil on my uterus. Which wouldn't exactly help anyways."

A thoughtful hum vibrated against your skin as Matt pressed a kiss to your shoulder, running his fingers along your arm. After a few moments of consideration, he said quietly, "You know...I read something the other day. About periods."

"Yeah?" You lifted a teasing eyebrow that you knew he could feel if not see. "And what exactly, Mr. Murdock, were you doing reading about periods?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Doesn't really matter," he said evasively, and your eyebrows traveled further up your forehead. "I read that oxytocin can help relieve period cramps."

"And?"

"And..." Matt nudged you over on your back, hovering his body over yours and dipping down to kiss you. "You know what releases oxytocin?"

"'M—not a—scientist—Matt," you complained as he started pecking you on the lips like a fucking bird. "I don't know—cuddling probably?"

"Mhm," he agreed, easing up on his insistent pecking and trailing his lips down to your throat. "That's one. What else?"

"You're not my 9th grade biology teacher," you huffed, grimacing through more cramps and drawing in a pained breath through clenched teeth. "What else releases oxytocin then, professor?"

Matt lifted his head from your neck, and the devilish grin he flashed you was practically dripping with sin. "Orgasms," he said with a perfectly innocent face.

You blinked. "Wha—Matt!"

Your question dissolved into a yelp when Matt yanked you towards him suddenly, bracing himself on his elbows over you, one of his hands cupping your jaw as he kissed you languidly. His insistent tongue slid into your mouth the second you opened it to him, the molten heat of him melting into you. Despite yourself, you let out a strangled moan, your own hands reaching up for him.

"Matt," you panted against his lips. "I can't—I'm sorry—not right now, I'm on my period."

"Oh sweetheart." He cradled the side of your face in one hand and slid his hand down to your thigh thigh, hiking your leg up around his hip before dipping his head down towards yours, his lips hovering an inch from yours. "You don't think that'll stop me, do you?"

"Mhm," you mumbled between his kisses. "Matt—'M bleeding—'s not gonna be pretty—"

"Well, lucky for me, that won't be a problem, will it?" Matt asked, that hungry, ridiculously hot smirk cropping up again as he dragged your lips back to his, hands gliding up across your waist. You had gone to bed in a pair of panties and an oversized shirt, and clearly, Matt was taking advantage of your lack of clothing.

Not that you were complaining in the slightest.

But the fact still stood that there was enough blood pouring out of you to fill the goddamn Nile River.

It was hard to form a coherent thought between Matt's insistent kisses and his exploring hands, and you wanted nothing more than to just melt into his arms and let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to do to you. Normally, that was a good enough plan but not on your period. You would bleed all over Matt's silk sheets, and you didn't think Matt could handle the smell nor you the embarrassment.

"Matt," you whined as his hands got more adventurous, sliding up underneath your shirt to gently massage at your skin.

"Shh," he murmured, nipping lightly at your neck while one of his large, calloused hands found their way up to your breasts. You arched into his touch when he brushed his fingers softly over your nipples, a breathy moan escaping your lips despite yourself. "Just let me take of you, okay? Let me make it better for you, sweetheart. Let me help you. Can you do that for me, honey?"

"I—fuck," you gasped when he rolled your nipple between his fingers, your sensitive body reacting instantly to his touch. Heat coiled between your legs, and you automatically tried to squeeze them together, but Matt was still cradled between your thighs.

But he felt the way you clenched around his broad hips, a low chuckle sounding in your ear. "Sounds like you want it, sweetheart," he mused, switching to cup your other breast in his hand with a reverent murmur of your name. "Don't fight it—it's okay. Let me make it better, okay?"

"Fuck," you groaned, instinctively grinding your hips upwards into Matt's. "Yes, yes, okay. Fuck, yes, Matt."

The sinful smile he gave you made it all worth it. "Good girl," he praised softly, grin only widening when you whimpered at the name. "Let's get this off now, hmm?" he purred, tugging at your shirt.

All too eager, you practically ripped it off your body with a panting groan as Matt lowered himself down so that his body molded against yours, the almost burning heat of his mouth gliding up across your stomach to your breasts. He sucked one gently, swirling his tongue around your oversensitive nipple before switching to the other while you moaned above him. Your breathless gasps of his name only urged him on further as his fingers danced down towards the waistband of your panties, skimming across the soft skin of your hip.

"Matt," you groaned when he curled his fingers in the fabric, ready to tug them off. "I—mphm—gonna get blood on—on the sheets—"

"Don't care," he said absently, shifting down the bed to settle between your legs, already sliding your panties down your legs. "'S just blood, and they're just sheets. I want you."

Before you could even begin to comprehend just how much that one statement meant to you, Matt's fingers were diving into your folds, swiping across both blood and wetness before bringing them back up to circle your clit achingly slowly. A broken whine spilled from your mouth, the first caress of pleasure coming after days of pain and cramps like a glimpse of sun breaking through clouds.

You gasped Matt's name in both praise and plea combined, nearly writhing when he finally applied more pressure where you desperately needed against your sensitive clit. Hips bucking up into his hand, you let out a needy moan, eyes rolling back into your head while he worked his fingers in the magical way only Matthew fucking Murdock could.

"That's it, sweetheart," Matt cooed, speeding up the pace of his fingers. You could hear the absolutely sinful sound of your slick against Matt's fingers as he stroked you faster. "You're doing so well for me. Just let go, I got you."

The praise had you panting and gasping like each breath was the last one you could take. Fiery pleasure was scorching its way across you, starting at the point where Matt was touching you so well and burning across every nerve in your body like a supernova exploding into existence.

"So close, sweetheart, just let go," Matt encouraged, gliding his fingers over your swollen bud. "Come for me, sweetheart."

And then, he slid a hand up your body to roll over your nipple at the exact moment he brushed his fingers up against that spot on your clit, and that was it. You cried out, Matt's name echoing on repeat in the bedroom while molten heat rolled across your body in a tidal wave, days of pent up stress melting away as you finally gave way to pleasure. Your body trembled as you came down from your orgasm, and your head fell back against the pillows with a blissed out moan.

"Mm...Matt," you slurred, still drunk on the feel of your slowly receding pleasure.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he called, sounding oddly distant.

You peered blearily at the doorway, only now realizing that he had disappeared from the bed. Your heart sank, lazy afterglow of pleasure giving way to gripping anxiety once more. God, this was what you had been afraid of. Even Matt, as wonderful as he was, would also be grossed out by your blood all over him, something you couldn't blame him for—you probably looked like an extra for the Walking Dead down there. No wonder he had left. Your head flopped back down, an empty feeling worming its way into your chest.

But then the bed shifted again under Matt's weight, and you looked up, confused once more, to see Matt sliding back in bed with you, a warm washcloth in hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked you, his now clean hand coming up to stroke your cheek. "I heard your heart going up. What happened?"

"I..." You watched in a state of half disbelief and half awe as Matt gently wiped away the blood smeared along the insides of your thighs with no disgust, no judgement, no desire to hastily sweep away the evidence—just sweet, genuine care. On a normal day, this would warrant a thank you, a gesture of affection in return, or just anything to thank him like a normal person would.

But this wasn't a normal day, and you promptly burst into tears.

The cloth was all but abandoned on your leg as Matt moved back up to cradle you against his warm, broad chest without a word.

"I'm sorry," you sobbed. "I don't even know why I'm crying. I'm not usually this emotional, I swear—"

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he said softly, brushing your hair away from your face. "It's okay, I know."

"It's just—" you sniffled, blinking back more tears. "None of my other boyfriends did this. They all treated me like I was dirty or—or contaminated, and I thought you were leaving me, but you've been s-so good to me."

"It's the least I could do, honey," Matt assured you, tilting your head up to place a gentle kiss on your lips. "Because I love you, and I want to help you any way I can."

"I love you so much," you mumbled against his lips, slumping against him in peace before you sat up, realizing something. "Oh God, Matt, I'm sorry, I didn't take care of you, I meant to—"

""Hey, hey, no," he soothed. "It's okay, that was about you. You needed it, don't worry about me."

"But—"

"No," he said firmly. "I'm good, sweetheart. Now, let me clean you up, and we can go to bed, alright?"

"....Okay," you agreed quietly when Matt gave you that stern look that you knew meant he wouldn't budge on this.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you were curled up in bed like a pair of koalas, legs entwined and arms around each other. You nuzzled further into Matt's arms when he dropped a kiss into your hair.

"I love you," you murmured sleepily. "How did I get such a wonderful boyfriend?"

You felt Matt's lips turn up into a smile where they were pressed against your forehead. "Hmm, I don't know, but I'm sure your boyfriend doesn't deserve you."

"Stop it," you scolded, reaching up to cup his cheek. "If anything, I don't deserve you. You take care of me so well, Matt."

Matt smiled, his blank eyes fixed on your face as he turned his head to kiss the inside of your wrist lightly. "Always, sweetheart," he vowed. "I love you."

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AN: Funny how the smutty fic is the first Matt fic I post even though I have so many swimming in my drafts. Almost like it's a sign of some sort 🤔I'm working on those req though, I promise, guys

If you enjoyed, please remember to like, comment, and reblog! 🖤

My Matt Murdock Masterlist

[pablitogavii]

can you do an image where Gavi and you have a kind of private relationship like where your friends and family know about you guys together but you never show affection infront of people and then one day after barca win the league he’s all affectionate and his family or friends are all cooing at you guys and you are all blushing and shit. Sorry if it’s too specific <3

Privacy

Pablo was a very private person especially when it came to his relationships with people outside of football.

He wasn't much of a talked and in private was very shy to show affection in public because he didn't want it plastered all over the internet..he wanted to keep that between you and him behind closed doors.

His family and friends know just how affectionate he can be behind cameras and they always respected his wish for privacy when it came to your relationship.

"If they all know, they will make you hate me.." Pablo said to you one night after making love together and just cuddling together and loving on each other.

You knew Pablo struggled with his quickly acquired fame and he was fearful of loosing his ground and people he loved because of it...that's why he was careful with everything he does publically.

Everyone knew you were in a relationship but you still controlled what you did in front of cameras..you kept affection to the minimum and instead saved it all for when you were alone. Some fans even hated on him for 'not being a good boyfriend' for not being affectionate to his girlfriend which is completely false..they just don't have the whole picture.

Today was a special day for Barça and Pablo himself winning his first title with the team of his dreams and you were in the stand with his family of course there to support him.

"Vamos hermanita!" Aurora grabbed your hand while you walked through the crowd towards the pitch to meet with Pablo and the rest of the team with your family passes on your neck.

Paparazzi were everywhere shooting pictures while reporters were pushing to the front asking questions and pushing their mics into our faces to answer.

"How do you stay with Gavi when he doesn't treat you right!? We don't see any affection from his part?" was one of many questions commenting on our relationship that they knew nothing about and that made me sad..people were so quick to judge and hate on him for no reason. Aurora on the other hand grew angry from all these false accusations.

"Mi hermano loves this girl like a queen that she is! And for you to suggest otherwise only shows how ignorant and uninformed you are!" she was yelling at the microphone being pulled back by her mom who knew the reaction was what these vultures wanted.

"Lo siento hermanita! I couldn't help it.." she said knowing that Pablo asked her never to comment on his relationship because he didn't want your pictures plastered on the internet in various blogs and magazines. You were a normal girl and wanted to keep being that even after starting to date Gavi.

"It's alright Rora.." you said knowing she only wanted to protect her younger brother which was completely normal.

Pablo was standing on the edge of the pitch seeing and hearing the whole thing clenching his jaw and being down with all of this bullshit!

When you arrived, he walked up to you raising you off your feet making you snake your thighs around his waist while he spin you around happily. All of his family, friends and yourself were shocked with his actions..he was never this public with his affection towards you!

"Pablo? You're holding me..in public?" you whisper to him when he put you down but still keeping his strong grip around your waist while high fiving all his friends and kissing his family.

"Yes, I am!" he said like it was the most normal thing in the world and you felt your cheeks blushing as cameras flashed pictures of the two of you hugging from every side of the pitch.

"Want to take a picture with the cup princesa???" he said when it was his turn to grab it and you felt so proud to see him hold it in his hands knowing how much he deserve it.

"Um..just us?" you said still little taken back by his sudden display of affection in public that happened for the very first time. He nodded with a proud smile on his face.

"I want to show them you're mine..and that I treat you right because that's all you deserve mi vida!" he whispered into your ear making your face even more red at his words.

"A..and aren't you scared how that will affect our relationship??" you remind him of his fears seeing that he had new determination on his face..when you challenge Pablo Gavi, get ready to loose!

"I am..but I trust us to survive anything together..I know we love each other and it's time we show that to the world mi amor" he said leaning down and kissing your lips which made the whole crowd go crazy and your family and friends clapping and cheering loudly.

"Now let me take a picture with my two trophies!!" he said and you smiled with blushed cheeks as you stood together numerous pictures taken of you. Pablo kissed your head, lips and cheek while flashes were capturing every affectionate moment you shared.

"Gavi! Gavi! Can we have an interview with you and Y/n???" they asked and Pablo sighed grabbing your hand and wanting to get this over with finally.

You were never by his side when he gave an interview so you felt very nervous about it but feeling his tight hold, you were reassured that he was right there besides you.

"You're such a beautiful couple and many have doubted you because of the lack of affection they saw between you??" was the first question and you felt tense until Pablo started massaging your hips reassuring you that he was alright with answering this.

"I am a very private person and I like to keep my affection to when we are alone..to when I'm not overwhelmed with cameras.." Pablo answered and you smiled at him knowing how anxious he is talking for cameras feeling proud that he was still explaining himself.

"So why did you decide to change that today? We saw some beautiful moments between you two while taking pictures with the cup?" she asked and I felt my cheeks blush.

"Hearing people say that I don't treat her right really hurt..because I was raised to treat woman with love, respect and kindness..she is my girl and I always make sure to treat her right even though it's not caught on cameras" he answered and you smiled nodding your head in agreement.

"Anything you would like to add Y/n?" she asked and Pablo turned to look down at me with a soft smile on his handsome face.

"Yeah..Pablo is really the sweetest boyfriend to me..someone who always takes care of me and loves me softly. It makes me sad to see people hate on him and spread false information. Nobody knows about our relationship but the two of us and our families.." you said feeling Pablo kiss the top of your head lovingly.

"You certainly shut up the haters today and we hope you continue enjoying your love freely. Congrats to both of you!" she said and you smiled walking back towards your family holding your hands and smiling brightly.

"I'm glad we can do this now.." you said turning around in his arms and placing your hands on the back of his neck as he leaned down and kissed your lips then resting his forehead against yours.

"I'm sorry I haven't shut them all up sooner mi vida...I'm sorry you had to deal with the hate because of me.." he said and you cupped his cheeks shaking your head and pecking his lips one more time.

"It's alright, cariño..these things take time and I always knew how much you loved me even when you didn't show it publicly" you said and he smiled nodding his head.

"From now on, I want the whole world to see how much I love mi anjo precioso!" he said raising you up again carrying you to where his family and friends were so y'all could celebrate together.

I hope you enjoyed reading it! <3 Thanks for the request!!

[gravehags]

the burn between our hearts

Pairing: Ghouls/Ghoulettes x f!Reader

Rating: Mature

Tags: ghouls doing ghoul shit, depression, tender emotions, surprise papa

Words: 2,524

Summary: You have never felt so lost, so empty before, and you are unsure if what's wrong with you can ever be fixed.

a/n: THIS IS IT the final installment of the ghoul bicycle series. I have had so much fun writing this and who knows, might be tempted to write a little more if inspiration strikes me. See end of post for another note.

~~~

33 days.

It’s been 33 days since you’ve seen or heard from any of the ghouls.

You spent the first two and a half weeks of that in your room, sobbing wildly in bed while Sister Marguerite sat next to you rubbing your back and murmuring words of comfort to you. Truth be told, the steady presence of the middle-aged sister provided a warmth that you desperately needed. She never spoke ill of the ghouls and what they had done to you, instead telling you to be patient. That the Unholy Father always provides. That there’s always more to a bad situation than it seems. All difficult words for you to believe when your heart had been shattered the day after you had left Aurora’s room. Your mind was torn - on one hand you had come to expect this: being cast aside once they were done using you. On the other hand…you really thought you had something special with them. From your first time with Swiss to your last time with Aurora and every interaction with every ghoul in between, you felt like you were finally home. That you had finally found your place in the Ministry, by their sides.

Or not.

After most of your tears dry and your depression lets up to the point where you can leave your bed, you become angry. Fucking infuriated. Even before they were your lovers, they were your friends. And they just ditch you and act like you don’t even fucking exist anymore? Fuck that. One evening, you get so mad you stride down to the ghoul den and begin banging on their bedroom doors, cussing and cursing their names. How dare they treat you like you’re disposable? But that’s been the story of your whole life, you suppose. Everyone gets tired of you eventually. With one last slam of your fist against the wall, hard enough to bruise and shake Cumulus’ door, your tears begin to slip out once more.

“FUCK YOU!” you shout, unsuccessfully holding back a sob. The silence in the corridor is deafening so you turn on your heel and leave without a glance backwards. You don’t see the door at the end of the hall cracking open and eyes watching you go.

You return to your chores in the abbey, ignoring the sneers and dirty glances your fellow siblings give you. You’re well aware you’ve been a nuisance to everyone, being holed up in your room and shirking your duties, and you're wracked with guilt. Sister Marguerite assures you sweetly that it’s okay, everyone goes through rough spells and your absence hasn’t caused any undue burden on the rest of the siblings but you have a hard time believing her. You attend your duties but without any real life in your eyes or spring in your step. When you cry, silently, every once in a while, your sniffles draw rolled eyes and scoffs. The siblings don’t say a word to you, until one day, the dam breaks. You’re in the library and let out a small, embarrassing sob as you shelve a book on love magic when a loud slam echoes throughout the library.

“You are so fucking ridiculous, do you know that?”

You don’t realize she’s talking to you until you turn slightly and see her searing gaze. It’s Sister Tamsin. You don’t know her - not really - but she’s well-liked by a lot of people in the abbey. She’s never spoken to you before this and you frantically wipe your tears as she walks closer to you. A small crowd has been attracted to the two of you now, multiple pairs of eyes shifting between you both.

“Acting this way because of the fucking ghouls. Like you’re supposed to be special or some bullshit. Honey, the ghouls fuck everyone. They can’t help themselves. All of us have had a ghoul proposition us at some point, you’re just the only one stupid enough to fall for it. They’re nothing but fucking animals–”

“They are not animals,” you say loudly in a shaky voice but Tamsin isn’t done berating you.

“--oh look at that! She finally uses her mouth to speak instead of just opening it for ghoul cock and cunt. Go on, sweetheart. Tell us all how those beasts love you so much. Their little whore. Their–”

The slap echoes throughout the large room, but both your hands remain clenched into fists by your sides. Looming over Tamsin’s doubled-over form is Sister Marguerite, looking like fury personified in her neat habit.

“You little cunt,” Marguerite spits, causing your eyebrows to raise. You’ve never heard her swear before. “You know just as well as everyone else in this room - in this whole abbey - how sacred the ghouls are. Summoned by our own Papa from the realm of the Unholy Father to help him spread the word of our ministry. And you dare defile their name - and the name of those they have chosen - for petty cruelty? You are nothing, Tamsin. A jealous little gnat. And rest assured, Papa will be hearing about this.”

No one in the room is stunned quite as much as you as Marguerite abandons the red-faced, humiliated Tamsin in order to come to your side and escort you out of the room with her arm firmly planted across your lower back. When you finally step out of the library, she shuts the door firmly behind her and grabs your biceps, pulling you into a hug.

“Enough is enough,” she murmurs, rubbing your back. “I’m relieving you of your duties for the day. Take care, hon. Go back to your room. I’ll be having a word with our Papa.”

With one last squeeze she hustles down the hall, skirts flying and you’re left shell-shocked in the empty corridor. You rub at your eyes with the heels of your hands before doing as she requested.

Three days pass.

Three days and not a single soul dares look at you sideways let alone speak to you. You notice, with a twisted sense of satisfaction, that Tamsin is nowhere to be found. Not in the library, not in the gardens - you haven’t seen her at mass or in the dining hall. When you quietly ask Marguerite about her she just gives you a beatific smile and says, “she’s no longer a problem for you.” Something within you warns you not to inquire further so instead you go back to your normal life. After you finish a shift in the kitchens for the evening, you step out into the cloisters and head for a small courtyard you enjoy. You plop down onto a stone bench with a heaving sigh, trying to ignore the constant ache in your heart as you breathe in the evening air.

“Is this seat taken?”

Your head whips to the side and when you see a figure dressed in a red tracksuit and the earnest face of Papa Emeritus IV you jump up.

“Papa!” you gasp, curtsying before him. “I–no! Please, sit.”

He lowers himself next to you, putting his gloved hands on his thighs and taking a deep breath.

“Nice out, eh?” he asks quietly. You’ve never seen Papa like this - out of the majority of his papal paints and elaborate robes - and you certainly have never spoken to him in conversation like this.

“Beautiful,” you say, folding your hands in your lap. His eyes lower to watch you rub your fingers anxiously and worry at your cuticles. Gently, he reaches over and places a hand over yours.

“I know you’ve been hurting, sorella,” he murmurs, thumb grazing over your knuckles.

“You…you do?” All of a sudden you’re filled with dread at the thought of your poor mental state and shirked duties being reported all the way to Papa. You open your mouth to explain yourself, to apologize profusely but he speaks first.

“My ghouls,” he begins, “are very peculiar creatures. They don’t take well to most humans.”

“Oh?”

“Sì, sì…they are very protective of each other and of me. And…they don’t take human lovers.”

“They…don’t?”

“Not at all, sorella. Which makes you a very peculiar creature yourself. Something that my ghouls noticed straightaway. Something that they have spoken to me a great length about.”

Your stomach does a backflip and he looks at you with his mismatched eyes.

“Sorella, they wanted me to tell you…it is time. Go to them. Go to the last door at the end of the hallway this evening. I apologize for not telling you more - telling you sooner - but they had much to accomplish and wanted this to be a surprise.”

Your heart feels as if it’s going to burst through your ribcage and tears form in your eyes as you regard him.

“Papa…” you say quietly, your voice cracking, “thank you. Ave Sathanas. Thank you, Papa.”

He smiles at you warmly, and reaches up to briefly cup your cheek before jerking his head towards the corridor behind the two of you.

“Go on, cara. They are waiting.”

Before you can doubt yourself, you plant a brief kiss on Papa’s cheek and scurry off. As you make your way on the familiar path to the ghoul den, your hands shake by your sides. What did Papa know? What did Marguerite know, always reminding you to have faith and patience and guiding you with a gentle hand? When you enter the corridor you force yourself to take a series of deep breaths. Swallowing hard, and guided as if by an invisible hand, your feet take you down the wide corridor, all the way to the door at the end. Your pulse thunders in your ears and after a beat, you raise your fist and knock twice before placing your hand on the knob and turning slowly.

What meets your gaze after the door creaks open instantly brings tears to your eyes.

They’re there - all ten of them - standing in various spots in the large room staring at you. When you choke out a pathetic sob, Swiss is by your side in an instant.

“Hey, babygirl,” he says quietly, hand rubbing between your shoulder blades. “Do you like it?”

When you look up at him quizzically, he gestures to the room. You hadn’t even noticed the setting for all the ghouls you adored so dearly. A bed - a ridiculously enormous bed - is pushed against the far wall. Surrounding the large piece of furniture is a collection of thick cushions and pillows of varying sizes, blankets draped here and there. A dresser stands by the opposite wall and a doorway leads to a darkened room you assumed to be the bathroom. Eyebrows drawn in confusion, you look around at them.

“I…I don’t get it.”

“It’s yours,” Cirrus says, stepping forward and taking Swiss’ place at your side. “It’s what we’ve been doing all this time. We can’t bring a mate into the den and not make them a nest.”

She says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world but your jaw falls slack and you hear Aether let out a soft laugh.

“Mate?” your voice is comically high pitched as your eyes dart from Mountain to Sunshine to Aurora, perched on the end of the bed.

“If you’ll have us,” Cumulus supplies quickly, “we’re not going to assume but…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You can’t suppress the hurt in your voice and all at once they jump up and crowd around you.

“Love, like Cirrus said, we couldn’t tell you until we made a proper place for you,” Rain says softly, soothingly, “that’s how it’s supposed to be. The pack has to provide for you.”

“We’re sorry we didn’t say anything, though,” Phantom supplies, wringing his hands, “it…it wasn’t right to make you hurt like that. I told the others, but–”

“--But it was better than making you feel like you’ve been strung along. We had to make our intentions perfectly clear by doing this,” Mountain says calmly, gesturing around the room.

“I thought…I thought you didn’t want me anymore. That you didn’t care about me. That you never cared about me. I–” your words break off in a loud sob that has you doubling over on yourself and the ghouls looking anxiously around the room at one another.

“Honey, I’m sorry. We’re so sorry,” Cumulus says as she steps forward to embrace you, “human emotions can be…difficult for us to understand. We’ve never done this before, you know that? We’ve been telling you for so long that you’re special, that you’re perfect. If we didn’t want you we never, ever would have made this for you. You’re the one. You’re the only one for us.”

When you pull back from Cumulus’ arms, uselessly wiping your tears from her shoulder, she cups your face in her palms.

“We adore you. All of us.” The others nod emphatically, all reaching out to touch you in some way. It doesn’t feel real to you, but you drink it in all the same. Gently, you let go of your anger, of your doubt, and allow yourself to be filled with the perfect, aching love that surrounds you in this room.

“Thank you,” you whisper, squeezing Swiss’ hand in your left and Aurora’s in your right. “This is…wow. All for me, huh?”

“All for you,” Sunshine confirms, brushing your hair away from your face. “Does that mean you accept our offer?”

You let them squirm, just a little bit by remaining silent for a few seconds. When the “yes” leaves your lips, the room erupts triumphantly and suddenly your face is being smothered in kisses. When Swiss picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bed, you can’t help but laugh, thinking of your first time. The ensuing days of celebration are filled with as much love as lust, your naked form barely allowed to ever leave the bed and always surrounded by the sounds of pleasure. You’re thoroughly exhausted by the end of the third day, abbey duties completely forgotten and body limp in the soft sheets. Gently, so as not to wake your pack, you raise yourself onto your elbows and look around the room. On your right on the bed is Dewdrop, snoring softly, while Cumulus curls up behind you. Phantom has found a spot at the bottom of the bed and Swiss and Aurora are intertwined on a cushion across the room. Cirrus, Sunshine, and Rain sleep soundly in a pile next to them while Aether lies curled into Mountain. You smile as you regard the forms of your lovers - all ten of them, you want to laugh - and lower yourself back down into the pillow. Cumulus stirs and murmurs something into your hair, and you reach a soothing hand back behind you to scratch gently at her scalp. Dew’s eyes open briefly, glowing in the dim light of the room and he gives you a sleepy smile. Leaning over, you place a soft kiss on his forehead and run your thumb along his cheekbone.

And for once in your life, here at the abbey or otherwise, you are at peace, you are held, and you are loved.

~~~

a/n: if you're wondering what happened to sister tamsin well. ghouls get hungry, don't they?

[cocogum]

So I woke up today and chose to cry cuz omg Amalia’s life is shit compared to her friends:

1) Her dad, the only one in her family who let her out to go adventuring and live a free life for a temporary time, is dying and is highly likely that he’ll die in season 4. (Season 3-4)

2) Armand keeps judging her every action and doesn’t take her seriously. (Seasons 1-2-manga-OVAS-season 3)

3) Aurora and Armand keep trying to marry her off by making her interact with princes from other kingdoms. (Season 3)

4) Amalia can’t even talk about anything else other than politics with her family, so she now wants to eat in her room. Alone. (Season 3)

5) Yugo clearly said that he puts his and Amalia’s relationship to the back burner because he has other more important things to worry about, making her think that she’s not as important as she thought she’d be to him. (Season 3)

6) Not getting the respect by the men she started to like and gets used by them (Count Harebourg and Oropo) (But Harebourg did like her tho I mean why else would he obsessively stalk her during her adventures??) She technically gets heartbroken three times because of the conversation she overheard with Yugo and fake Ruel (Sipho). (OVA BOOK 1 - Season 3)

7) Getting rudely told by fake Ruel (Sipho) that she’s not important and that he personally doesn’t understand why Yugo likes her because of the way that ‘she looks’ which makes her now feel self-conscious. (EXCUSE ME BITCH WHO TF ARE YOU?!?!? YOU’RE SO UGLY YOU HAVE TO PRETEND TO BE ANYONE ELSE OTHER THAN YOURSELF. Bitch is blind cuz he can’t see her hourglass figure with that big ass, perfect pretty chocolate brown skin with no wrinkles or acne problems, luscious green hair with no knots perfectly tied up, and a cute face. No wonder Yugo likes her, the dude is into adorable flowers.) (Season 3)

I MEAN JUST LOOK AT HER ‼️‼️‼️‼️

8) Getting told by her own friends that she acts like a spoiled brat when she clearly stopped being too bratty and literally TRIED THROWING AWAY HER LIFE FOR HAREBOURG TO SAVE HER PEOPLE FROM OGREST’S BULLSHIT. (OVA BOOK 1)

9) Is absolutely not even comfortable in her own kingdom to the point that even her own dying father can tell she’s not feeling well. (Season 3)

10) The only thing she has ever genuinely smiled at (besides her kiss with Yugo), was meeting Dathura for the first time. (Season 3)

11) Didn’t get taken seriously when she tried telling Armand about Yugo and Adamaï. (Season 1)

12) Didn’t get taken seriously by Eva when she told her about the dream she had of Sadida telling her to search for Yugo. (Season 1)

13) Got called a ‘salad’ by some guards from a city and by Toross in a sneak peek from Season 4 (Seasons 2-4)

14) Her best friend, Eva, is now too busy with her family to be in touch with her like they used to so Amalia pretty much has to deal with her problems on her own most of the time and can’t rely on a close friend for support. (OVA BOOK 1-2-3 - Season 3)

15) Everyone in the Brotherhood of the Tofu has someone in their life that makes them a duo whether it’s romantic or familial: Dally and Evangelyne, Yugo and Adamai, Elely and Flopin, Ruel and Arpagone. Amalia has no one. (Seasons 1-2-OVAS-3)

16) The queen of the Sadida Kingdom died when Amalia was just a young child. Because of the death of her mother at such a young age, Amalia already had some family trauma from the start. She grew up with two men, with no motherly or feminine presence in her life. With no exemple from any female role model, she became spoiled, bratty, and rude to the people she deems as inferior to her princess status. (Seasons 1-2-manga)

Please I just want season 4 to do her justice cuz at this point, I’m just genuinely impressed that she hasn’t cracked yet.

The fact that season 1 only gave us hints of the beginning of her troubles is wild tho…

[iamthecomet]

Dismiss Your Demons

AKA: Kinktober Day 28 - Sounding

Rating: E Pairing: Cirrus/Dew Featuring: Service Dom Cirrus. Soft Dom Cirrus. Sub Dew. He's a tiny bit of a brat if you squint, but not really. He just likes giving Cirrus shit. Sounding. Character development cleverly disguised as porn. Aftercare (in the form of cuddles). Word Count: 3.1k. I did not read through this after I wrote it, so it is what it is, friends. I hope it makes sense. Read it on AO3.

Or under the cut.

Dew can’t think . He’s sweating. It’s pooling low on his back. He twitches his fingers where he has them pinned there. Wishing for something, anything, to flip through his fingers. 

He loves Cirrus. 

But Satanas does she make him nervous.  Especially with this look on her angular face. A crooked smile. Movements too easy, body too loose. He’s well and truly fucked.  That’s what he gets for telling her he needed to get out of his head and she could do anything.   It’s been a long week. A brutal few days on the road that have left all of them snapping at each other. Even Papa has had enough. Bad weather, bus problems, hotel mix-ups, three terrible catering companies in a row. They’ve all had enough.  Dew looks across the hotel room and longs for his bed at home. For dark abbey hallways, and candle light, and the smell of incense. He is sick of fluorescent lighting and white walls and low pile carpet. He digs his toes into it anyway, dissatisfied. 

He watches Cirrus as she flits around the room. Movements loose. More relaxed than she has any right to be given everything that’s been going on. But maybe it isn’t bothering her as much as it is Dew. She comes off as type A for sure. A control freak. But she’s more flexible than he is. Waves off problems and stupid tour bullshit with a shrug as if to say “oh well it happened, let’s move on.” 

She’s always reminded him of Aether in that way. Certainly the person they look for leadership, but because of their flexibility rather than the rigidness of someone like Dew who needs things to be right or he will feel like his skin is too small. 

That’s how he feels right now, watching Cirrus bounce around the room. Feeling like he’s just put his life in her hands. He takes a deep, breathe out. Frowns when his exhale comes out a little smokey. Tinged with anxiety. Cirrus notice, dark brows furrowing. She frowns a little at him–worried. 

“We won’t do anything you won’t like,” she reassures him. She fusses with her hair. Scrubbing her manicured nails over the shaved side. Her fingernails are electric blue, blunt like always. No deadly manicures like Aurora or Cumulus. No stiletto nails dragging over the head of his dick tonight. As pretty as that is–he’s ok with it. 

“You said something new,” he says. Allows himself this moment of vulnerability. Cirrus tilts her head at him. 

“You really are stuck aren’t you?” 

Dew grimaces. He hates it sometimes. The way she reads him like a book–all of them. So much like Aether. That’s probably why he pulled her aside after the show instead of someone else. Seeking a grounding touch someone to pull him back to earth without him really having to ask for it. 

“I want to go home,” he says. It sounds stupid. He shrugs. Doesn’t move, back straight, fingers still twitching behind his back. Knuckles flexing over the soft cotton of his t-shirt. 

“I can’t help you with that.” Cirrus sits on edge of the bed, pets the spot next to her. Dew drops down next to her. He presses his elbows into his thighs, he digs his fingers into his scalp until it hurts. Cirrus pulls him apart, uncurls him. Cool fingers unclenching his from his hair. She leans in, bumps her horns against his. 

“Enough of that,” she chides. “Aether will kill me if you come home bald.” 

Dew’s lips twitch upward. “Should shave it. Just to spite him. Punishment for abandoning us.” 

Cirrus ruffles his hair. “Don’t even think about it, firefly.” 

She presses her forehead against his. He breathes in deep, inhaling the fresh cotton smell of her. Cool and clean. He closes his eyes, nuzzles his face against her, horns bumping together. 

“Take care of me,” he says, finally. “Please.” 

“You’ll let me try something new?” 

He nods. “Anything.” 

Cirrus stands. Dew feels her vacancy in his bones. He turns his head, opens his eyes to watch her riffling through her bag. She produces a small leather case. She starts to unzip it and Dew feels his mouth go dry already. 

Not so new then. 

“Cir, that’s not–I’ve–”

Her eyes flash, so light blue they’re almost white. She grins at him, too many fangs. A chill rolls up his spine, and he swallows the rest of his words. 

“I know you’ve done this before. I’ve heard all about what you do when you’re alone with a fire.” 

Dew groans, he rolls his eyes. Tipping back onto the bed dramatically. Hair fanning out around his head. “Fucking Swiss .” “Why don’t you ever ask me to come see?” 

Dew flushes, he can’t help it. He covers his face to hide it. “You don’t usually like to just watch.” 

Dew hears the zipper on the case. The clink of metal. He shudders. Chubbing up in his jeans already. Anticipation thruming through him from sound alone. He has the vague realization that he is like a trained dog. Conditioned into arousal by the idea of sounding rods. 

“I could be compelled. Especially since you stole a rod from me to do it. I’m still missing it, by the way.” 

“Sorry.” 

Cirrus kicks one of his feet where it’s planted on the shitty carpet. Knocking his legs a little further apart so she can step between them. He feels the swell of her thighs between his. He moves his arm, looks up at her, towering over him, flipping one glinting rod through her fingers. 

“You’re not. Don’t lie.” 

Dew sits up. Reaches for her. She allows it. Allows him to put his hands on her waist, the curve of it. To slip his warm hands under her over-sized t-shirt and touch her ever-cool skin. 

“I’ll give it back when we get home.” 

Cirrus rolls her eyes instead of calling his bluff. “Strip.” 

“Don’t I get a kiss first?” 

“Brat,” she admonishes, but bends down and kiss him anyway. Full lips pressed against his. Cool. She tastes like red wine, black raspberries. He chases in, tongue sliding over hers. Taking one hand from her waist to lace in the longer side of her hair. Fingers carding through impossibly soft strands. 

She pulls back and Dew chases her lips. His cock twitches against his thigh, more than chubby now. He reaches down to adjust, gives himself a small squeeze just before Cirrus bats his hand away. 

“I asked you to do something, Firefly.” 

Dew hauls his shirt over his head, tosses it somewhere and gets to work on his belt. He shoves his and boxers down in one motion and kicks them away.

Cirrus sinks down, kneeling between his spread legs, a bottle of lube and the set of sounding rods between her knees. 

She’s right this is new. Cirrus doesn’t kneel for him. Only has ever bottomed for him when she’s been in heat. The look she gives him–cast up through long eyelashes–goes right to his dick. His stomach flips. She smooths a cool hand up over his thigh. 

“Don’t get any ideas,” she says softly. Running a blunt nail down the seam of his balls. He twitches. Digs his teeth into his cheek.  

“Never,” Dew gasps out with a shake of his head. He knows, even on her knees, Cirrus is in charge.  She’s just so pretty like this, gorgeous. Sitting low, legs tucked under her ass. Shoulders pressed between Dew’s knees. 

He slips a hand up his stomach to tug at a nipple ring as she drags her palm over the hard line of his cock. Soft hands feather light over his skin. He groans, as she palms at him, one hand after another over the underside of his cock where it curves up toward his stomatch. Not circling, more petting than anything. Just enough pressure to brush the wet tip over his sparse happy trail. 

“Lay back,” she says. The words are soft but there is no mistaking them for anything but an order.  “Let me help.” 

Dew does. Falling back onto the bed like dead weight. Toes digging into the carpet as Cirrus pets him. She polishes the head, smears precum over the ruddy head. Dew digs his fangs into his lip until he tastes copper. 

“ Relax ” she orders again. “Let go.” 

It takes effort to loosen his jaw. To allow himself to groan as one of her hands dips lower to roll his balls between her deft fingers. He melts into the bed as she touches him. Works him up with slow easy movements. Cock twitching under her hands. Spitting precum onto her hands, his belly.

He winces when he whimpers, high and reedy. He hates it, but it’s gone now, already out of his mouth. It takes a minute, but eventually he feels the tension in his head start to unravel. Feels knots loosen. He stops hearing himself. Stops worrying about how desperate he sounds. How needy. How Rain can probably hear him from the next room over. 

Instead, he hopes Rain has his ear pressed to the wall to listen. Embarrassment fading with the rest of the day–the week. 

“Good boy,” Cirrus purrs. Dew’s floating by the time he hears her open the lube bottle. Disant. Brought down by gentle hands instead of harsh words. That’s new too. He’s hazy, glassy. Every stupid annoyance is distant, he can’t even think about them. Can’t think about anything except how Cirrus touches him. 

How her hands–too soft for all of the music she plays–feel on him. He would do anything for her to have her keep touching him like that.  

“Ready?” she purrs.  Dew nods. He slurs around a yes , and a please . Hips twitching up toward her hands. His eyes are closed tight. An arm thrown over his eyes, blush burning against his forearm. With the other hand he plucks at his nipples. Tugs on the bar. Rolls the pebbled nub through his fingers. A  little rough, the little bite of pain just adding to everything. 

Cirrus starts with the smallest rod. Dew jolts when the cold metal touches his slit, presses down. More newness. When he plays with himself the metal is always warm, burning hot usually. The cold in contrast to his own body temperature makes stars dance behind his eyes. 

Cirrus is uncharacteristically gentle with him. He’s more intune to it this way–expecting a shift. For her to start fucking the sounding rod into him with abandon. But instead she works it in slowly. She leaves it deep, opting to press her fingers along the underside of his cock instead. More petting strokes, rolling the rod inside of him. 

It only takes him two more minutes to need more . A bigger rod. For her to actually stroke him. For her to thrust that ice cold metal in and out of his body. To really give him something. But he should have known that Cirrus’ gentleness would be his downfall. 

They follow the same pattern. It’s all so slow, so easy. Dew’s hips flex up toward every touch. Whines bubbling out of his throat at every twitch. Cirrus coos at him, shushes him when he really starts to whine, to beg.  She kisses the inside of his thigh. His hip bones. Drags her free hand up over his legs his belly. “Give me a color, baby.” 

“Green. Just. More . I need more .” 

“But you’re doing so good.” 

Dew digs his claws into the comforter. He could scream. Pleasure burns low in his gut. A fire he doesn’t know how to feed, not enough kindling. Just enough fuel to flicker to life, but not enough to rage. Everything is sharp, intense. He shudders with it. Nerve alight. 

Dew props himself up on his elbow, dragging his arm away from his face, opening his eyes. The room is too bright. Cirrus is looking up at him from between his legs smirk still firmly in place. 

She’s up to the second largest rod now. Dew can see the way it bulges the underside of his cock. Cirrus runs a nail over it. Fingers catching on the piercing just below the head. Swiping over his frenulum with her thumb. He sobs at the sudden jolt of pleasure. Gasping in, breath catching. 

“Hey, firefly,” Cirrus says softly. She reaches up along the length of his body, sitting up on her knees to brush her fingers over his flushed cheeks, over his throat, his pounding pulse. “How do you feel?” 

“Like I want to cum.” 

“Not what I meant.” 

Dew sighs, whimpering as Cirrus twists the sounding rod. “Floaty. Fuck . Better. Please, Cir. At least let me see you. Give me something. ”

“Don’t be greedy,” Cirrus admonishes. “I’ve given you plenty.” Despite the words she leans back, pulls her hands away just long enough to pull her shirt over her head. Dew’s throat clicks when he swallows. Eyes dragging over her tits, her stomach. The curve of her waist. He wants to touch. Wants to lay back as she rides his face. Wants her to take everything from him. 

Cirrus scoffs at the look on his face. “You’re so easy.” 

Dew nods dumbly. Of course he is. Weak, always, to the power of Cirrus’ tits. 

“Make me cum?” he means for it to come out as a demand, but instead it’s a question. Breathless. 

Cirrus cocks a dark eyebrow. She lowers herself back, sitting on her heels. Her tits brushing his thighs as she goes, one dusky nipple dragging over his thigh. Dew wants to latch onto it with his mouth. Wants to suck it swollen. 

He licks his lips, tries not to stare too much and fails. 

“I’ll do anything.” 

Cirrus’ eyebrow stays up, her head tips. She pets his cock again, watching as it twitches and spits precum onto his stomach. There’s a puddle of it there now, slick and shiny. The head of his dick is swollen, nearly purple. Cirrus bends down, and swipes her tongue up along the underside, pressing down hard on the rod as she goes. 

Dew bucks up toward her mouth. Swears he’s going to burst into flames if she keeps going. If she doesn’t just–Cirrus smirks at him and sucks the head into his mouth. Tongue pressing down on the top of the rod to keep it in place. 

He’s going to die. This is it. Death by sounding in a shitty hotel in the middle of nowhere USA. He’s fucked, utterly fucked. He falls back onto the bed, unable to hold himself up anymore. 

Cirrus pulls off with a pop. “Anything?” 

“Fuck– fuck– yes. Anything. Satanas whatever you want just fucking touch it. Make it cum. I can’t– fuck .” 

Cirrus’s hand finally curls around the base of him. The other pulls at the sounding rod. Fucking it into him. She times her strokes with it, a counter rhythm that has him seeing stars.  “Promise me.” 

“I promise. ”  Cirrus licks a stripe over his hip bone. Sucks a mark into the hollow there as she strokes him. Teeth digging in and making him gasp. Dew’s distantly aware of the sound he’s making. High pitched, whining. Desperate. If Rain wasn’t listening at the wall before he definitely is now. He bucks toward Cirrus’ hand, toes curling in the carpet. 

“ Close .” 

“Then cum,” Cirrus whispers against his hip. “Let it out. Let me see how messy you get.” 

His balls draw up tight, he sobs as it hits him. Pleasure burning through his veins. His back arches as he cums. Cirrus pulls the sounding rod in just in time for the first spurt to hit Dew’s stomach. It dribbles down Cirrus fingers, into his pubic hair. Dew closes his eyes so tight he sees red. It feels like it goes on forever. Body still twitching long after he stops shooting. Cirrus strokes him through it, doesn’t stop until she’s squeezed every drop she can from him. 

Dew waits for Cirrus to pounce on him. To force him into overstimulation. To straddle his face. She doesn’t. Instead, she wipes him up with her t-shirt, apologizing softly as he hisses in overstimulation. Then she pokes and prods him until he shifts. Muscles like jelly. He pulls himself fully onto the bed, finally laying in in properly. Cirrus settles in next to him, pulling him down to her. Curling an arm around him and pressing his head to her chest. Cheek pillowed by soft plush flesh as she pets the side of his head. He listens to her heart as he comes back down. Steady, solid. He clings to her. Fingers dimpling into her waist. 

“Give me a minute and I can–whatever you want.” 

“I’m fine, Dew.” She kisses him between the horns. 

“Not fair,” he says sleepily. “You should get off too.” 

She shrugs beneath him. “You know how it is for me. It’s not that easy. Watching you is just as good, you know that. Do you feel better? Quieter?” 

Dew nods. Yawns, nuzzles into her breast. He presses open mouthed kisses across the freckled skin there. Lazy. Appreciative. “Yeah. Thank you, you’re too good to me.” 

“No, I’m not. You don’t have to carry so much on your shoulders, Dew. You can let other people hold it sometimes.” 

He shrugs. “Dunno how.” 

He feels her smile against his hair, she kisses him again, at the base of his horn this time. She settles in, breath huffing out over his slap as she cradles him. He feels her relax beneath him, heart slowing, breathing going even. Comfortable beneath his warmth, his weight. Dew feels sleep tugging at him. He cracks his eyes open to stave it off for just a few more minutes. 

“What do you want then? Something, obviously,,” Dew mumbles sleepily. Cirrus chuckles, still stroking her fingers through his hair, working through tangles. When he tips his head to look up at her, he finds her eyes closed, face open and relaxed. 

“Next time you sound yourself, I want you to call me so I can come watch.” 

Dew blinks at her, head tipping to the side in confusion. “That’s it?” 

Cirrus laughs, she cracks an eye open, lips twisting up into that same mischievous smirk from before.  “Is it ever?” 

Dew pulls his gaze away from her face and puts his head back where it belongs. He sucks her nipple into his mouth, teeth dragging over it as it hardens against his tongue. Soothing more than sexual. He doesn’t answer. They both know there’s more. And Dew could ask for a clue–but he likes it better when Cirrus surprises him. 

[the-bitter-ocean]

Hi Aurora and In stars and time fandom I’m back on my bullshit this time with yet another au… In stars and time Aurora au doodle time (explanation of the au/ ramble notes under the cut):

Premise of the au is basically The stars squad (Siffrin, Isabeau, Mirabelle, Odile and Bonnie) and call the other ISAT characters but they’re in the world of Aurora (the webcomic).

I have a different/ separate au where the Aurora characters like the floof squad ( Kendal, Alinua, Erin, Tess, Falst and Dainix ) are in the world of ISAT that I’ve drawn and posted on tumblr a while back. I’ll make a way more extensive post on the intricacies of that au later.

The general details I have so far is that Siffrin is a cat ferin, Isabeau is a stone Mage, Odile is an elemental magus, Bonnie is an ignan fire Mage amd Mirabelle is a life Mage who is also a light Paladin.

The King ( who plays a similar role to the Collector in Aurora) is a seemingly immortal life Mage gone completely rogue whose trying to preserve the entire world to be frozen forever in stagnation, believing that all life would be better/ perfect in that state and that’s what the universe/ primordials want. ) Rather than capturing gods solely for the purpose of dismantling them/ picking them apart he focuses on keeping them essentially cryogenically frozen forever.

Mirabelle ( who plays functionally a similar role to Kendal) was blessed by Euphrasie (also a light Paladin) with the power to stop the king from dooming the world and along the way she meets the rest of the party to aid her in her journey.

[parkerslatte]

Songbird || TWELVE

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mention of blood

Word Count: 3.7k

Part Summary: The band records songs for Aurora and Y/N attends a party with Daisy.

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•••

TRACK TWELVE;

MANEATER

...

DAISY JONES: We must’ve written eight or nine songs the first couple weeks. I would have an idea, and then he’d flesh it out, or he would come up with a riff, and I’d come up with a melody line.

BILLY DUNNE: When you’re making an album, any album, it’s an intimate thing. I mean, it has to be.

DAISY JONES: Which isn’t to say we didn’t fight.

BILLY DUNNE: Oh we were fighting constantly.

WARREN ROJAS: For a month it was like that. We’d be in the studio, you know, recording all the arrangements, and they’d be who knows where doing god knows what.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Everyday they’d come in with something new.

KAREN SIRKO: I mean great fucking songs.

Y/N L/N: Even though I didn’t want to be in the band, I can’t fault the songs, they were great, amazing even.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: And every night, they’d come in giggling like two little schoolgirls. 

INTERVIEWER: Did it concern you?

GRAHAM DUNNE: Not really. Not yet, anyway. I mean…like whatever they were doing…it was working.

INTERVIEWER: How was Y/N adjusting to being in a band?

KAREN SIRKO: She adjusted well, it was only the arguments that was a concern.

…

“I did everything you told me to do, Billy!” Y/N yelled into the microphone. 

“But it’s not good enough,” Billy says from the booth, “Try again.”

Y/N sighed, and began to play again but as soon as she started playing, Billy cut her off again.

“In what possible way was that wrong,” Y/N exclaimed, “I played one note.”

“It was the wrong note.” Billy says, trying to remain calm.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “You need to get your hearing checked.”

Billy turns to Teddy, “It was the right note, Billy.”

A smirk appeared on Y/N’s face at Billy’s annoyed expression. 

“Again.” Billy ordered. 

Once again as soon as Y/N began to play Billy interrupted her. 

“Right,” Y/N says, “This is bullshit.”

Y/N lifted the guitar and placed it back on its stand. With one final glare at Billy, she left the room, joining the rest of the band. 

“You finished?” Karen questioned. 

“Nope,” Y/N said, flopping down on the couch next to Eddie, “Apparently Billy needs to get his hearing checked because everything I’m doing is wrong.”

Billy came storming out of the booth, his eyes focussed on Y/N, “Get back in the studio now, Y/N, you’re wasting time.”

“Why?” Y/N questioned, “So you can stop me every two seconds, I’d say you’re the one who’s wasting time.”

“Billy, just give her a break,” Karen says, “She’s been in the studio all day.”

“And so have the rest of us.” Billy says.

“Yeah, but we haven’t been yelled at for the past two hours.” Eddie muttered. 

Billy sent a glare Eddie’s way before his gaze landed back on Y/N, “Y/N, get back in the studio.”

…

KAREN SIRKO: Billy didn’t know when to stop when he argued with Y/N. 

WARREN ROJAS: Y/N never let her emotions show much, but I could tell that she was getting to her breaking point.

CAMILA DUNNE: I knew how Billy was treating Y/N and I wasn’t standing for it. She was my best friend and he was treating her awfully. I knew they didn’t like each other but that was no excuse.

BILLY DUNNE: Y/N got on my last nerve. She always wanted things her way. 

Y/N L/N: Billy was a controlling prick.

DAISY JONES: I knew that Y/N didn’t want to be in the band, and I didn’t understand why she was in the band. Her talent shouldn’t have been pushed to the side like it was. 

…

The band sat around in the studio waiting for Billy and Y/N to come back with their new song. Y/N sat with her guitar, carelessly strumming a tune she had come up with, humming along to lyrics she had written months ago that was meant to be for her album. 

“I like that melody.” Graham says. 

“Thanks,” Y/N smiled, “I was working on it for my album.”

Graham began to listen to the song as Y/N continued to strum her guitar. As he began to play her own guitar, working with what Y/N had already created, she turned to him and smiled. One by one each member of the band began to play along with Y/N and Graham. It didn’t sound fantastic but to Y/N it sounded like the most amazing thing in the world. 

“Sing the song.” Graham says.

“I wrote the song as a duet,” Y/N says, “Eddie, would you be able to sing the other part.”

“Me?” Eddie questioned.

Y/N smiled and reached down to her bag and pulled out her notebook, turning to the correct page and held it out to Eddie.

“The green ink is what you’re meant to sing. You’ll pick up the melody.”

Everyone began to play what they were before, slowly getting a good balance. Y/N began to sing everything melted away, the only thing she concentrated on was the music. Y/N signalled that Eddie should start singing. As he began he was out on timing which caused Y/N to smile but he soon got into a rhythm. 

Their voices complimented each other perfectly. Y/N couldn’t help but smile. Every member of the band got into the rhythm of the song, fully enjoying themselves for not being told what to do, they all got to freely play what they wanted. 

The door to the studio opened and in walked Billy and Daisy. Daisy slowed down her walk as she listened to the song, meanwhile Billy let out an annoyed sigh. Y/N was the first to notice and she stopped singing and playing, everyone followed her actions. 

“What’s going on here?” Billy questioned.

“Y/N wrote a song and we were playing around with it,” Graham answered, “It’s a great song.”

“It’s not going on the album.” Billy says.

“Come on,” Warren says, “It’s a great fucking song.”

“It’s not going on the album.” Billy repeated. 

“I think it should go on the album.” Daisy intervened.

“Thank you Daisy.” Y/N says and Billy rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not going on the album,” Billy says, “And that’s final.”

“Okay,” Daisy challenged, “Then I want Y/N to sing The River with me.”

The room fell silent. 

“It’s one or the other Billy,” Daisy says, “Her song goes on the album or she sings The River with me.”

…

Y/N L/N: Originally I never wanted my song to go on the album, but the look on Billy’s face when Daisy gave him that ultimatum was what made me want to have my song on the album. 

DAISY JONES: We recorded Y/N’s song that day. 

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Y/N’s song was my favourite on the album, still is. 

WARREN ROJAS: I think that was the most laid back recording we did. Y/N took the reins on it and let us fuck around with it. It was a good day.

…

“Camila!” Y/N says, entering the house through the front door.

“Y/N,” Camila says, coming around the corner, “I didn’t know you were coming around today.”

“It wasn’t originally,” Y/N admitted, “But figured that since Billy isn’t here, I would come around. I haven’t seen Julia in ages. How are you by the way? We haven’t had the chance to sit and talk in a while.”

“I’ve been okay,” Camila says, sitting down on the couch next to Y/N, “I’ve been busy with Julia, she’s getting to the point where I can’t leave her unattended for too long or they’ll be another broken glass on the floor.”

“Billy hasn’t helped at all?” Y/N questioned.

“He has barely been here,” Camila says, an edge to her voice, “And when he is here, he’s always on the phone with Daisy.”

“I would say that I would have a talk with him, but we all know how that would go, so…”

Camila laughed, “It’s fine, you don’t need to talk to him, I’ll try to when he gets home, whenever that will be.”

“Hey, if you ever need help with anything, you can call me and I’ll answer and be here as quick as I can.” Y/N says, talking ahold of Camila’s hand, “If you need any help with Julia or even a break from her, I’ll babysit her and you can go and take as many photos until you literally can’t anymore.”

“Oh,” Camila says, getting to her feet, “That reminds me.”

Camila walked to the other side of the room and opened a drawer, “I forgot I developed these photos ages ago and I thought you would want them.”

Walking back over to Y/N, Camila handed her three photos and Y/N’s heart sank. The photos were of her and Eddie from the Christmas her first single was released. The first photo was just after Y/N handed Eddie his gift. The two were looking intently into each other’s eyes, a look of adoration on their faces. 

Flipping to the next photo, Y/N’s heart sank even more when she saw it. In the photo, she was staring at the camera with a smile while Eddie looked at her. The look on his face couldn’t have been mistaken for anything other than love. 

The final photo ripped Y/N’s heart out and threw it on the ground. The photo was taken when neither of them were aware. The two were cuddled up on the couch. Y/N’s arms were wrapped around Eddie’s torso while his arm was wrapped around her waist and the other held onto her arm. Her head rested on his chest while his head was dipped, his lips brushing her forehead. 

“When did you take this photo?” Y/N questioned.

“The same day,” Camila says, “It was a cute photo, I took it when you both weren’t looking.”

“Stalker.” Y/N jokes. 

Y/N placed the photos back in a stack and handed them back to Camila.

“Don’t you want them?” Camila questioned, furrowing her eyebrows. 

“I just-I just don’t think I need them.” Y/N says.

Camila saw right through Y/N’s lie, “What else is going on? Because months ago, you would have been excited to have these.”

Y/N sighed, “Nothing’s going on-”

“Is anything going on between you and Eddie?” Camila questioned.

“What?” Y/N says, “No, there’s nothing going on.”

“Are you sure because the two of you have been acting like strangers for months now.” Camila points out.

Y/N shrugged, “We just grew apart. I was busy working on my non-existent album and he was working with the band, we just haven’t had the time to talk and hang out.” Y/N hated how easily the lie rolled off her tongue. 

“Are you sure nothing’s going on?” Camila asks.

“I’m sure,” Y/N says, “There is nothing going on between me and Eddie.”

…

Y/N L/N: All of these lies were eating me alive. Of course there was something going on, but at the time I couldn’t figure out exactly what it was, I had never felt that way before so it was all new for me.

…

The next day, Y/N was sitting in the studio, bored out of her mind. They were meant to be recording vocals for Aurora but Daisy never showed up. With her notebook in hand, Y/N was just colouring in the page out of pure boredom. They had all been sitting there for hours. 

“Did you try her room?” Teddy asked.

“Yeah, couple times,” Billy says, “I’m worried something’s happened.”

“She’s probably just off somewhere.” Teddy suggested.

“No,, no this is her record as much as it’s mine. Something’s not right,” Billy says, “I got to go.”

“I’ll go with you.” Teddy offered.

“No, it’s worse if the principal comes.”

“Well, take Warren.” Teddy says.

“I can handle it.” Billy says, walking out of the studio.

Y/N looks to where he had disappeared before throwing her notebook down and followed after him. Just as he started up his car, Y/N climbed into the passenger seat. 

“What are you doing Y/N?” Billy sighed.

“Look, we don’t like each other, cool,” Y/N says, “But I care about Daisy too, so let’s just go.”

Surprisingly, Billy didn’t argue. He simply nodded and pulled away from the studio. 

As the two arrived at the hotel, music was blaring out and shouting was heard for every direction. Y/N and Billy slowly walked closer to the pool where they found Daisy. 

“Y/N,” Billy says, “Can you give us a minute?”

“What? Why? I want to see-”

“Y/N, just go.” Billy says. 

Sighing, Y/N sat down on a chair, watching the interaction between Daisy and Billy. Y/N had never been one to pry into people’s relationships but she didn’t quite understand what was going on between Daisy and Billy. One moment, they were acting like the best friends in the world and then the next they were acting like they detested each other. Y/N couldn’t work it out. 

As Daisy climbed out of the pool, Y/N watched as the glass dug into her feet, causing them to bleed. Y/N winced, standing to her feet. 

“Say, hi to Camila for me!” Daisy called to Billy as he stormed off. 

“Billy, wait!” Y/N says as he leaves the hotel grounds. Y/N contemplated following him as he was her only way home but she decided against it, opting to check on Daisy. 

“Let me guess,” Daisy says, “You’re here to yell at me as well.”

Y/N says, “No, not at all, unlike Billy I know what a fun time looks like.” Y/N lied, she had been annoyed with how late Daisy was but she wasn’t going to outright be angry about it like Billy was.

Y/N looked down at Daisy’s feet, “Can I clean that up?”

Daisy looked down at her feet and watched as the blood mixed with the water, “I’m fine.” As she tried to walk away, Daisy limped, in obvious pain. 

“Look, I’ll make a promise,” Y/N says, “You let me clean that up and I’ll happily leave you alone to do whatever you want.”

“Why don’t you join me?” Daisy says. 

Y/N sighs, “As long as I can clean that up.”

Daisy rolled her eyes and sat down and Y/N rushed to find a bandage and some alcohol, the latter being much easier to find. After getting some bandages, Y/N went back to Daisy who was miraculously in the same place. 

Bending down, Y/N inspected her foot, luckily there wasn’t any glass embedded into her foot so it would be rather easy to clean up. 

“Okay,” Y/N says, unscrewing the bottle of alcohol, “This will probably sting a little bit.”

Daisy nods before Y/N pours the alcohol onto the cuts. Daisy winced but Y/N continued to wipe away the blood, disinfecting the cuts. As Y/N wrapped her foot in the bandage, Daisy watched her intently. 

“There,” Y/N says, “Just please don’t put your foot in the pool again, I don’t think I can find any more bandages.”

Daisy put her foot down on the floor and looked at Y/N. She didn’t say anything before reaching down and picking up the bottle of alcohol, “No your end of the deal.”

Y/N smirked and took the bottle of alcohol from Daisy and took a long swig. 

***

“Where’s Y/N?” Warren asked as Billy entered the studio alone. 

Billy looked around, like he was surprised that Y/N wasn’t with him, “I think she’s still with Daisy.”

“You think?” Eddie says, “You just left her?”

“Yes Eddie I did,” Billy says, “I had more important things on my mind.”

“Look,” Karen spoke up, already sensing the tension, “She’s probably fine, she’ll either stay with Daisy or she’ll find her own way home, she always does, there’s no point in worrying.”

No one said anything as Billy picked up his guitar case and left swiftly without a word to anyone.

Back at the house, Eddie was finding it difficult to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt fully awake. Every time he tried to get comfortable, it would only turn into the most uncomfortable position only moments later. 

As Eddie closed his eyes for hopefully the final time that night, the phone began to ring in the living room. Due to having the room closest to the living room, Eddie flipped the covers off and got out of bed. As he passed the clock on the wall he took notice of the time. Four in the morning. 

Picking up the phone, Eddie answered it. 

“Hello?” Eddie says.

There was a long pause before there was an answer, “Eddie?”

“Y/N?” Eddie says, “Are you okay?”

“I-I don’t know where I am.” Y/N says. 

“What do you mean?” Eddie questions. 

“I lost Daisy,” Y/N says, her words barely legible, “So I continued to drink without her and this guy gave me some pills and I took them.”

“Y/N, are you okay?” Eddie asked, suddenly fully alert. 

“I’m-I’m fine,” Y/N says, “I went to walk home but I think I took a wrong turn.”

“Can you describe what’s around you?” Eddie questions. 

There was a pause before Y/N answered, “It’s too dark. I don’t think I’m that far away from the hotel.”

“Okay, Y/N, stay where you are, I’m coming to get you.” Eddie says and hangs up the phone. 

Only picking up a jacket before he left the house, Eddie got into the van and pulled out of the driveway. His heart was beating fast as he drove, the only thing he thought about was Y/N. As he neared the hotel, he slowed down and kept an eye out for her. There wasn’t much around at all, simply a road and trees with a few houses scattered down it.

As Eddie drove further down the road, he spotted a payphone box and a person sat down next to it. Immediately Eddie got out of the van and ran the small distance. 

“Y/N.” Eddie says softly. 

Y/N looked up and she smiled, “Eddie…”

Y/N was shivering and goose bumps covered her skin. Pulling off his jacket, Eddie placed it around her and helped her to her feet. 

“I’m sorry.” Y/N says as his arm wrapped around her waist as he helped her to the van.

“For what?” Eddie questioned.

“For dragging you out here in the middle of the night.” Y/N says, clutching onto Eddie. 

“Don’t apologise.” Eddie says, helping her into the van. 

Y/N pulled his jacket tighter around her body as she sat safely in the passenger seat of the car. Eddie got in and began to drive back to the house. Y/N didn’t say anything the entire way there, she simply looked out of the window at the world passing by. She was fully aware of Eddie continuously sneaking glances at her. 

As they arrived back at the house, Eddie tried to help Y/N out of the van but she pushed him away, “I’m fine, Eddie.”

“You sure don’t look fine,” Eddie says, “You don’t normally get this bad, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Y/N questioned, “Well I have all the reason to be.”

Y/N sniffled, trying to fight back the tears she had been keeping at bay for months. 

“I’ve had everything I’ve ever been working towards taken from me,” Y/N says, “My album was the one thing I’ve always wanted to do and now that opportunity is gone. I never wanted to join the band and now I have and I haven’t been more miserable in my whole life. Billy never lets me have any creative freedom, and everything I do is wrong. I can’t do anything right in his eyes. I am a singer and a songwriter and it’s been taken away from me.  ”

“You have one song on the album.” Eddie says, trying to look at the positives. 

“A song that I wrote for my album.” Y/N says, finally letting the tears fall, “I wrote that song with the idea of you singing it with me. I wrote it for us.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, he didn’t know what to say. Y/N looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. Reaching up, Eddie cupped her cheeks and gently wiped them away. He stepped closer to her, decreasing the distance between them. 

Y/N continued to stand there, not knowing how to react. Her thoughts weren’t clear and she didn’t know what to say. 

Looking down at Y/N, Eddie began to lean forward, his lips inched towards hers like it was a magnetic pull driving them together. Eddie couldn’t help himself, the feeling of Y/N’s lips on his was a feeling he craved, it was as if it were his own personal high and he needed a constant fix. Y/N, noticing this, pushed him away harshly. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Y/N whispered.

“I-I-” Eddie cut himself off because he didn’t really have an answer. 

“No, Eddie,” Y/N mumbled, “You’re being mean.”

“I’m not,” Eddie begs, “I’m not, I’m sorry.”

Y/N shook her head, “You are, you don’t do that to someone. You can’t do that to someone. You don’t mess with someone’s feelings like that. Don’t talk to me again.”

With that, Y/N walked back into the house leaving Eddie outside on his own. Eddie remained there in silence for a moment, processing everything. He wished he could rewind time and never did what he did. Angrily, Eddie turned around and punched the wall. Almost immediately he brought his hand to his chest, cradling it. There were cuts on his knuckles and bruises would certainly form, but Eddie didn’t care. 

The pain made him aware of what he did. The pain on the outside reflected the pain he was feeling on the inside. 

…

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Everything I did that night, I regretted. I ruined what was left of my friendship with Y/N. I loved her, but I ruined that. And I only made everything more complicated from there.

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@itsthegamemaster @pinkdaiisies @atrimmunson @siredstiless @jihyoforlife @accidrainonme @meet-me-backstage @littlehoneyfreak @spidermanenthusist @2seatsporche @neptunes-curse @guichu

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[kimpossibly]

cherry coke (d. jones)

pairing: daisy jones x fem!reader summary: after an exposing news article is published in rolling stone, daisy and y/n have to figure out how to deal with the world knowing the truth. warnings: swearing, homophobia (not a lot, just mentions and implications for plot reasons only, but nothing explicit), drugs, drinking, s*x (mentioned but not described), mentions of addiction (past and current), daisy wanting to commit h*micide (vengeful wife vibes)

author's note: so this is what i was doing while demotivated to write the chain. I PROMISE I WAS TRYING but this idea also appeared to me and i just. i had to guys. i HAD to. i'm glad you guys have enjoyed the final part of the chain (and by that i mean yelling at me in the comments for making you guys cry. no i am not sorry, this is what i was going for all along) but seriously, i love that you guys loved it. yes it was sad but i'm glad you all felt that with me, because boy was it difficult to write. so here's a happier one! i saw someone say that daisy jones gives iconic lesbian energy and i was like you know what???? i VERY much agree! like, she set so many trends and broke out of the box in so many ways...so like why not by being gay yk?? anyway, this one gets a lil angsty and then supa cute again so enjoy! i love you guys <3

DAISY JONES: You're famous long enough, you start to ignore the rumors. They're always gonna be there―some of 'em will surprise you when they're true, but most of the time they're just plain bullshit. You have to let them roll over you without a second thought. [pause]. But when that Rolling Stone article came out...it scared me. It was like Jonah Berg had stumbled on the gold mine of his career that could ruin mine in a second.

Y/N L/N: [holds up magazine] Inside Daisy Jones' and Y/n L/n's Torrid Love Affair. Quite the headline, huh? At the time, though, it kinda felt something like a death sentence. [pause] Look, the seventies were great, right? The parties, the music, the nightlife...but there were things that society just wasn't ready for yet. And that was what we were.

DAISY JONES: We were both so far deep into our denial then that it just...well, it made me want revenge [laughs]. But Y/n wasn't like that. She had her own things to deal with.

Y/N: Let me just tell you this one thing: never take your best friend on tour.

"You guys sold out this entire place?" Moody said as he looked around the giant stadium.

The band was in the middle of soundcheck in Henderson, but Y/n still found a moment to throw an arm over her childhood best friend's shoulders. "You sound surprised. If I were in a worse mood I might be offended."

Moody chuckled as Y/n wandered away to where Daisy was singing quietly into the main mic. Y/n knocked her foot into Daisy's boot as she passed, giving the girl a quick sly grin. Daisy returned it (not without a cleverly placed eye roll) and went on singing.

After a moment, an arm wrapped around Y/n's waist, pulling her back. She let out a shriek that melted into a laugh as Daisy pulled her back to the mic, saying, "Get back here and sing some harmonies with me!"

Moody watched with a quizzical look as Daisy and Y/n sang into the same microphone to test. Neither one of them could seem to really take it seriously; if their eyes met for even a second they'd laugh through the melody, effectively accomplishing nothing in the way of sound checking.

Eventually Y/n pulled herself away from the mic. She sang backup and harmonies on some of the songs off Aurora, but she never really liked having her own voice front and center. Besides, she was perfectly content to listen to Daisy sing. Daisy had a voice that demanded to be listened to. And Y/n loved it.

Billy passed by, impatiently shoving a guitar in Y/n's hand. "You gonna keep staring at Daisy, or are you gonna play?" he said in passing. Y/n stuck her tongue out at him and shouldered the guitar, still watching Daisy out of the corner of her eye as she plucked out the starting melody to Honeycomb.

Moody went to join the crowd when the first few concertgoers began to file in. From there it was a steady stream of fans, the chatter in the room growing louder and louder until thousands of people stood in the room, cheering and chanting for the band.

Moody had to admit it. He was impressed with what Y/n and the band had created for themselves.

The show began when Daisy walked onstage, red hair aglow in the pink and blue lights. There was glitter on her cheeks and dark makeup smudged around her eyes. And when Y/n walked onstage behind her, Moody noticed that she too had glitter on her face and lipstick smudged around her mouth.

The show was fantastic. When Daisy was at the mic (which, at that time, was always) she was electric, attracting light and eyes wherever she went. Whenever Billy stepped up to sing with her, it was like there was some instant kind of chemistry between them. They looked at each other, sang to each other, and it all made it feel like they were the only two in the room.

But there were times―few and far between, but still times―when Daisy would pick up the mic and go by Y/n as she played the guitar. In those moments, Daisy and Y/n would meet eyes, and the fits of laughter they'd had during soundcheck were nowhere in sight. They were focused on nothing but each other and the music. It seemed to suck all the air of the room in a single breath.

And during a particularly intricate guitar solo, Daisy got down on her knees in front of Y/n and sang up to her, setting the crowd ablaze with cheers and chatter.

Moody met back up with the band after the show, at which time Y/n leapt into his arms and stayed there, holding on and riding around as he greeted the other members of the band.

Daisy passed him last, and he gave her a short nod of his head. "Great show, Daisy."

"Why, thank you," she said in a very Daisy-way. As she passed, she gave a quick squeeze to Y/n's side, never taking her eyes off the girl until she was on the other side of them. It was an almost imperceptible gesture, but he saw.

Now, in that era of rock, shows didn't just stop after the set. The parties that followed were infamous for being the wildest place to be. Drugs and alcohol everywhere you looked, sex swimming in the air. If you wanted to dance a little too close to the devil, that was where you needed to be.

Moody got about as far as the entrance and tapped Y/n on the shoulder. "I'll meet you at your room."

She nodded, then bounced into the party without another word. I'll meet you at your room was code for their regular post-show routine. Y/n would go off to some party with Daisy and get shitfaced while Moody settled into Y/n's hotel room with a book. Around four or five in the morning, she'd stumble into her room, giggly and high, sometimes with Daisy at her side. Then Moody was in charge of sliding off her boots and making sure she sure got in bed and slept on her side. Then, he would go back to his own room for a few hours of well deserved sleep. Sometimes Daisy left, sometimes she didn't. Moody didn't put up much of a fight when it came to her.

Despite the fact that the party was nearly two floors above him, Moody could hear and feel the music through the ceiling. Hotel security never did much, mostly due to the hefty security deposit made by Rod and management. Hotels learned to expect this kind of thing when a rock band as famous as Daisy Jones & The Six came in town.

Meanwhile, Y/n was two floors above, stuck to Daisy's side, greeting everyone she saw and doing any drug she stumbled across. Her glass kept getting refilled, though she wasn't sure quite how. She allowed Daisy to pull her from group to group, keeping themselves latched together by the hand. And, around two in the morning, everyone was too faded to notice them slip out of the front door together.

The knock at Moody's door came at around 4:58. It was one, single sharp rap, then the dull thud of Y/n's head hitting the door. A soft giggle floated through the wood, "Let me in, Michael," she said, and he could practically hear the smile on her face through it.

He opened the door to see her leaned on the door frame, shoes in her hand, makeup smudged, hair messed up, clothing askew. Even then he thought she looked so beautiful, standing there, looking like she had just been blown through a tornado. Even then, she seemed to glow.

"G'morning," she greeted with a nod, stumbling in through the entryway.

Sure enough, she tripped over her own feet and nearly collapsed within a few seconds, sending Moody lunging to catch her around the waist. "Okay," he groaned, "no more of...well, anything for you tonight."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, "If I had known you were going to be such a buzzkill, I woulda left you in Pittsburgh."

He guided her to the bed and sat her down. She slumped over, face half squished in the pillow. He held out a hand. "Give me all you got."

Y/n gave him a childish glare before digging in the pocket on her coat and pulling out half a dozen little baggies of pills and powders. She reluctantly smacked them into his hand, shifting further onto the bed to starting getting comfy.

"Thank you," he pocketed the drugs and started unlacing her boots. "You know, one of these days, all the parties are going to catch up to you, and you're either going to regret it, or you'll be passed out in the gutter. Just think about that."

"I've passed out in a gutter before. Not the best experience I've had, but not the worst."

He chuckled, sliding her coat off her arms. As he was pulling the covers over her, Y/n giggled. "I have a secret," she sang in a taunting voice.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, crouching down to her level. "Hit me."

"Nuh-uh. It doesn't work like that."

"Really? How does it work then?"

Y/n paused and thought for a moment. Then, she laughed again like she had just thought of something really dirty. "No!" she squealed. "No, no. I can't tell you. Nuh-uh."

Moody crossed his arms, giving her a pleading look, and then she sighed. "Fine," she relented with a grin, "Come here."

He leaned in, and she beckoned him even closer, until her lips were nearly pressed against his temple. Then, she spoke in a dreamy whisper, "I slept with the It Girl."

Moody pulled away, eyes wide. Y/n just giggled again like she couldn't believe it. She laid down on her side, eyes fluttering closed as she hummed the tune of Tiny Love. "Big eyes, big soul, big heart, no control, but all she got to give is Tiny Love."

She giggled like a maniac, seeming to find humor in those words then, and Moody went unnoticed as he stumbled out of the room, mind reeling at a million miles an hour. Y/n's giddy giggles floated up through the hallway after him, chasing him, until they finally came to a sudden stop.

The next morning she was awoken by Rod knocking at her door, yelling something about the bus leaving in ten. With a heavy pounding in her head, Y/n got up, and found she was unable to recall anything from the night before. Well, all except one thing―a thing that brought a little smile to her face when she recalled it.

After a sluggish bout of packing, the band was off to the next city―Sacramento, they told her. Good. She missed California.

All was normal for the drive. All except Moody. He hardly spoke to her, despite being a very talkative person normally. And when she did address him directly, he responded in as few words as possible. He was angry with her―they had been friends long enough for Y/n to be able to recognize that much. Eventually she gave up on trying to coax him to conversation and sat by Daisy, leaning her head on the girl's shoulder to try and get some sleep.

They made a stop before the hotel at some dinky dive bar to meet with Jonah Berg, a reporter for Rolling Stone. They sat around a table and drank, talking a little about the album and a lot about where they were headed next.

When things began to wind down and the band started to pack up, Jonah noticed Moody standing at the back of the room, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at no one in particular. Something about him looked like a story waiting to happen.

"Are you with the band?" he asked.

"Sure, you could say that."

Jonah lowered his voice. "Then what's got you looking all stormy?"

Moody paused, grappling with his next decision. He could either say it was nothing and tell Jonah Berg to buzz off, which, in all respects, would be the better choice. Or, he could tell the truth. And that, of course, would be disastrous. But people often made the disastrous choice when their feelings were involved.

Then he looked back at Y/n and Daisy, swaying together as Karen played a bluesy tune on the piano, and his heart constricted in his chest.

And then he made his decision.

DAISY: February 12, 1976. The day I almost committed murder.

Y/N: Okay, it wasn't that dramatic.

DAISY: [silence]

Y/N: Okay, maybe it was.

When Daisy walked into sound check that day, an hour and a half late, she did not find the band playing their instruments and practicing songs. Instead they all sat around atop their amps and chairs, with Rod standing at the back. All eyes turned to her the second she walked in. Well, all except Y/n's. She was sitting on the stage, legs tucked to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Karen and Warren sat behind her, each holding a comforting hand on Y/n's shoulder. And even though she had no idea what was going on, Daisy could only think about how it should be her comforting Y/n before anyone else.

"Are you just going to keep on staring, or am I allowed to know what's going on?"

And then Billy held out The Rolling Stone. "See for yourself."

KAREN: When Y/n read through that article, it was like watching a car crash in slow motion. She got all teary and quiet, and then she just shut down. She wouldn't talk to anyone. But Daisy? Daisy got mad. So mad it looked like she was going to burn the world down.

Daisy gripped The Rolling Stone with white knuckles. It had everything. From the time they met, to that night in Henderson. It was like they had ghosts following them everywhere, whispering in Jonah Berg's ear. Daisy didn't dare look at Y/n now, mostly because she couldn't quite be sure yet that this wasn't her own fault.

After she had finished reading, she threw down the article and stomped towards the phone in the corner. "That son of a bitch."

Rod stepped in. "Daisy, hold on―"

"No! If that bastard thinks he can just ruin my career for the sake of his own, then he can hear it from me exactly what kind of hell his life is about to become."

"Look, Daisy, if it's not true, we can call Jonah and work this all out."

Daisy stopped, the receiver floating in her hand, her chest heaving.

"Daisy?" Rod said, "It's not true, is it?"

The band went silent, looking towards Daisy. Her head was dropped, red hair shielding her face from them. Slowly, the hand holding the receiver dropped, and Daisy turned to them, her pale face flushed red. And instead of angry, she just looked hopeless. That was all it took to make them understand.

After a moment of silence, Y/n finally spoke up, "Who would do this?"

"Whoever it is, they know everything," Billy said, "that's a pretty short list."

Graham frowned. "Hang on, you're not saying that one of us did this, are you?"

"No, I'm just saying that it's not like we have a very long suspect list."

"Oh! So we're suspects now!"

"Graham―"

The door opened and the band looked over to see Moody walk in. All at once they fell silent. And as Y/n watched him walk in, it all clicked. A gasp ripped through her throat and she covered her mouth, sickness swirling in her stomach.

Moody seemed to understand too. "Guys, hang on―"

Daisy muttered something under her breath and ditched the phone, stomping towards Moody with her hands curled into fists. Rod and Billy just about leaped off the stage to hold her back. None of them wanted to witness the bloodbath that was sure to occur if Daisy got her hands on Moody.

"Did you do this?" Daisy demanded. Moody stayed silent and she laughed. "Come on, you might as well own up to it now!"

"Guys!" Karen shouted. Daisy turned, ready to scream for everyone to stay the hell out of this, but her words died on her tongue when she saw Y/n run backstage, followed by the deft slamming of a door. Everybody looked back at Daisy. She looked back at Moody, fury blazing in her chest like a dozen white hot suns. She wanted to throttle him and stomp on his head.

But she didn't know where Y/n was going. And she'd rather know that before she killed her best friend.

Daisy turned on her heel, stomping away in the direction that Y/n left. Moody let out a sigh of relief when she disappeared, the door slamming behind her. "Crazy..." he muttered, looking back at the group. He was met with six steely glares, and that's when he realized he was in a room full of people who probably hated him now.

Daisy saw her at the hotel bar, sitting alone. She was so quiet and still that it almost made her want to cry. Y/n was hurt. And worst of all, she was hurt by one of her best friends. That had to sting like hell.

Daisy quietly sidled up beside her, taking the seat next to her. "Whatcha got there?"

"A cherry coke," Y/n responded. Daisy gave her a look and she just shook her head. "Believe me, I'd rather be drinking something that would make me forget. But it's not even noon and I've been thinking about quitting."

That was a lie. The quitting part, not the part about it not being noon yet.

"So that's what it is then, huh?" Daisy asked with a wry grin, but there was something behind it. Something a little sadder. "Just a stupid news article?"

Y/n turned to her immediately, eyes softening. "Daisy," she said softly, "of course not. You know that."

"Well, now so does everybody in the world."

She quieted, nodding and taking a sip from the glass. She sat it back down, sighing. "So, do we..."

Y/n trailed off, her eyes drifting behind Daisy. Daisy turned her head and saw Moody leaving the theater. He stopped in place, looking at them as though he were watching open heart surgery. Y/n murmured something quick to Daisy and let her go, heading in towards Moody.

For a moment he thought she might slap him, and for a moment so did she. But instead she stared him dead in the face with the same eyes he'd seen on every birthday, every holiday, every good memory. And right then, they looked so hardened that he could barely recognize them.

"Is this what you wanted?" she asked, her voice laced with warning. He gave no response. She continued. "I have spent my entire life trying to figure out who I am―you know that better than anyone. For the first time...I think I did. I think I finally understand."

She glanced back at Daisy, then back to Moody. "And you had to fuck that up for me."

He again said nothing.

"I think it's best if you go home," she said. "If you try and get on that bus tomorrow, I'll have Rod call the cops. Better yet, if I get back to my hotel room tonight and you're there, I might just throw you out the window. And I'm on the tenth floor, so I wouldn't take that chance."

Daisy couldn't hear a word she was saying, but the look of horror on Moody's face told her all she needed to know. And with it she felt some sense of pride.

Y/n walked away, leaving him frozen in place. She held out a hand to Daisy. "Come on."

And Daisy just grinned, taking Y/n's hand and letting her pull her out of her seat and guide her away. She cast one last fiery glare at Moody before he disappeared from sight, immediately melting into a smile while Y/n drew her to the elevators.

He had been her best friend for over two decades. And right then she couldn't bear to be around him.

DAISY: I was ready to burn him at the stake. Unfortunately, my wife is a little more forgiving than I am.

Y/N: He was in our wedding party, on my side behind Karen and Eddie. I knew he felt bad for what he'd done, and he apologized about a million times. He'd been one of my best friends since I was little. It would've been hard to cut him out of my life, and it was hard to keep him in it. But time healed the shallower wounds, society warmed up to some things, and life got easier. I just feel glad that I got to a point in my life where I could find it in myself to forgive him.

Less than twenty minutes later, the pair were in Daisy's hotel room, arms wrapped around each other, each lying comfortably on the spacious king-sized bed. They'd talked for a while, then lapsed into a comfortable silence, where they just held each other. That was all they felt they could do.

But they were happy. As Daisy ran fingers through Y/n's hair, it occurred to her that right then, she felt less complicated than she ever had in the past. It felt like the sun had finally peeked out from behind the clouds to shed some life on her life and who she was. So Daisy, finally feeling like she was bathed in spotlight, smiled. "Fuck Rolling Stone."

And Y/n, who felt like decades-old wounds were healing, laughed. "Fuck Rolling Stone."

[heartofsnark]

A Simple Request For An Unsimple Man (Gale x Fem!Oc Tav)

Author's note: Hello, it's certainly been a minute since I've been able to post fic here without worrying about formatting bullshit (love so much that my longest running fic can't be posted here because it relies on italics/formatting techniques within the first 50ish chapters and tumblr makes that a headache)But, I've found myself sinking a bit into BG3/Gale hell and after some prompting my @shallow-gravy about a comment I left about Gale being able to summon a bed, I decided this might be a fun idea and oops have a thirty page one shot! So, have something featuring my tav- Petra and Gale. Still not sure of what I"m doing with these characters, but hey~

Summary: Petra and Gale are more than a little clumsy in the ways that they love, both having their own significant dry spell when it comes to romance and sexual desires. And while the two have shared themselves within the weave, Petra has made a simple request to share their physical bodies as well. Gale is not good at simple.

Warnings: Unprotected vaginal sex, praise kinks, creampies, cunnilingus (tav/petra in this is a cis female woman), fingering, mutual masturbation, tooth-rotting fluff (turns out I write fluff now), soft!dom Gale, and magical sex mishaps.

Petra's mind has been a maelstrom of worries for quite a while now, however, if someone had told her that amidst tadpoles, cults, and shadow cursed lands that her mind would be consumed with matters of the heart and loins- well, she'd think they were crazy. 

But, perhaps she's the crazy one. 

She never expected to love again, never expected to find someone who felt like home, or makes her heart stutter on every other beat. But she never expected to have a tadpole shoved into her eye or to pull a wizard from a stone- let alone for that very wizard be the one doing this to her. Life is full of surprises, as is her lover. 

Ugh, gods- she has a lover. 

The very thought makes her face burn, her heart pound, and her guts twist. If she didn't know any better she'd think herself ill, but alas- she's learned that's merely Gale's influence on her. The wizard needed no charms or illusions to win her affection, but he warned her early on- well before either of them had realized what was growing between them, that he had a taste for grand gestures. 

And grand they were. 

He conjured her stars and shifting auroras against an ink black night, he showed her his home, his sanctuary without her needing to step a foot into Waterdeep. And he plucked their very souls from their bodies, to kiss and touch and merge within a realm beyond their own. Glittering blue forms, never knowing quite where his touch ended and hers began, surrounded and consumed by him. An electric blur of his touch over her very being. 

She would have been content with a flower and a bowl of his deer stew, but who is she to turn down the adoration fueled gestures of a man she does not deserve. 

Which in part is why she can't help but suspect she might be being just a touch greedy…

Made all the worse by her greed and insecurity tugging her mind back and forth between them like rabid dogs would a slice of steak. 

In some ways she's already done the hardest part, confessing her desire to Gale felt like a herculean task in itself, a stumble of poorly put together words while her face burned hotter than Karlach's engine. But ultimately, she got the message across and Gale as always was far too eager to oblige.

Though, he seems intent to oblige her request in his Gale way of obliging.

Because, you see, her request is incredibly simple. Despite her anxiety and insecurity- she wants to fuck Gale the old fashioned way. She loved the way they bonded before and truly will jump to do it again, but she just can't help but also want the more mundane variety. To feel flesh and bone, to touch his skin, to press her lips against his throat and feel his pulse race beneath her tongue. This of course means he'll also be seeing her naked properly without blue blurry auras smoothing out her every- less excited for that, but her desire for him outweighs her shame for herself. 

And this simple request, frankly- could have been sated nearly the moment it was made in the privacy of his tent. He needed only to roll her onto her back or pull her to straddle his hips, a few garments tossed aside, the dark providing her with some some cloaking while still getting to feel and see him- gods bless darkvision. 

But that would be far too simple, her request instead met with a wide smile a; "Say no more, consider it done, my love," a kiss goodnight, and the looming knowledge that he was planning something. 

So, perhaps surprise is too strong a word when she returns to camp after a brief walk alone to find her companions snickering and Gale's mirror image standing outside his tent. Thin ripples of weave radiating through an otherwise perfect copy of her favorite wizard. She knows it could be perfect, saw him make one perfect before- the imperfections intentional, to let her know it's not him and instead a messenger. 

Petra skirts past her chattering friends, pretending she doesn't feel several sets of eyes following her as she stands before the replication of her dearest. Who merely beams with that bright smile that she's come to adore, even if it's merely a simulacrum of it. 

"Heh, I take it Gale has some plans for us tonight?" She whispers towards the mirror image, trying to keep prying ears from learning too much. Not that her and Gale are secretive about their relationship by any means, but not every one of their friends needs to know when they're having sex. 

"That he does and I have the most wonderous task of taking you to see him, words cannot begin to express how eager he is to see you tonight," the mirror image chirps, not even a hint of shame or volume control as his eyes burn with that same flame of adoration the real Gale always seems to carry- her face flushing beneath its heat.

"Ugh, hells you two are going to make me throw up a perfectly good meal, would you please take your simpering gazes elsewhere," Astarion calls out from around the campfire, a hint of a smile in his words, then his lips when Petra turns to glower at him. 

"I hardly think whatever shadow cursed vermin you've managed to snack on out here counts as a good meal- but rest assured, I am leaving." 

"But of course- after all your little magician is so very eager," he mocks again and if he weren't her friend, she'd kick his arse- still might. 

 "Oh lay off her, Fangs- it's cute, like two pups wagging their tails at each other." 

"I believe nauseating is the word you're looking for," Shadowheart chimes in, "I mean really, not a drop of shame between the two, every time he leaves behind one of those mirror images- he might as well just declare that they're about to go rut around in the woods all night." 

"Date nights are perfectly healthy for a newly bonded couple-"

"Dates- is that what you think they're doing out there? In the middle of nowhere, alone- you think they're, what, chatting about their favorite books over a glass of wine?" Astarion cuts Wyll off, incredulous that he would refer to Petra and Gale's outings as a date. 

"I mean, wouldn't really be all that shocked if they were- it is Gale, after all…" 

"Regardless, I think seeing our friends form such a union is something to be celebrated not mocked." 

"Their carnal desires are hardly any of our concern, so long as they remain vigilant in battle- however, I must say I do find it curious that the wizard always seeks to be hunted, he might as well submit outright if he cannot best her in combat." 

"Oh, I'm sure he does plenty of submitting." 

"I don't know 'bout that, Petra may be bossier but look at the poor thing- redder than a devil's arsehole, probably turns into a mess the moment clothes start comin' off." 

Petra grasps the mirror image's arm, her face burning hot and no doubt just as red as Karlach said. She hisses between gritted teeth;  "Get me the fuck out of here." 

"Your wish is my command, now- let us find more pleasant company," he assures her, quickly walking her away from the camp as their friends speculate about their sex life. 

"And by that, you mean yourself," she teases, leaning against the mirror image's arm. The conjured form isn't a perfect match, both from the rippling static like eminence of weave and it being a little less shameful than her Gale. But it carries his warmth, his smell- like the innards of an old library, cozy and welcoming. 

"Would you have it any other way?" 

"Gods no," she admits, burrowing her face into his arm, hiding her flushed cheeks from his view. 

"Careful now, I'd hate to be jealous of myself," Gale's voice rings out, more alive, more human and not right beside her- her head shoots up, the sky is bathed in shifting colors and twinkling lights. Her Gale just a short walk away; "Though I can hardly blame you, he is quite handsome." 

And that’s all she needs, letting go of the mirror image, the half-elf rushes towards him- the real him, a small laugh escaping Gale’s lips as she throws her arms around him. As nice as the fake one is, it will never feel as good as touching the real thing. His heat seeping in between their clothes, warming her skin- that must of old books and lavender offset slightly by the salt of his sweat. His large hands holding her in kind, one settling on the small of her back and the other stroking through her hair. She takes a deep breath, a heavy inhale and exhale of him, before finally lifting her head ever so slightly- enough to look up at him,

The way he looks at her could melt all of Frostfell. Those soft brown eyes looking at her like she’s hung the stars and moon, all the while he’s the one who’s conjured the sky above them. 

“A good evening to you too,” he greets, smiling so sweetly and she stands up on her tiptoes- Gale meeting her need as she presses a kiss to that very smile. The warm press of his mouth against hers sending heat and butterflies through her very veins, she breaks back before she can get carried away. Not wanting to ruin his plans, but struggling to stifle the desire to kiss him until her lungs ache. 

“Good evening,” she hums back instead, squeezing him tighter, her eyes looking around the wide field bathed in the glow of soft purples and blues. It’s largely familiar, the same space and view he created the night he brought their very souls together- when he confessed his fear, his love, and so much more. Where she pleaded for him to stay, for him to live. 

Though with one very new addition to the expanse of field- an extraordinarily out of place bed. Lavish and lush with deep indigo blankets, bathed in the glow of the sky and the burning of a torch mounted in the ground beside it- the addition betraying the reason they’re here tonight. 

“You know what I can’t help but notice?” Petra remarks after a beat of silence, a quiet moment of simply sinking into one another’s hold- blinking up at her wizard. 

“My dashing good looks?”He asks, a small smile and a raise of his brow. 

“Mm, yes, but no more than usual,” she plays along, smiling against him. Knotting her fingers in the plush purple of his tunic,debating on if she should slip her hands beneath the fabric- wanting to feel more of his skin. 

“My brilliant mind and ever expanding intellect?” 

“Well, that just goes without saying,” she assures him, heaping on the praise for him. 

“Hmm, than it must be my veritable wealth of charm and wit.” 

“Close and before you ask- no, it’s not your modesty either,” she teases, scratching her nails over his back through his shirt- trying to sate her ache to touch him, “What I can’t help but notice is that whenever you pull me away for a night via your mirror image- it seems to mean I’m the one left dealing with the whispers of our companions.” 

He grimaces slightly, somewhat between amusement and annoyance; “Ah, yes, a… much unfortunate consequence, but one we simply can’t avoid, I’m afraid.” 

“Oh, is that so?” She teases, laughing through her smile, “Funny how that unavoidable consequence seems to benefit you.” 

“Life is full of those funny little mysteries, I think it wise to embrace- not question, these curiosities.” 

“Thats quite a fancy way of saying you intend to keep throwing me to the wolves,” she chirps, pulling a hand back to slap him playfully in the ribs, he merely laughs because he knows exactly what he’s doing; “Do you know that right now, at this very moment- our friends gossiping like hens about which one us… takes the lead?” 

“Ah, yes, I’m… terribly sorry to have missed that conversation.” 

“And yet, I suspect you’re not sorry at all,” she comments, reaching upward she strokes through his hair-  tracing a streak of gray that curls around his ear, soft brown strands slipping between her fingers. He’s so lucky he’s so damned adorable. 

“Oh, but I am- absolutely contrite that I could not steal you away before their sordid chatter reached your ears- after all, I’m no more keen on our proclivities being the subject of discussion than you are,” he admits and she hums, a small smirk on her lips as he continues on, trying to insist he definitely feels bad about leaving the gossipy shit for her to handle. 

“Perhaps not, but you do seem keen on leaving me to handle it.” She points out again, cradling his jaw- his beard scratching her palm as she rubs her thumb along his cheekbone. Petra often wonders if he minds the callouses that cling to her skin. Her flesh so much rougher than his, he leans into her touch, presses his jaw to her hand. 

“And my apologies are most sincere, however if you still find yourself unconvinced- perhaps I can show you the depth of my remorse?” He asks, pressing his forehead to hers, lips a breath away, “You need only ask, demand any penance you deem fit-  and I will gladly pay it.” 

“Is that so?” 

“There is no sin against you, no matter size or severity,  that I would not repent for.” 

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t mind a kiss,” she admits, the only thought on her mind when his face is so close to hers- when his lips are just a breath away. When one tilt of her head, one jolt would crash their lips together. 

“Hmm, I think you may not have a full understanding of what penance means, my dear, typically-” 

“Gale,” she says, looking up at him with the sternest eyes she can manage- no doubt stopping him from prattling off the definition of penance. Because she’s in love with a sentient thesaurus. 

“Yes.” 

“You have until the count of three to kiss me and if you don’t- I’m going to bite you,” she threatens, not sure how much she wants him to listen- she does like biting him, “One-” 

“Thinking over my options,” he chimes, sing songy as he seems equally unsure of which choice he likes more. 

“Two.” 

“I do rather like your love bites, but your kisses are quite enchanting as well.” 

“Thr-” 

His lips press to hers, deeper than before. One of her hands twists in his tunic, the other in the his hair. He cradles her jaw and lower back, pulling each other closer, she can’t help the small sigh of happiness and bliss as his tongue pushes into her mouth. The faintest taste of his cooking still on his tongue, a hint of mint where he tried to clear it out-  maybe she should have been so kind. 

Their kisses are still clumsy, a slightly awkward press and swirl of tongues, both single and isolated for a year or more. But it feels like warmth and love and home in a way she can’t define, heat simmering between her thighs when the hand on her back moves lower. A broad palm playfully squeezing at her ass, tugging her closer, the grope of his fingers sinking into the plush of her flesh- a soft moan echoing from her throat, muffled by his tongue. 

They break apart, breathing ragged- hot puffs of air across each other’s lips. She can feel the heat clinging to the apples of her cheeks, mirrored in the flush that creeps beneath Gale’s beard. Petra grins up at his beautiful red face, the brown of his eyes nearly swallowed by the black of his pupil. 

“Three,” she whispers, catching his lower lip between her teeth and nipping playfully at the kiss swollen flesh. Gale groans, deep and throaty, sending molten heat right to her cunt. His lips pulls out from between her teeth as he pulls her into a desperate hungered kiss. 

It’s deeper than the last, even more ravenous and rough, both of his hands now groping at her backside- kneading at her flesh, feeling his fingers sinking into the plush of her flesh through her clothing. Wishing his hands were beneath her clothes, on her skin, pressing into her properly. 

She tugs at his hair, scratches her nails along his scalp as he kisses her deeper and deeper, her lungs burning by the time she feels the back of her thighs bumping something soft. Breaking off the kiss to see she’s somehow been staggered back to the bed. It’s plush blankets and rows of pillows beckoning her. She can’t help but giggle. 

“Couldn’t settle for a dirty bedroll, could you?” She teases, stealing another soft kiss. 

“The least I could do for your comfort, time spent together in the flesh should be no less beautiful than that spent in the celestial- whatever way you’ll have me, I wish only to make it perfect for you.”

“Then… wish no more,” she murmurs, voice soft as she avoids the intensity of his gaze, the adoration that consumes his words and expression, “You’re here with me, I could not imagine anything more perfect than that.” 

“Careful now, keep talking that way-  you may never be rid of me,” he tries to joke, to tease- but when she forces herself to look back up at him, she can see the flush of his cheeks deepening as his smile widens. 

And with everything that still hangs in the air- Mystra’s unreasonable request, the knowledge that a part of him still doesn’t feel certain of whether he’ll see the end of this journey. The fact he may still make that choice, that he very well still might leave her in some desperate attempt to save the world. She throws her arms tight around his neck, latches her nails into his skin as she tugs him closer, closer. His nose bumping her own, his forehead back flush against hers. 

“I truly hope that I could be so lucky,” she rushes out, reiterating her wish- her plead again. That he’ll stay here with her, that she will never be rid of him- that on the other side of this whole ordeal is a future where his story stays enmeshed with her own. That she’ll not have to lose another love, not sure her heart could stand it. 

Then it’s another clash of lips, tongue, and teeth- not even sure who started this one, both desperate to get their mouths on each other. And for a moment, she feels herself lifted, feet off the air- she giggles into his kiss before the world shifts every so slightly, her back thumping down onto the soft blankets. Her weight sinking into the plush of the mattress, Gale smiling at her lowers a knee to the bed and climbs up, settling above her. 

Adoration, the word comes to mind over and over again whenever he looks at her. Brown eyes soft and clear with nothing but that emotion, letting it sink in through her skin and into her bones, consuming her wholly. She never thought she loved brown eyes so much, disliking her own for so long- but on him they’re so beautiful. Warm and filled with more love than she’s could ever hope to deserve. 

She cups his face and pulls him down for another kiss, never satisfied. He said before that moment with her could sate him for a lifetime and while the sentiment still rattles her to her very soul- she can’t say she relates, feeling as if she could have a million with him and still beg for one more, for another, another, another. Not enough time in the universe for how much she wishes to spend with him. 

Her hands tug at his tunic, reaching one beneath- no longer able to suppress the desperate need to just touch him. To feel his skin beneath her fingers, warm flesh and coarse body hair, the soft skin of his stomach. A layer of plush with a hint of firmer muscle beneath, when she presses a little harder. Their lips part again as Gale leans back onto his knees, which sink into the bed on either side of her hips. 

She skims her hands down his hips and thighs as Gale grips at his shirt, tugging it off- carefully putting it aside. Petra’s eyes roaming the open exposed flesh of his chest and stomach. The celestial version of him gorgeous, but not truly doing him justice. Smooth glowing blue aura not showing the dark body hair that scatters across his chest, trailing down his stomach and leading to below his waistband. The occasional freckle and even rarer scar that decorate his skin. 

Even the mark on his chest, the symbol where the orb took root in his chest. Bruised in the middle, tendrils sweeping out from it- the ones that curl up the left side of his throat growing fainter as they stretch out to vanish beneath his beard- connected faintly to the prominent veins that ghost below his eye. She hates what that thing has done to him, how it’s hurt him- how it’s not being used as a threat against his very life, but even that she finds beautiful on his flesh. The mark of his mistakes, of his devotion to one who never deserved it, proof of him as a man who sought love in worship. His folly is as much a part of the man she loves as every virtue he carries in kind.

“Fuck,” she curses, all the words she can utter as she gazes at him. Admiring every inch of his body that’s been revealed to her. Realizing she’s rarely seen him shirtless, not counting the celestial plane and a few brief, awkward mistakes while navigating river baths in the early days of their travel. How odd that they’ve been so deeply intimate, yet she can’t say she’s seen him fully naked. 

Which means he has yet to see her fully naked as well- which scares her even more than the tadpole gnawing at the inside of her skull. 

“If you ever sought to deflate my ego, I must say- you’re doing a terrible job at it,” he teases, a brilliant grin on his face as her own burns with heat. 

"As if I'd ever embark on a such a fool's errand," she taunts, skimming her hands upward and feeling the heat of his skin. Raking her nails along his lower stomach, feeling the muscles tense beneath her hand, biting her tongue to not make any comments about belly rubs. 

"Hmm, given your…tendencies, forgive me if I remain unconvinced." 

She lets out a breath of a laugh- "You know, you're astoundingly disagreeable, for a man attempting to bed me." 

"Not to add to the matter, but I do believe we've past the point of 'attempting.'"

"I swear to the gods, I'm gonna learn magic just so I can cast silence on you one of these days," she threatens, pinching playfully at his flesh. 

"And I'd be honored to teach you, but for now- I hope finding other uses for my mouth will suffice," he offers, dipping down to kiss her again, bracing one hand to the pillows by her head- the other cupping her jaw. His thumb brushing along her cheekbone, a soft sigh muffled by his tongue pushing into her mouth. Her hands roam his torso, unable to settle fully on which part of him she wants to touch- his stomach, chest, sides, back, and shoulders all feeling so perfect beneath her fingers. 

His warm wide palm brushes down her jaw to her neck, heat and sparks rising to her skin wherever his fingers touch. Unable to help the way she squirms beneath his mouth and hands, the soft noises she whimpers into his kiss, against his tongue as her own presses into his mouth in kind. Burning heat aches between her thighs, barely touched but even the faintest of his kisses or the briefest brush of his fingers pulls desperation from her very soul. Pathetic in her need for him, 

Gale's hand leaves her skin for a moment, already cold without his touch, she drags her nails along his shoulder blades- tries to pull him down closer. Then his hand finds her ribs, presses against her side molten warm on her chilled skin. Caught between relishing in the brush of his fingers and the way her insecurities make her body go rigid. Her hope that he may not notice dashed the moment their kiss breaks apart, ragged breath and flushed face not betraying the concern that knits his brows- the worry carved into every line of his face. 

"Is everything alright?" He asks, voice lower and rougher, lips swollen and wet- strands of hair beginning to fall and stick against the sweat that beads along his forehead. 

"Yeah, yes, of course," she insists, her own voice rougher than she expects as she tries to cram down the bubble of anxiety in her ches- desperate not to ruin her or Gale's night. 

"Petra, I would never claim you to be an open book, but you are one that I feel most adept at reading- though, I could still clearly still use some slight guidance and for that I'll need your words. Tell me what is wrong, so I may make it right, please," he tries again, with more words and more conviction- his hand lifting to brush her hair behind her ear, his thumb dragging along the sensitive point. A little chill curls along her spine in response. 

"It's nothing, really," she murmurs, smoothing her palm along his neck- tracing along the tendrils of blacked raised flesh that curls from the orb. Wondering again, if the callouses and scars of her hands bother him. 

His hands are softer than hers, more versed in flipping book pages and casting spells than hunting or stealing. He's mentioned spas and bathhouses in Waterdeep, and she wonders what balms or lotions he'd be using were their supplies not so limited. He's not without his scars, she knows- but even the raised flesh feels softer on his body than hers. Subtle faded burns from cooking and casting mishaps alike, a raised crease on his forehead from summoning a toy he wanted as a child- only to have the wooden train set appear and thunk down atop his head. 

Her scars and memories aren't so kind. No stories as sweet or kind. No fuzzy nostalgia for raised lashmarks on her back or thighs. No warm feelings about the scar across her lip, the only thing her mother deemed fit to let her keep, the same scar Gale must feel every time they kiss. 

Gale has suffered truly and she would never suggest otherwise, she'd sooner fist fight Mystra than deny the pain he's endured, the pain he is still enduring. However, when he hears him talk of his childhood, his mother, Tara, his education- she can't help but feel like a tragedy in comparison. A pitiful thing next to him. Nowhere near worthy of his adoration, his efforts, his love… 

"If it weighs on your mind, then it is not nothing." 

"Okay, so… it's nothing, but it is silly," she tells him, scratching her thumbnail through his beard, hoping to distract him. 

"Then if it is so silly and inconsequential, there will be no harm in telling me, will there?" He says, her nose wrinkling, he's so stubborn, "My aim is not to push you into telling me anything, but what kind of man would I be to notice your discomfort and continue on as if I hadn't?"

"Okay, okay- if you must make sense," she huffs and pouts, chews on her lip and avoids his gaze as she turns her head to the side, "I just am a little…insecure. Without the weave smoothing out my scars, blurring my freckles, and softening me- well, it helped make me someone worth touching." 

Her admission hangs in the air for a moment, her chest rigid with tension and swollen with a bubble of anxiety. He must think she's exhausting, asking this of him then getting so worked up over it. Her desire for him outweighing but not fully dealing away with her own insecurities. Truthfully, she'd have been content to strip Gale down,kiss and touch him to her heart's content- while never letting his hands graze her. But, he always has a way of taking the lead when it comes to these things. A fact that can never make its way back to camp. 

A soft kiss presses to the side of her lips, where that scar cuts jaggedly through them. Another against her jaw, her forehead, her cheeks as warm welcoming hands cup her face.

"Look at me, my love." He brings her gaze to his. Her heart lurches up into her throat, skin burning beneath the intensity of Gale's expression. "There is no plane or realm or state of being in which you are anything less than a person worth touching. You are my hope and my light- and no matter how or where you are presented to me, you will always be the most beautiful thing I have set my eyes on. The stars, the moon, the sun, the very heavens themselves- you put them all to shame…" 

She feels like she's been set ablaze. Her face nearly glowing with its heat, eyes wet, and the chill of the night a distant memory as his words burn through her very being. And he means them, gods help her- he means them. Able to hear and feel the conviction in every syllable, see his earnestness in the lines of his expression, in the spark alight in his eyes. And she will never know what she did to deserve him and she will always fear that she may lose him, but she is so happy to have him, 

"Ugh, gods, fuck- Gale," she curses, stuttering on her words because she has nowhere near his grasp on the English language, "I don't really know how the hells I'm supposed to argue with that." 

"So don't," he says, the request surprising in its brevity. His lips press to the corner of her eye, Petra realizing a moment too late that tears had started to streak down her face. 

He kisses down the path of her tears, her jaw, her neck craning to the side as he buries his face against her throat. Feverish and heavy kisses across her skin, her arms wrap tight around his back- digging her nails into his shoulder blades as he bites tenderly at her skin, laving his tongue across the sting he left behind. She groans as he sucks harshly, nips at her pulse point, and she can't help but squeeze her thighs together- trying to get a bit of relief, everything he does just making her needier. 

She curls her hand into his hair, twisting the silver streaked strands around her fingers as Gale kisses along her collarbone. Careful as his teeth graze where the skin stretches thinner over bone, the briefest edge of pain soothed over by the lap of his tongue. She moves the hand not tugging at his hair down his chest, skimming down his stomach, and finally presses her open palm to his groin- feeling his cock hardening in his pants, the heat of him through the fabric. A rough, nearly pained groan echoes against her collarbone. His forehead suddenly pressed to her shoulder, twitching beneath her touch.

“Too much?” She whispers against his ear, worried she may have pushed too far too soon. Far too aware despite her eagerness that neither of them have had physical sex in  a year or more- probably more, considering his time with Mystra. 

“No such thing with you,” he says through a raspy breath, his lips catching hers again as his hands brush up her sides- warm open palms stroking up the taunt freckled skin of her stomach. Stoking a fire that burns inside of her, heat rising to the very surface of her flesh as grinds her palm against him. Desperate to give him even a hint of the same heat burning in her. 

His movements halt as his fingers brush the edge of her cropped nightshirt, kiss breaking as his eyes meet hers, a surprisingly silent request from her wizard. Reluctantly, she pulls her hands from his hair and cock, Gale provides her the space as she sits up to hook her fingers beneath the edges of her shirt and tug it up off over her head. Petra tosses it aside, shaking out her hair and trying not to overthink being naked from the waist up. 

Every fiber of her being screams that she should cover her chest, having gained some weight since traveling with Gale- his cooking having put a few pounds on her, but sadly none of those managed to reach her tits. Small and fuller at the bottom than the top, freckled like damn near every other inch of her. 

But as always, there is nothing sheer adoration in Gale’s eyes and with a little press of his palm on her sternum her back is hitting the sheets again. The blankets and pillows all the softer on her bare skin, sinking down into the blush of it. Warmth of the sheets and his hand a contrast to the chill of the open air that’s snuck back in, her nipples stiffening as a breeze taunts her. 

Her legs spread for him as he moves closer, allowing him to slot himself between her thighs- a gasp on her tongue when his cock brushes against her core. Cloth grinding against her wet clit, feeling the outline of him against her. She groans and tries to wrap her legs around his hips, only for his hand to find her thigh- a steady palm pressing it back against the mattress. And his other hand finds hers, his large warm palm eclipsing hers, fingers intertwining with her own- as he presses another quick kiss to her lips, the next to her collarbones, another to the top of her breasts, then the heat of his mouth is around her nipple. 

“Fuck,” she curses, a hiss of breath as pleasure sparks across her skin- Gale sucks harshly at her chest, teasing her nipple with his tongue, just the hint of his teeth on the fullest part of her breast, and the scratch of his beard on her skin. 

She whines and whimpers, fingers knotting in his hair- his hands on her hand and thigh keeping her pinned beneath his weight, only able to arch and squirm against his mouth. Her hips try to writhe on instinct, trying to find friction against her core, trying to refind it. But he presses a little harder on her thigh, keeping his full weight off her, too much empty space between them for her to be sated. A frustrated whine in her throat as he pulls off her breast with a soft wet sound, not offering her any relief to her core or even acknowledgement of his torture, only a small hungry groan as he takes her other breast into his mouth. 

The air feels even colder on her spit slick chest, nipple swollen and redder, a scratch of flushed beard burn left behind. Sharp contract making her squirm all the more as he makes the other match. Her sounds pathetic and needy, as he teases her sensitive chest. Every swipe of his tongue, brush of his teeth, scratch of his beard, and hungry reverberating groan against her skin sends a pulse of pleasure between her thighs. 

“Gale,please,” she keens, not even sure what she’s begging for, more or less- if she’s squirming to press herself tighter to his face or trying to escape the laving of his tongue on her body. But she can only whine when her cry is met with a groan that echoes against her, reverberates in her bones, seeps through her veins, and settles in the wet heat between her thighs. 

His lips pull away from her chest, the hand that had been pressed into hers slips away- palm stroking down her forearm, along her collarbones as Gale’s mouth moves lower. Soft kisses beneath the curve of her breast, down the middle of her stomach, his thumb brushing over her nipple- his fingers nearly chasing after his mouth as he moves down her body. Lips kissing over her belly button as he squeezes at her breast, the sink of his hands into the squish of her chest, large warm hand groping and teasing while he works his mouth even lower. 

“Gale,” she whines again, as he presses her thigh tighter to the bed, his beard scratching just at the waistband of her pants. His hand skims down from her breast, fingers pressing soft divots into her hip. Then hook into her waist band, her thigh released finally as he mirrors the gesture of his other.His deep brown eyes looking up as her. 

“May-” 

“Please,” she cuts him off, hissing her consent, the ragged sound of his voice only making her desparate for more of him. He smiles, far too sweet for a man about to strip her naked- another soft kiss beneath her navel and then he’s tugging her clothes down. 

She does her best to make it easy for him, lifting her hips as he rolls the fabric down them, moving her legs as needed when he finally yanks the clothes from her body. Her dearest magician having made sure to grab her underwear with them as well. Petra laid completely bare before him, The air just as cold on the slick  heat of her cunt as it’s been to her split slick breasts. A chill curling along her spine, reminding her that despite the plush mattress and the soft downy blankets hugging her skin, they’re unmistakably outside. Conjured bed in the midst of the field, twinkling stars and kaleidoscopes of colors still dancing over head- bathing her blush touched skin in their glow. 

Petra presses a hand to her mouth, trying halfway to hide her crimson face as her other hand hovers to hide her cunt. She can’t imagine the sight she must make- red faced, tangled hair against the pillow, throat mottled by his teeth, chest marked with saliva, the red scratch of beard burn lingering along her flesh and slick clinging to the meat of her thighs. The mess his mouth has made of her on full display. 

His fingers are warm and reverant when they wrap around her wrist, plucking her hand from where it covers her cunt- exposing her even further as he presses a kiss to her palm. 

“None of that, my love,” he whispers against her skin. Her nose wrinkles, heat still burning through her face- no words find her, so she pulls her hand from her mouth and sticks her tongue out at him. Feeling his smile against her palm, a soft nip of teeth against her wrist. 

His hand falls away from her wrist, Petra scratches her nails through his beard before allowing her own to drop. A gasp catching in her throat when the broad warmth of his palms presses against both of her thighs. Her knees bending as she allows him to spread her further apart, even more exposed- even more on display than she felt before. His deep brown eyes reverent and nearly eclipsed by his pupils as he looks down at her slick cunt- Petra squirms against the sheets and the press of his hands. 

“Gods,” he breathes out, her heart stuttering in her chest, “I could study for ages, read every tome and scroll in all of Faerun and still never be able to conjure a more beautiful sight than you.” 

“Gale…” She whines, burying her face in her hands- burning beneath his gaze and words, how can he say these things without a singular fucking drop of shame? And how can he mean every single word of it?

“I’m right here, love,” he answers, pressing his face into her inner thigh- soft lips and the scratch of his beard, her breathing hitches as he kisses her flesh. Another moving further inward, along her skin. His tongue licking the slick that clings to her, his teeth nipping bruises into her thigh. 

She squirms and writhes, anticipation coiling tight inside of her, only one goal with the direction of his kisses. Every lick and bite jolting phantom pleasure to her cunt, insides clenching and aching for something more direct, to feel that scratch of his beard and the lave of his tongue where she needs it most. No matter how embarassing the idea is. Need outweighing shame. 

And as he moves further between her thighs, he lowers himself down, closer and closer- the skin feeling all the more sensitive as he nears her cunt. His hands and arms shifting, pushing beneath her thighs- a warm support of flesh and bone, his palms settling on her hips, before pressing down. His steady hold preventing her squirming, pinning her in place as he sucks a harsh mark into her skin. 

“Please, Gale,” she whimpers, twisting both her hands into his hair, trying to squirm her hips to no avail. 

“You have not an ounce of patience, do you?” He murmurs against her thigh, blunt edges of his teeth nipping at her flesh. 

“Absolutely fucking not, not with you,” she whines, words burbling out, “I need you, please.” 

A smile pressed into her skin and she can see it in her mind, even if she can’t through her thigh- she bites her tongue, waiting for his words to spill forth again. Waits for more waiting. Waits for another three part sentence and enough verbiage to put a dictionary to shame, all needed before he may finally put his fucking mouth on her. 

The brush of breath on her wet cunt, his head shifting between her thighs- beneath her fingers and the heavy lave of his tongue through her center. Pleasure shockwaves through her, a half stuttered curse on her lips as her hips jolt and her fingers dig into his scalp. His hands press down harsher on her hips, mattress and blankets denting beneath her, keeping her still as the heat of his mouth consumes her every thought and feeling. 

A practised tongue works her over, laving through her slit, dipping inside of her and lapping at the slick that rushes out of her. Each swipe of his tongue only drawing more from her, making her cunt clench around his tongue, feeling herself soak the scratch of his beard. A hungry groan against her, reverberating and twisting the coil inside of her tighter, sounding like a man starved- her insides burn, her hips try to writhe, to find even more friction as his tongue traces every inch of her. 

Groans and wet noises against her, echoing and hanging in the open air, mingling with the nonsense of whines and pleads that she can’t seem to stop. Body and voice hardly her own as she's taken apart by every hungry lick into her cunt, pleasure burning hotter and coil dragging tighter. 

A bump of his nose against her swollen clit and she's thrown over the edge, embarrassingly easy, a thunder of pleasure through her veins- coil snapping and body on fire as it consumes her very being. Only distantly aware that she's thrashing, gasping, and pressing down harsher on Gale's skull as her body jolts. Pleasure ravages her, his tongue and lips toying with her clit all the while, Gale burying his face into her as he pushes her end further and further, harsh sucks on her swollen flesh, pushing her back into ecstasy's grip anytime it threatens to let her go. 

Not so much as cumming again, but Gale refusing to let her stop. Drawing her pleasure out, the faintest sign of it waning met with a firm nearly painful swipe of his tongue or suck against her clit, tracing patterns against it that her blanking mind can’t make sense of- only able to call his name and thrash beneath him, as pleasure edges to near pain. 

And finally, he pulls away from her, orgasm crashing down and away to faint tremors versus an active quake. Her throat raw and aching from the noises he pulled from her, cunt throbbing and clenching at the sudden relief and gut wrenching absence- both somehow existing at once. Both missing his mouth and happy to be afforded the chance to come down from her high. 

Her breaths are ragged and raw, coming back to her body. Shame aching painfully in her chest, needling at her hammering heart. The first physical bodily orgasm wrung from her by another’s hand in two years. Brought to her end by the stray bump against her clit. Her celestial form not only prettier, but able to endure far more- it seems. 

And that shame only grows as the world fully returns to her, realizing just how tight her hands are wrenched in his hair- how harshly she’s pressing against his skull. His breath ragged and hot against her wet thigh, slick with sweat and more. And she can hear how out of breath he is, how she nearly stole the very air from his lungs- nearly drowned him in her. 

“So-sorry,” she whispers, letting him go and hiding behind her hands, hating how desperate and ragged her voice is, “I uh, shit- didn’t mean to- I could’ve suffocated you, I’m so sorry, fuck-” 

For all her begging him to live, to stay- she nearly killed him with her fucking vagina. Because of fucking course that’s something she’d do. A pathetic excuse for a person, a lover, and just an existing thing. 

A huff of breath from him, hot on her already burning skin- it’s light and bubbles into a small laugh, another kiss to her thigh. The bed shifts beneath her, his arms and hands pulling away- Petra dares to peek between her fingers. Gale moves over her- his cheeks ruddy with exertion, his hair sweaty and mussed, beard and lips wet with slick. His grin only wider, more boyish when he meets her eyes through the gaps of her fingers- his own wrapping around her wrists.

Delicately, he prises her hands from her face. 

“I can think of no better death, than one between your thighs.”

She snorts, a breathless laugh,; “Oh yeah, sure, and I’d be the one stuck explaining your naked corpse to K'ha'ssji'trach'ash.” 

“He may appreciate the chuckle, but do remember the ‘chhh’ sound, comes from the back-”

“I know,” she retorts bluntly, her wizard only laughing in response. She can still remember how her nerves rattled the first time she was tasked with saving Gale’s life. Not evening knowing at the time just how much more precious that life would become to her. Terrified of saying a single wrong syllable of the mephit’s name, moving the thread to the wrong side, or hiting a wrong note on that stupid fucking flute. 

Keeping him alive will be the death of her, but as he settles slightly next to her- arms curling beneath and around her- her cunt still throbbing with her drawn out orgasm, his body warm, and his open palm cupping her jaw… She can hardly say she’ll mind. 

“I must say, I do feel assured knowing you’d bring me back again.” 

“Of course, as many times as it takes,” she admits, her next breath swallowed by his lips. His tongue heavy with the taste of her, his kiss and beard wet with her slick, a muffled groan in her throat at the very thought. 

She chases to deepen the kiss as much as she can, pressing into his chest- resting her hand over his forearm. Her tongue pushes deeper into his mouth, her insides aching again, even with the throb of near pain between her thighs from her overstimulation. The soft wet sound of their kisses, her own sigh muffled between their mouths as his mouth starts to taste less like her and more like him. 

His forearm flexes beneath her fingers, his palm leaving her jaw, the other hand still holding her close and brushing her ribs. Before she can break the kiss or see where his other hand is traversing, she feels his fingers on her lower stomach and skimming down her body. 

“Gale,” she whispers against his lips, thighs squeezing together- his fingers already teasing along her mound, scratching through the sparse patch of dark hair above her cunt. He hums against her cheek, pressing a kiss to her jaw- “I can’t… again.” 

Her words are stuttered and breathy, not at all convincing- she’s still thrumming after her last orgasm, cunt still aching and sensitive, every cell of her being an exposed livewire he seems intent to keep playing with. 

“You can’t… do what exactly?”He asks, voice edged with teasing as he bites at her jawline. Her thighs draw tighter together as his finger start to push between them. Whining as he kisses at her neck and she can already feel that coil starting to twist again. 

“Can’t- cum again, too, mm… too soon, let me touch you instead,” she manages through the kisses and bites against her throat. Petra starts to move her hand that’s been placed in the narrow space between their bodies, groping downward- frustrated with the fabric still clinging to his lower half. 

“There’s never too soon enough time to touch you,” he whispers against her throat. 

“Gale, please,” she gasps, feeling him groan against her as her palm cups him through his pants- hard within his clothes, twitching beneath her touch. 

“Spread your legs for me, dear,” he requests and she knows she’ll fall apart so quick, that the pleasure may ache into pain, but she needs him, the promise of his fingers too much. Petra clumsily obeying, spreading her legs;  “There we are, so good for me.” 

The words go start to her cunt, followed shortly by his fingers- the faintest brush over her swollen clit. She gasps, his name on her lips as she tries not to lose focus on where her own hand is, squeezing at his hard-on, trying to offer him some fraction of the pleasure he’s so persistent on pouring into her. A strained groan against her neck as his fingers start to swirl around her clit, a wet slide and building friction, already painfully close. 

“Fuck, Gale,” she hisses, haphazardly trying to yank at the laces of his pants- cursing herself that she can pick the strongest locks in Faerun but can’t yank open her lover’s fucking pants between the odd angle, not being able to properly see what she’s doing, the mouth at her pulse point, and the finger slowly pressing into her. 

“You already feel so perfect around me,” he speaks against her neck as a single thick warm finger pushes into her, opening her up, curling into her- her cunt clenching around him, her head thumping back against the pillows as she gasps. Soul sex aside, it’s the thickest thing she’s had in her in years, her own thin nimble fingers not comparing to his broad palms and long thick fingers. 

“Please, please, Gale,” she breathes, not sure if she’s asking for more fingers or for help undoing his pants. Maybe both. 

She gets a kiss beneath her ear, another finger pushing into her- slow and methodical in his pace. Not seeking to push her into immediate orgasm again, but to stretch her further apart, to see how deep he can fill her with the twist of his fingers. That pleasure building, aching inside of her as his lips kiss up her ear. Small wet presses that sends little chills as he nears the pointed tips of her ears. Feeling herself coating his fingers in wet, slick and accepting as the press of his thick solid fingers. 

“You’re so beautiful, you’re taking my fingers so well,” he murmurs before kissing right at the point of her ear, nipping the sensitive skin and she jolts- face hot with pleasure and shame at how easy she is to take apart. 

Then he starts to pump his fingers, no longer idly stretching and curling, finding a rhythm as he rocks them in and out of her cunt. A desperate cry on her lips, fingers dragging in and out of her slick heat- toying and curling in to press at her nerves, only to pull back and push back in. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she cries, not able to come up with any other word- even when the laces of his pants finally come undone with her frantic tugging. Biting her lip and groaning when she can finally- finally, shove her hand down his pants, beneath his underwear, hard solid cock finally in her grasp as she barely manages to pull it free from his clothes. 

“Fuck,”Gale grits out, a rare curse for the wizard- for once all other words but profanity failing him. His fingers in her cunt pause as she wraps her own around him. The hand on her ribs pulls her tighter, as she feels the heat of him against her palm. Can feel the weight of his cock, can trace the veins along his length as she runs her fingers over him- the stick of precum when she touches the head. Gale breathing rough and ragged against her temple. 

“Gods, I can’t even get my fingers around you,” she blurts out, taking the rare chance to be the talkative one- surprised by just how thick he is in her hand. She’s no halfling or gnome, but her favorite wizard stands a good foot or more taller than her- size difference palpable in how her fingers struggle to meet around him. 

He bites beneath her ear,rocking his fingers back into her- pace harsher and rough as she tries to stroke him. Smearing precum down his cock as best she can, trying to make an easier slide of her hand up and down his cock, feeling it twitch against her fingers. A rough ragged groan against her skin, her insides clenching as his fingers fuck into her- thoughts of how his cock will feel, how much more it’ll split her open, making the drag of his fingers that much slicker. 

“So pretty in my arms, love- right where you belong, so sweet and desperate for me,” he rasps against her ear and she squeezes her fingers around him, feeling the stutter and stall in his hand inside of her. The strained growl against her jaw, his expression furrowed and tense- his jaw visibly clenched, eyes clenched shut. Perhaps the first time he’s fully taken his eyes off of her. 

He doubles his efforts between her thighs, working his fingers more harshly into her, fucking his fingers roughly into her. Each thrust and drag along her insides making her sees stars and not just the ones he’s conjured for her. Pleasure spiking higher and higher, building her up- her cunt clenching around him. She tries to work her own hand faster too, cursing herself for not having more experience with this sort of anatomy. 

And then a thought, a singular thought manages to surge above the fog his fingers have put into her mind. She needs it to be wetter, slicker, his precum helping but not enough for her liking. Her gestures are sloppy and messy, haphazard with need- pulling her hand off of him, he curses faintly, the feeling of his eyes back on her. She leans forward just a little to drool against her hand, gathering as much spit and saliva as she can, strands straining from her lips. Spit dribbling down her chin and she can only hope he’s not disgusted by the sight, but it’s left her hand wet. Another ragged breath, inhale and exhale against her as she wraps her spit slick fingers around him. 

His lips surge forward, catching her own in a messy crash, teeth clanging together as he kisses her- his tongue swiping to catch the spit that clings to her her skin, hungrily groaning into her mouth. She tries to keep up, tightens her grip as much as she can without fearing hurting him, her hand sliding up and down much easier with the glide of her drool and his precum. The piss poor excuse for lube allowing her to at the very least move her hand faster, trying to match the pace he’s set with his fingers inside of her. His palm presses down more firmly, the heel of hand finding her clit. A rough tempest of pleasure jolting through her nerves. 

And it’s a rough mix of kisses, moving hands. Being fucked apart by his fingers, grinding against her clit, pushing her closer and closer. A echoing squelch as he takes her apart, the wet slide of flesh against flesh as she strokes his cock- the hungry groans and soft sounds of their kisses, everything consuming her every sense. Pushing her closer and closer, coil pulling tighter, tighter. The drag and tease of him inside of her, the grind against her sensitive clit- the promise of what’s come with his cock twitching in her hand, the bite of his teeth against her lower lip. 

The world seems to split apart, crack open, and fall away from her- everything crashed into pleasure, thrown over the edge again. Twitching and writhing beneath his hand, hips thrashing and fucking herself through the shocks. The faint curse and snarl against her lips, the twitch in her hands- the heat of seed spilling over her fingers and hip

Then she’s falling, world truly carrening out from beneath her, yelping as her ass thumps painfully into the muck. A sharp jolt of pain through her tailbone, Gale trying to tug her closer, squeezing her tightly as the world physically shifts around them, his face burying into her hair. 

“Gods damn it.” 

Petra tries to process the sudden mix of just plain fucking pain. The cold cling of mud to her ass, blinking through the blissed out fog in her mind- no longer coated in the green blue glow of a shifting sky. No longer is her ass burried in a soft silken mass of blankets and sheets, now aching in the cold cling of muddy shadow curse dirt. The only light a mounted torch with faint flickering orange flames. There’s no traces of Gale’s illusions, just him and Petra- naked and sweaty in a patch of mud. The wizard holding her tightly, his face hidden in the top of her head- possibly the most bashful she’s ever seen him, even in their awkward little flirting moments, she’s never known him to physically hide his expression from her. 

“Gale… honey?” She says, using a rare term of endearment for her- those usually his territory. 

“Mmhm,” he hums vaguely against her scalp. 

“I have mud on my ass.” 

“As do I.” 

“Is there a particular reason why?” She tries, trying not to laugh as she tries to understand why he’s suddenly thrown them into the muck- if he wanted to rut in the dirt, she wouldn’t have been opposed to it, but it seems a little sudden and out of character for a man who still tries desperately to smell like lavender and bath oils while traipsing through the wilderness for days on end. 

“Ah well,” he murmurs, finally pulling back and allows her to see his face- cheeks ruddy, sweat beading his skin, his eyes looking down at his slick wet fingers, “Some conjuring and illusionary spells require… concentration to be maintained. And while my multitasking abilities are certainly exemplary,that focus can be particularly hard to keep when…” 

“When you’re getting jerked off?” 

“Not the wording I would have chosen, but- yes,” he admits, still avoiding her eyes. 

And she tries- she truly tries, biting her lip and gritting her teeth, because she wants to be mindful of his embarrassment. But her stomach tenses as a rush of laughter burbles out, snorting as giggles turn to cackles, pressing her hands to her mouth- body aching as she cracks up. 

She made him cum so hard the fucking spell broke. It’s so ridiculous, it’s so asinine, she can’t help but laugh- the pain in her tailbone now eclipsed by way her belly aches in laughter. And it only dies when she looks back at Gale, his head bowed slightly still- his eyes avoiding her and guilt eats at her heart. A part of her having hoped he’d be laughing along, that he’d see the humor in this. 

“Gale..” She whispers his name, her voice a little ragged and rough. 

“My apologies, I- this is not how I wanted this night to go for us, for you,” he explains, face far too contrite and shamed for what is just a silly little mishap, “I think, perhaps, another night if I conserve more of my energy during the day than I did today, I should be able to maintain the illusions for longer.” 

“Gale…” 

“Or perhaps, I can do just a little more research, see if I can find variations that require less concentration or maybe none at all,” he prattles onward, “I swear, my love, I can give you the night you deserve, I just may need more preparation than I expected, but I will make this up to you, I’ll-” 

“Gale!” She yells his name more firmly, finally looking at her- his eyes soft and vulnerable and she feels like she’s scolded a puppy but she leans forward to cup his face, “There is nothing for you to make up for.” 

“We’re lying in mud, my dear.” 

“Yes, we are lying in the mud and my stomach is streaked in cum because I jerked you off so hard you forgot how to be wizard for a minute- I’m not mad, it’s really fucking funny,” she reiterates, nuzzling his nose with hers as she tries to swallow her giggles- desperately trying to get him to just laugh. His lips curl into a shadow of a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach those big brown eyes. 

“Perhaps- but I didn’t bring you here to make you laugh, I brought you here to give you a perfect night, to make the joining of our bodies as beautiful as the joining of our souls. And we are lying in mud, you deserve more… I want to give you more.” 

“Gale, the night we joined souls you started off by showing me a book of people sixty-nining.” 

“A very poignant and beautiful book about newlyweds becoming one in every sense of the word-”

“By putting their mouths on each other’s genitals.” 

“That was one aspect of the process, yes- however-” 

She silences him with a kiss, soft and chaste- just enough to muffle the words threatening to pour from his lips. Petra pulls just a half breath away, leaning her forehead against Gale’s. Feeling the warmth of him, the cling of the sweat on both of them, smelling the salt of it on him. 

“I love you,” she murmurs, whispers it and hopes he can feel the adoration she pours into every syllable, meeting his gaze head on as her voice cracks, “I love you so fucking much and you’re so so much more than I deserve- and if you cannot believe that, trust that I do, that I truly mean it.” 

“I do, I truly do, I just, everything you’ve done for me, everything that you are- you deserve the world.” 

“And yet the only thing I want from it is you.” 

“Petra…” 

“So, for a moment, worry less about what you think I deserve and listen to what I want,” she asks, murmuring against his lips, skimming her thumb over his cheekbone, “I don’t need perfection and I don’t need pageantry and I don’t care if it’s messy or funny or weird- I want you, I need you. So please, let me have you. Don’t pull away, don’t scuttle off and worry yourself to pieces because something went wrong. Laugh with me, kiss me, fuck me- gods damn it.” 

“Anything for you, dear,” he says and their lips come together again, another reverent press of their mouths- she places her palm against his shoulder, pushing softly.

Quick witted as ever, he gets the idea- laying back for her and shifting off of his side, onto his ass properly as she throws a leg over his hips. His still hard cock bumping against her cunt as she settles on top of him. Breaking their kiss to pepper them across his jaw, nipping at his flesh through his beard, kissing down the marks that curl across his neck. Following them to the middle of his chest, where the orb burned through his flesh- pressing a kiss where the skin is forever bruised blue. The deep rumble of a groan in his throat making heat rush between her thighs. 

She sits back a bit, looking down at him- sweat tangled hair, ruddy cheeks, chest laid bare beneath her, and the faint orange glow of the torch light. Her hands run up his chest, thick and broad beneath her- body hair the roughest part of him, scratching beneath her palms. 

“Absolutely perfect,” she whispers, raking her nails along the swell of his pecs. 

“My thoughts exactly,” he returns, his hands gripping her hips as he smears a thumb through the streaks of cum still on her skin, and she can’t resist rolling her eyes- as if she wasn’t the one to initiate this round of corniness. 

Through the flickers of amber light, she notices a flash of deep purple fabric- Gale’s sleep shirt he’d tossed aside earlier. She lifts up a little further on her knees, leaning over him to reach for it, twisting her fingers in the soft fabric. 

“Eep!” She yelps at the sudden heat of his tongue and mouth on her chest, a sharp nip to the underside of her breast- “That is not why I was leaning over!” 

He smiles and laughs against her chest as she playfully swats at his chest, settling back to her position- his tunic still dangling from her fingers. Gale smiling up at her, too handsome for her to feel any measure of malice. 

“You can hardly blame for falling to temptation, especially when it comes to you.” 

“You underestimate just how much I’m willing to blame you for anything,” she teases before shifting forward just slightly- “Lift your back up a bit for me?”

“Of course,” he obliges, quickly getting her intent as they softly arrange his sleep shirt on the ground- it’s no four poster bed, but it’ll get his back out of the mud. 

“Not much, but-” 

“I feel positively pampered.” 

“Well, I do live to spoil you,” she teases back, considering for a moment wrangling his pants and underwear down further- his cock still the only thing that’s freed. But, that also means his ass has a modicum of coverage against the mud. Spoiling him again- obviously. 

Petra keeps one hand steady on his chest and the other reaches beneath her, feeling again the heat and weight of his cock in her hand. She hums, whines as she steadies her grip around the base of him- a groan deep in his chest, rumbling beneath her as she drags the head of his cock along her cunt. Her body aches with need as she lines him up with her entrance, Gale's hands grip her tighter. His fingers dip into her skin as his breath hitches and his jaw clenches tight. 

And she sinks down, her voice straining into a wordless cry as the head of his cock slides into her. Barely even inside of her and already stretching her wide, even having had him in her hand, but she needs to take a moment- not expecting just how much she’d be split open.Not painful, far too slick and ready for it to do anything feel incredible, if just a little new for her. 

A strained creak in his tone: “That’s it, no rush- take your time, if it’s too much, you only need to say the word.” 

“Gods no, no, it feels good- really fuckin’ good,” she assure him, voice rough and breathy, biting her lip as she starts to slowly lower herself down further, “So, so fucking good, fuck.” 

“There you are, taking me so well- perfect around me, like you were made for me,” he praises, voice gritted and his fingers grasping her tighter as her cunt clenches around him, the adoration stirring her insides as his cock buries within them. 

Every inch a deeper press, a tighter stretch, never painful but always full- like he could truly split her apar at any moment. But it’s never too much, the drag and sink of him perfect, absolutely perfect. A babble of breathless noise and nonsense on her tongue as she he carves a path into her- her hips finally settling when she’s about to scream out and there’s no more of him to take. Feeling the faint scratch of his body hair where they join, barely tugged down pants rough against her thighs and ass. 

The back of his head hits the dirt, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat- his eyes closed as his moves just slightly beneath her. Bracing his feet in the dirt, knees bending slightly as his hips lift up. Bucking inside of her, a sharp lightning strike of pleasure ripping through her- lurching her forward body forward, bracing her hands against his chest as she cries out. 

“Fuck!” 

“Ah, sorry, are you-” 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, I’m good, gods, I’m good,” she rushes to assure him, digging her nails into his skin, leaning forward to kiss at his jaw, groaning against his skin when it grinds him against her insides. 

Tentatively, she starts to rock herself on top of him, cursing as she starts to lift off him just a bit, whining at the drag of him inside of her. His hands allowing her to move, guiding her gently despite the harsh dig of his nails, digging red ragged crescents into her skin- blue bruises forming beneath his harsh touch. 

Petra barely pulls up before she lowers herself back down, his name on her lips as she’s filled with him again. Her grip on him only growing more desperate- more bruising, as she starts to find a harsher, quicker pace- bouncing herself on his cock, body thrumming and pleasure twisting tight as she tries to slam down hard enough on him. Tries to hit the right spot inside of her, grind her clit just right against his skin as she tries to set her pace. Her motions frantic and desperate, smearing and streaking slick across his skin and clothes, every desperate slam of her hips making her that much wetter, that much more accommodating, body frantic to welcome him into her over and over again. 

“Gods, your cunt doesn’t even want to let go of me, look so pretty with my cock inside of you,” he groans, her inside clenching at his choice of words, Gale’s cheeks flushed beneath the dark hair of his beard- his face screwed tight with his pleasure as his cock twitches inside of her squeezing walls. Petra in a frenzy as she fucks herself stupid, rides him as hard as she can, getting pushed closer and closer to the brink- pathetically close to her end, just a little more, a little more. 

His hands move further back,  curling around her ass, sinking his fingers into the plush flesh- her whimpering at the grope, the feeling of his warm digging into her- squeezing her so tightly. Harsh and firm, when hips roll into her, thrusting in as she sinks down- striking the very nerves she couldn't quite hit hard enough, a torrent of heat and need, stars dancing before her eyes without any magic. The force of his hips jolts her, her shaky arms giving out, her body collapse flush to his chest, nails digging into him as her face presses into his sweat slick skin. Pliant and boneless as Gale takes over the pace, gripping his ass tight between his hands and steadying her as he fucks her apart. 

And it’s pitiful how much better it is with him in control, Gale knowing her body and what she needs or perhaps just that much better at giving it to her. Harsh brutal snaps of his hips, every rut of him into her making her body thrum, her mind blanked with every strike at her deepest parts. Carving her out, splitting her open, burying himself into her over and over again- the wet squelch of him into her. Holding her vise tight to his chest, her sensitive tits scratched by his body hair a his motions rock and shift her against him. One hand leaving her ass to wrap around her middle, holding her tighter, clinging closer- his face buried to her temple as he fucks into her, uses her, splits her insides, and makes her body fit hims so perfectly. Not even able to hear or comprehend the whispers and praise whispered against her sweat tangled hair- gripping him tighter, Gale inside her and yet somehow nowhere near close enough. Not able to cling tight enough, not able to burrow far enough into his skin as she burns beneath the sharp bruising pace he drives into her. 

Then it all snaps, world shattering and cracking apart, crying out against his chest- mind empty with nothing but pleasure, clenching tight as he pulses inside of her. Squeezing around him, thrashing within his grasp, toes and fingers clenching- curling against him, around him, into him.

A few more harsh thrusts, rushed and hurried into her, followed by a rush of heat. The spill of cum into her insides, burning hot in her cunt, filling her- flooding her, warm in her fucked raw body. She pants and sighs against his skin, breaths rough as she comes back to earth and with no falling this time. He holds her like a promise, tight and reverent, kissing across her scalp and forehead as he rolls through the last of his ebbs of pleasure. Messy as he fills her with his cum, whining against his flesh, she feels it split out between the space where they connect. Filled to the brink with him, overflowed and spilling over with it, feeling it stick and cling to their thighs, their hips, where they meet. The languid slowly roll of him into her fucking his seed back into her, before his hips finally still as the last drop fills hers her, only to drip out again. 

They lay in the flickering torch light, skin wet with sweat and settling into each other’s flesh. His heart thunders and pounds beneath his skin, where her ear is pressed tight to him. Able to hear the desperate race and her own hammers in kind, in pace with each other, some relief that may be as ruined and ragged by her as she is by him. Only the sound of thundering hearts and them catching their breath, the faintest chirp of insects from the shadows. 

Slowly, steadily, the moments tick forward but time hardly feels like it’s touching them. Only the calming of their breaths and hearts marking the passage. His hands stroke and rub along her back, tracing her sweaty spine, both reach down to idly rub and stroke her lower back, pressing gentle reverence into her aching muscles. His lips burning adoration where they kiss her scalp, skim the scar of her forehead- she shifts to tuck her chin against his chest, looking up at his soft loving gaze. 

His hands push the hair off her forehead, cup her cheeks, thumbs stroking over the freckles that mark her face. A breath of a kiss against her forehead, her eyes closing beneath the touch. 

“Absolutely beautiful,” he praises, her eyes opening, her nose wrinkling as she blows a raspberry at him and his stupidly precious compliments- he laughs, “And a complete brat.” 

“Hmm, you love it.” 

“That I do,” he reponds to her teasing, another kiss and she meets his his lips. Sighing softly, knowing they can’t stay like this forever. 

Gently, she sits herself back up,Gale’s hands roaming down her sides- not missing the crease of disappointment in his brow when she’s no longer pressed flushed to his chest. She blinks, swallowing a gasp as she looks down at him. Rough raised scratches now mark his chest, thin red lines where her nails streaked his flesh and just managed to break it. Gently, her nails brush the marks. 

“Sorry, I’ll rub some salve and balsam ointment over it for you when we get back,” she promises, guilt creeping in- her nails are polished and due to her left, often have more dirt on them than she’d like- she could cause him an infection, “Maybe I should learn a healing cantrip or two…” 

“Thought you believed relying too much on healing magic was a crutch,” he asks, smiling up at her as he chimes the words she’s spoken so many a times when him or Shadowheart try to heal her when she only needs a bandage or a few dozen stitches. 

“I mean, for me, yes,” she murmurs, knowing it’s hypocritical- but it’s different when it’s him- he smiles, placing his hands over hers. She pulls her palms from his marked skin, bringing them to the press of his lips. 

“Worry not, dear- I hardly mind being marked by you,” he promises her, smiling against her knuckles and her nose wrinkles, his sweet words stirring her heart and only one response falls to her lips. 

“Blegh,” she spats, mock gagging at his corny existence, even if her cheeks are flushed and her heart thumping- he drops her hands, reaching out quick and giving a small sharp swat of his hand to her ass- “Ah, hey!” 

“Do not make gagging noises whilst I am inside of you,” he hisses, voice raised and incredulous- with just the softest edge of a laugh, his lips pulling back to a smile as she giggles. 

“Fine,” she reponds, rolling laguidly off of him- letting his cock slip out of her and plopping into the mud beside of him, giving a pointed look- “Blech!” 

“Darling-” 

“What I’ll no longer gag while you’re inside of me,” she promises, teasing him and his choice of words. His brown eyes rolls, a tut on his lips as he looks at her, before a different glint places. 

“Well, there can certainly be exceptions to the rule, should you wish,” he teases and after a beat, his meaning catches her- a way he’d be tucked inside of her that he’d accept her gagging, the idea of tasting him, and feeling him in her throat… 

“Is that something you’d wish?” She asks back, smiling a little- grin only widing when he clears his throat. 

“Another time, right now…” His voice trails and she watches him shift slight, a a little strained groan of pain his throat. 

“Your back killing you?” 

“Terribly so,” he admits, shaking his head and starting to sit up with a small grunt- his old achey muscles and joints always giving him issues. But it doesn’t stop him from pulling her over, tucking her into his lap as he sits; “Here, lets get you out out of the mud, dear.” 

She giggles, nuzzling into his neck as he make her plop her cum and dirt streaked ass in his lap. And as the afterglow fades and reality settles in her bones, she starts to realize some increasingly pressing concerns. The two are streaked in sweat, mud, and fluids. Her fingers brushing flecks of dirt off Gale’s shoulders, where his skin still met the dirt. His hair messy and tangled with little clumps of dirt, his skin warm and smelling of sweat and musk, Petra unable to help inhaling against his chest. 

Beneath them, his shirt is caked in mud, grinding into the dirt under their bodies. His only kind of on pants streaked with cum, clearly stained, dirt on back of it. Her own clothes are tossed in the dirt as well, having hit the dirt through the illusion. Mud on her back and some clinging to her ass, streaked where his fingers groped her- a mess of cum between her thighs. 

And they do have to go back to camp. 

“Uhm, do you have a spell to clean us and our clothes?” She asks, traces her nails over his neck. 

“Yes and no,” he explains, expression slightly tense, one hand on her hip, the other gesticulating with a pointed finger, “Prestidigitation can quite easily clean our clothes, with a bit of folding for mine perhaps, and is cantrip as well- fairly simple, only lasts an hour I”m afraid, but that would certainly be long enough to get back and safely tuck ourselves away in our tent.” 

“Mmhm..” 

“However, it is specific to objects and those of a certain footage, which- you and I do not qualify as. And between our fights of the day and my illusionary work, it’ll take a good nights rest before I can cast much more than a cantrip, so…” 

“So, our clothes will be clean, but we’ll be traipsing back with dirt on our skin and reeking of sex,” she double checks because there’s no river near the clearing- the camp using warmed basins of conjured magic for a while now. Which are back at camp. Where their companions are. 

“Or we could stay here for a night…” 

“And keep tally of the number of shadow cursed insects that inevitably crawl up our assholes.” 

“There are the bugs…” 

“I think we may have to face the music on this one,” she says, knowing sculking and sneaking back to camp is not a choice- not with Gale’s knees. 

“Alas, reality returns far too soon,” he muses, looking down at her where she’s still balanced within his arms and her cheek to his chest, “Still the night you wanted?” 

She giggles- they’re caked in mud, sweat, and cum. Sitting in the muck of a cursed lands, the threat of returning to camp to prying eyes and questioning voices. The only reason they can even safely sit here with monsters prying flesh from their limbs and darkness creeping into their souls is the blessing of a captured pixie. Demands of goddesses and moonstruck kingdoms ran by cults all on the horizon. But his arms are wrapped flush around her, the smell of his skin in her nose, the ache of where he was inside her. Skin marked in his love. 

“It’s perfect.”

[aurorasulphur]

A follow up to my “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat” poll:

Do you agree with the following statement: “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat means BOTH that the fic is darkfic AND that the narrative does not explicitly condemn the characters’ actions within the story”?

Options:

1. No, DDDNE is just a synonym for darkfic. It might condemn the stuff in-text.

2. No, DDDNE is just a warning that the stuff isn’t condemned in-text. It might not be darkfic.

3. DDDNE *implies* this, but it doesn’t always mean this. It’s like CNTW.

4. DDDNE *implies* this, but it doesn’t always mean this. You need other tags too.

5. Yes, and DDDNE doesn’t need any other tags to specify what flavor of darkfic.

6. Yes, it means that, BUT you can’t JUST tag DDDNE—you need other tags.

Definitions:

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, or DDDNE - a tag on fanfiction websites, the meaning of which is at issue in this poll. If you are not familiar with it in this context, please do not participate in this poll, and click “I am unfamiliar with this term” on my other poll.

Darkfic - fic dealing with intentionally disturbing material, such as physical and emotional violence. (Partial definition from Fanlore.) It is not a synonym for angst, heavy kink, or “any fic where someone dies”.

CNTW - an acronym for the AO3 tag “Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings.” This tag means that the fic might contain one of the following: underage, graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con. It also means the fic may not contain any of them. This tag means that the lack of a warning does not mean the thing isn’t there. The path is unmarked, so proceed with caution—here might be dragons, or nothing at all.

[im-queen-of-the-black-forest]

The Great Mustard Caper

Aurora: *entering the common room from the kitchen* Why is there a weird smelling yellow goop all over the walls? Actually do I even want to know?

Cumulus: *sitting on the couch with Aether curled up next to her with his head in her lap* It’s nothing too gross, just spicy mustard.

Aurora:….what?

Cumulus: Don’t worry about cleaning it up, I already sent Dew for soft pretzels. He and Mounty will take care of the worst of it and I’ll probably get what’s left later.

Aurora: That’s not even in my top 10 questions I’m thinking of now, the first one is Why?

Aether: *muffled against Cumulus’ thigh* Because we live in a bullshit society and every day we stray further from Satans light.

Cumulus: *stroking Aether’s hair* Aether thought the mustard was something else-

Aether: *sitting up* I HAD LEFTOVER BANANA PUDDING YESTERDAY AND I WAS LOOKING FORWARD TO HAVING IT FOR BREAKFAST BUT SOME MONSTER ATE IT AND FILLED THE CONTAINER WITH THAT SAUCE OF LIES *turns to Aurora* HAVE YOU EVER TAKEN A BIG BITE OF SOMETHING THINKING ITS GONNA BE A SWEET TREAT BUT IT WINDS UP BEING A TEPID VAT OF MUSTARDY BULLSHIT?! …*lays back down sniffling*

Aurora: who would be dumb enough to-* looks up to see Swiss sneaking into the room carrying a bag*

Swiss: *silently mouthing* not a word *carefully pulls a fresh container of pudding out of the bag* *audibly* Hey Aeth! Found this shoved into the back of the fridge when I was looking for the brita! Is it yours?

Aether: *looking up tearfully* w- how- aww man thanks buddy! *takes the container and toddles off to the kitchen*

Cumulus: ….you ate it didn’t you?

Swiss: oh yeah, 100%

Aurora: Ok but why Mustard?

Swiss: I was hoping Rain would try and steal it before Aether got to it. Then Aether got sad and I felt bad…also if he knew it was me he’d probably string me up to the belfry by my boots.

[pamsimmerstories]

at least he was free?

transcription

* clang*

Wolfgang: won’t you let me fucking go, old man?

Jacques: once you’re in, there’s no way out

Wolfgang: bullshit

Wolfgang: i can’t do this anymore, jacques. my girlfriend and my kids need me. and another baby is coming

Jacques: you should’ve thought better when you joined the criminal career

Wolfgang: i’m out, jacques. even if i have to kill you

Jacques: so instead of going to prison for drug distribution, you’re going for murder?! clever.

Wolfgnag: maybe i’ll do like you did, jacques. unlike you i’d do anything for aurora. anything. i’d burn the fucking world for her

Jacques: you don’t know anything about martina and i. just shut the fuck up

Wolfgang: i see i hit a never, yeah?

if i win this stupid sword fight like we did back then, will you set me free?

Jacques: fine. i’m old, but i always won from you and yuki

Wolfgang: your last words

Wolfgang: that was a fair fight, wasn’t it? now leave me the fuck alone

Jacques: how about a last chess match?

Jacques: so, when are you gonna grow some balls and ask your girlfriend to marry you?

Wolfgang: i had plans, but i got arrested and then she got pregnant....

Jacques: if you love her the way you seem to lover her, don’t waste time. you never know what might happen the next day

Wolfgang: is this about your wife? will you tell me what really happened?

Jacques: maybe one day... but not tonight.

[daisychainsandbowties]

Avalil + northern lights? There's no way Ava's ever actually seen them in person

thanks to @frozenabattoir for giving me the idea for this ily 💖💖🥰

Lava Kiss

…

Ava opens her eyes and she is kneeling on the shore of a crack that runs right into the earth. Above, dim, like the stabbing of stars through the atmosphere, she can see the faintest flush of colour. The sky bewitched by light.

She knows, she knows what it is. Aurora. (Bea with her voice like warm rain. cold water. like swimming in the pool and the chlorine sticking to her skin. Bea, with her voice)

(i miss you i miss you i-)

The lights, she remembers, are caused by solar wind, by disturbances in the magnetosphere (how Bea’s voice almost vanished around the word sphere, a breathy ‘f’ snuck inside the sound of it). Ava likes her voice. Every sound it makes.

She tries not to think of another voice, the other voice. Breaking in the dark.

The dapple of bloodred light through membrane. The leak of molten orange and her, catching it in a cupped palm before it could touch Ava.

The northern lights are charged particles exciting the atmosphere, and then light. Light.

But you can hardly see it now. Ava, trembling, kneels on the edge of a breakage in the world and remembers.

Lilith.

Walking with her, wings tucked so tight they gasped for air together in the wretched heat. Lilith with her arms around Ava and outside…

Fire. The smell of spitting hissing spitting burning flesh and the grit of Lilith’s teeth. Ava pleading with her in the dark. “Phase. Please Lilith, please just-”

“Can’t.” her teeth. Ava knows how they feel inside her. “I have to leave you behind if I go.”

“Then go.”

Silence.

She didn’t leave and now. And now.

The horizon is a wash of fire, smoke and gas churning thick around them, but the flicker-beat of the halo makes an oasis of light where Ava kneels.

Where Lilith sits, curled into a ball. She is more than half-alight.

Lilith twitches, gasps. Shakes her stupid, beautiful head, the burnt-out ends of hair curled Medusa-like around it.

Ava sees the edge of Lilith’s smile and breaks like a bone. She makes a noise she will not be able to recall later. She moves, she cries, she is always too late.

Roughness underneath her. Young stone, warm to the touch, raw as an unwrapped wound. It tears at her knees and her palms as she darts toward Lilith.

There’s a soft hiss, a sizzling that becomes Lilith’s voice. Why can’t it ever sound strange to her?

“Don’t.”

She has one burning hand raised. Palmprint of blood and blisters. They pop. Molten flesh touches Ava's collarbones.

It hurts.

The palm and Lilith behind it. Hurts.

She is recognizable. That's the worst part of it.

“I’ll heal,” Lilith wheezes.

“Bullshit.”

“Watch.”

A quick-spar of traded syllables. She always loses this fight.

Ava sits back, trying to escape the blur of recollection. Of fighting Lilith, of stabbing slicing clawing biting breaking her. Again and again.

And the strange girl next to her letting it happen. Putting her body in the way like that’s all she can do with it.

If not for her, Bea would be-

“I can hear you thinking. Stop it.”

Her snarl is back already.

Ava tries not to cry about it. On the way through the fire, Lilith called her crybaby five times.

Halo-light makes her an effigy as Ava sits, watches, waits. Tries not to think at all, in fact, of the halo in her chest, the iron now wrapped tight around her heart and tendril-hooked through her spine. Inescapable.

“So,” she says eventually. Ava is not good at silence and she is worse at watching Lilith try not to scream as new flesh splits the skin of her flash-burned back. “Hell is really-”

other people?

“You weren’t in hell.” Lilith sits, burning, pedantic, on the rock next to Ava. Her skin is a swirl of colour, stone shot through with rainbow lines. “I just chose this way back.”

“You chose the path made of lava!? Are you absolutely batsh-”

“It was the only way to keep you intact. To keep the halo with us. I-I had to shield it. I had to-”

She breaks off. Ava can’t tell if it’s pain or frustration or hatred or pain or please, let it stop.

Lilith notices her staring. Always does. Never comments.

This is how they dance around the issue.

“It'll come back clean,” she says, meeting Ava’s eyes - oh, there you are - as droplets of lava leak down the sweep of her wing, bundled up like an old umbrella.

She leans into the curve of it, so small against her wingspan. Legs bare, leaking blood down to her newly-returned toes. Skin splitting, popping, blistering, burning.

Ava doesn’t flinch. She’s shivering, body aching for the humidity of hell. For the dry dunes, their wavering shapes that seem to walk during the night when you collapse at their feet. Beatrice told her once that there are spiders in the desert who will chase your shadow.

“Not you, just your shadow.”

Lilith has her eyelashes, still. Somehow. They cast shadows on her face as her eyes flutter open. Her voice sounds fresh from an oven, low. Little gouts of steaming air escape past her lips, which are all broken up, strings of whatever the mouth is made of hanging down. Bloody ribbons sticking to her chin.

She's a wreck.

Ava loves her.

[geralts-yenn]

Believe in Me - Chapter 8

chapter warnings: 18+, adult content, minors DNI! violence, torture, talk of murder, vampire bite, minor character death

word count: 3,8k

A/N: Sorry guys. I know some of you might be mad at me while reading this. But it's not my fault. I suffered myself while writing, and I'm here for you when you want to scream at me after reading. But I can't change the story because that's just how it needs to be told.

Inspo board for this chapter is here

Series Masterlist

Charles switched off the monitor and turned to Aurora, who was now standing in the middle of the room, shaking.

“She’s a member of the Warriors of Light, did you know that? And Melot suspected your father to be a member, too.” he told her.

Aurora’s eyes widened even more. “What? No! I didn’t know. I mean, I think it could be true. They were always talking bullshit about vampires.”

While Maria pulled Aurora back onto the couch, August chimed in. “So it could be a trap? We can’t let her in.” Charles agreed to that, but Aurora shook her head.

“No, I don't think so. Tara is an awful sister and yes, she’s mean. But she’s not that bad. She wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose.” Charles, August, and even Maria looked skeptical at Aurora. 

August shared another glance with Charles, both unsure if they could trust Aurora’s judgment. 

“Are you sure?” August asked, giving her a piercing stare. “You know, I have seen a lot of people being surprised at how cruel their loved ones could be.” But Aurora didn’t back down.

“I’m sure. She wouldn’t harm anyone, especially not me. We never had a good relationship but she protected me from my father before. Our dad might have taught her to hate, but she wouldn't hurt me. Please let her in and listen to her. We have to help Melot.” The thought of her lover being in danger brought Aurora back to crying.

August and Charles exchanged some more words, but in the end August sent Will and Mike to check Tara and bring her in. After they were gone, Charles joined Maria in her efforts to calm Aurora, while August remained leaning against the wall, his jaw clenched. The silence was suffocating but none of them dared to speak, all of them dreading what Tara had to say.

When Will and Mike returned, guiding Tara to stand in the middle of the room, Aurora’s sobs fell silent. Like everyone else, she stared at her sister. And truth to be told, Tara looked like she was genuinely terrified. 

“You are supposed to bow before the king.” Will told her, but August waved him off. 

“We don’t have time for silly courtesies. Tell! Why are you here? What do you know about Melot?” August’s voice was not as calm as Aurora expected. Apparently, the disappearance of his nephew concerned him more than it seemed at first.

Tara was trembling as she stood between the other two vampires. Her eyes were wide and tears were running down her cheeks.

“You need to help him. They…” Her voice broke and she whimpered before she could go on.” They want to kill him. In front of the club.”

“Noooo” Aurora’s cry rang through the room. Maria tightened the embrace around her friend. Charles shot up from the couch in less than a blink of an eye and stopped only inches away from Tara’s shocked face. 

“Who are THEY? Where are THEY?” Charles was furious, his fangs bared and his eyes glowing bright. Tara was struggling to stand, her legs quivering. 

August rushed forward, too, pulled Charles back and pressed him down to sit. Then he turned back to Tara, this time slower so Tara could see him move. 

“Okay, we all need to calm down. Tara, please sit. You’re not helpful if you faint before you can tell us anything.” He pushed one of the stools from the breakfast bar over to her. And Tara actually thanked him when she sat down with a deep exhale. 

“Good, now please explain. From the start.” Aurora noticed that she felt a little more relaxed, now that August was talking, and apparently the others did so, too.  Even Tara had stopped shaking.

“It was a trap. Dad knew that you would send someone to the warehouse." Aurora's head shot up. "Dad? You're speaking of our Dad? So it's true?" Tara sighed and nodded. Aurora shut her eyes, shaking her head. "I should have known it was him who led you into all this."

"I'm sorry, Aurora! I didn't think he'd be that cruel. It started with a neighborhood watch. But then they all began to talk about actually hurting vampires. Well, and Dad was the loudest. I think it was him who tipped you, so that Melot would come to the warehouse. They were surprised when Melot came after sunrise, but they had silver chains, UV light emitters and silver knives soaked in garlic oil. Melot gave a good fight, we had a handful of injured men. But in the end they managed to lock him into the silver cage.”

Aurora started sobbing again, but Tara kept talking.

“Dad told me to guard him. I… I wasn’t nice. I mean, he had stolen my sister.” Tara looked at Aurora apologetically. “But then we talked. Melot begged me to set him free, he was talking about Aurora all the time. He didn’t even care that HE was captured. His only concern was Aurora. I saw just how much he loves her. That made me think. And then I got back to Dad and the others, and they talked about their plans.” She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes. “I had never thought that they actually wanted to hurt anyone.”

“What DID you think they were planing with knives and chains and a fucking cage?” Charles snarled at her, but August raised his hands to calm the other vampire. “Let her talk.” He gestured to Tara to go on.

“Yeah, I know how stupid I’ve been. I just… I wanted my dad to be proud of me. But not at that cost. Not by seriously harming someone.” Another desperate wail came from Tara. “Not by killing someone.”

She got up from the chair and slowly walked over to her sister. Charles stood, towering protectively over Aurora, but Aurora tugged at his arm. “It’s okay, Charles.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Charles sat back down, but his posture showed he was still on alert. If he sensed even a hint of danger to Aurora, he would tear Tara apart.

But Tara got on her knees in front of her sister, her whole body shaken by guilt and regret.

“I am so sorry, Aurora. For everything. I was such an awful person. I just wanted to be loved. I wanted dad to see me. But when I spoke with Melot, I realized that what dad could give me would never be anything close to love. I saw in Melot’s eyes what love looked like. And I realized that Melot is a better man than any human I have met in a while. I realized my mistake. I am so sorry.”

Tara broke down on the floor, crying helplessly. But to her surprise, Aurora dropped beside her and pulled her into her arms. 

“It’s okay, Tara. You’ve suffered the same way as I did. You’re a victim, too. And you recognized your mistake. I forgive you. But please, you need to help us to save Melot.”

The sound he let out as the knife cut deep into his cheek was more that of a wounded animal than that of a man. The garlic oil burned his flesh. His teeth gritted, he hissed at his attacker. The silver chains cut into the skin of his bare chest as he bucked forward. 

“August will kill you for this. You have no idea what is waiting for you.” Melot’s eyes were glowing bright red, filled with hate and anger. The UV light they had pointed at him slowly drained the last bits of energy that his lover’s blood had given him. His heart was racing in his chest. Somehow he needed to get out of here. He had hoped that Tara would help him, but he hadn’t seen her in what felt like days. Not like Melot had any sense of time anymore.

“Your king might rethink his actions once he finds your head in front of his den of iniquity.” Spit hit Melot’s face as the man spoke. “But before we get to this, I think we’ll send his majesty a little present from you.” 

Melot’s eyes widened as he saw how the man meticulously draped a handkerchief on the table beside him, added some strange hooks and last put a massive pair of pliers on top.

It took August only thirty minutes to gather his whole crew in the club. The most difficult part was to get the people out, but now the only ones left standing on the dance floor were the vampires that worked for him and the three human girls who were unlucky enough to somehow get caught up into that chaos. 

August and Charles were debating plans, Tara helping them with every bit of information she had about the warehouse and the people who called themselves Warriors of Light. Weapons were gathered, teams assigned, and when it was close to sunrise, the last step of preparation was up to Aurora. 

Her tears had run dry a long time ago, now there was only anger left. Anger and determination. They were going to save her lover. And she was the key to making it work. Aurora held out both her arms. She was still scared, she hadn’t forgotten the last time she had been bitten in this club. But August and Charles stood on either side of her, making sure that none of the vampires would freak out, once her blood hit their tongue. 

One after another, they knelt down at her side and took their portion of what would help them to save Melot’s life. More than a few times, August and Charles had to intervene to make sure that they didn’t take too much. But Aurora made it through it. She had offered her blood to every one of August’s men. Now it was time to go.

“What are they doing here?” The man guarding the entrance squinted his eyes at Maria and Aurora. Tara just shrugged. “This is my sister, you stupid idiot. You better let her in or my dad will make sure you remember the face of his daughter in the future.” The threat was enough that the man didn’t even dare to ask about the second woman anymore. He let them in. 

Tara took long strides through the dirty room where some of her dad’s men were working on something that looked like a huge wooden cross with chains attached to it. Aurora didn’t even dare to think about what they had planned to do with it. She followed her sister with her head sunken to her chest. Maria squeezed her hand and whispered under her breath: “Don’t worry, we’ll save him.”

Tara led them up some stairs and knocked on the door. The window in it was stained so much that you couldn’t see through anymore, but she saw a shadow moving inside the room and heard her dad shouting. “What is it?” Tara opened the door wide enough to let him see who was standing next to her.

“Aurora?” 

Tears glistened in Aurora’s eyes. Tears of anger. She wanted to storm over and hit him, kick him, do everything she could to hurt him. But it wouldn’t be nearly enough. He deserved to suffer so much more. 

She hid her feelings behind a false smile. “Dad, I’m sorry I ran away. I made a mistake. Please let me go home with you. I want to take care of you, Dad.” Aurora hated every syllable, but this was what she had to say to keep him distracted. 

And it worked. He let them in. “I thought you were the same as your mother. Running away as soon as some monster showed interest in your cunt.” The hatred was written clearly on his face when he went on.

“Oh, you should have seen her, how she glowed whenever he laid his strange eyes on her. How she smiled when she brushed her hand through his silver strands of hair. As if he were some fucking god. But he was a monster, a fucking bloodsucker and killer. And then she was pregnant. And he was gone.” Her dad chuckled spitefully.

“Who knows, maybe you’re my daughter after all, if you realize that we have to fight those monsters.”

Aurora’s heart was racing. So that was the source of all the hate and anger. She felt guilty. But then she remembered what this man had done to Melot, what he was planning to do to him. 

And then there was no more time left to ruminate on feelings. The windows shattered and in the next moment, two vampires jumped into the room and took Aurora’s father down. Shouts and screams came from all over the warehouse, glass shattering, sounds of people fighting. Some of her father’s men ran into the room and Aurora and Maria stumbled to the corner. Tara jumped to the other side, trying to fight one of the men. Chaos broke loose.

Mike came into Aurora’s sight. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll get you out of here.” He picked Aurora up with one arm, the other one wrapped around Maria and then Aurora felt like she was going to faint. The world moved way too fast and the next moment she found herself standing outside the warehouse. Mike gave her and Maria a concerned look “Are you hurt?” Both girls just shook their heads. “You wait here, I’m going back in and get Tara.”

August and Charles stormed into the room the girls had just been pulled from. Melot followed them, trying to match their speed, gathering his last remnants of energy. They quickly scanned the room to get an overview of what was happening. Will had one man in his grip, Marshall held two others, but two human guys had Tara, a weapon held against her head. Charles and Melot both noticed that there was no sight of Aurora and Maria and they didn’t know what to think of it. But there was no time to make plans. The man fidgeted in Will’s arm, a sly smirk on his face. 

“There he is, finally, the king.” He spat on the floor. “Well, it surely isn’t how I had planned to take you down, your majesty, but sometimes you have to adapt, right?” The man fiddled once more, his hands fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt. 

Charles was the first to realize what he had pulled out of his sleeve. But even for a vampire, sometimes things happen too fast, so Charles was a fraction of a second too late. 

“Dad, noooo!” Tara shouted, she had seen the trigger, too. But then the explosion hit them. 

Melot opened his eyes. A constant ringing penetrated his ears and he had difficulties determining his surroundings. Finally, his eyes focused and he saw how August and Charles got up, too. Will and Marshall brushed dust and debris from their chests. Melot scanned the room for more signs of people being alive. The man who had pushed the trigger was lying lifeless on the floor. The others seemed to be dead, too. 

Mike appeared in the room, looking shocked. “Melot, thank fuck, you’re alive. Aurora and Maria are waiting outside.” The wave of relief that rushed through Melot’s body was tremendous. He let out a deep sigh. But then he saw movement from under the rubble.  August, Charles and Melot all rushed to move the wreckage aside. Tara’s breath was short and panicked. Blood was running down her temple. Charles helped to get the junks of bricks off her body but what they found underneath destroyed their hope. There was not much they could do for Tara. 

“Melot, please!” Tara’s voice was weak, her mouth was filled with more blood. “Melot, can you help me?” He cupped her cheek carefully. 

“Tara, there’s just one way to save you.” He closed his eyes for a moment. It was hard, he wanted to save her so much. She was the one who had saved him. But he needed her to decide for herself. 

“We can turn you. But we can’t do anything for you if you want to stay human.”

Tears were falling from Tara’s eyes.  Melot saw that she had made up her mind. The determination on her face was a stab in his heart. 

“Tell her that I’m sorry. And take good care of her.” Tara closed her eyes.

A hand on his shoulder brought Melot back to reality. “Go find your girl.” August told him. “I will take care of her.”

Maria pressed her elbow into Aurora’s side. Aurora forced her eyes to open, but the moment she realized who was walking towards her, she had found energy she didn’t know she still had in her. Aurora jumped to her feet and ran into his arms. Melot let out a small huff.

“Careful, my love! I fear I’m a little sore.” Aurora took him in from head to toe. Her eyes widened as she saw the wounds the knife had left on his face, the burn marks of the silver chains on his chest, wrists and ankles and the dried blood in the corners of his mouth. 

“What have they done to you?” New tears were falling from her eyes. They had hurt him so badly and it was all her fault. 

A sad smile formed on his face. ”Nothing that won’t heal, my love. Don’t worry about me. But there’s something else I need to tell you…”

Melot sat down on the grass and pulled Aurora into his lap. He held her as tight as possible as he told her about the death of her stepfather and her sister. When he repeated what Tara had said to him, Aurora was shaking in his arms. 

“I’m so sorry, my love. I wish I could have saved her.” 

Aurora had never seen the mansion filled with so many people and yet, it had never been as quiet as it was now. Some of August's men were standing in the kitchen, treating their wounds in silence. Charles had Maria on his lap and they were quietly whispering to each other, Charles’ hand drawing circles on Maria’s back to soothe her. August was standing by the window, staring into the distance. The sun was setting, illuminating his face with orange light. 

And Melot was sitting behind her, resting against the couch. He was weak, barely able to keep his eyes open, but he refused to lay down. He never wanted to let Aurora out of his embrace again. 

August turned, asking his men to leave them alone. Maria and Aurora both got up, too, but August stopped them.

“No, please, stay. It looks like these two need your presence now.” A surprisingly soft smile formed on August’s face as he looked at Charles and Melot. “And what I have to say affects you, too, Aurora.” The women sat back down again, Melot pulling Aurora close and pressing a soft kiss on the back of her neck.

“I need to apologize.” August began. “I should have listened to you sooner. I underestimated once more how cruel humans are. You would think I should have learned it by now.” He let out a sad chuckle. “You all have given your best today, and I’m grateful to have you on my side. Especially you, Melot. You have been as brave and strong as I always knew you were. I am proud of you.” 

Melot straightened his shoulders, surprised by the words of his uncle.

“Charles, you had the guts to call me out when it was needed. Thank you for this. It takes courage to speak the truth. Especially if that means you have to contradict me.” August let out another small laugh. 

“Aurora, we still need to be careful with you. What happened today will make its rounds and there will be questions how we managed to operate in bright daylight. I fear I still need to keep you under my protection. I am so sorry that I have to do this to you. Especially now that you’re grieving. To make it easier for you, and also as a sign of my trust to you, Melot, I give the task of protecting Aurora to you.” He smiled as he saw Melot’s eyes widening in surprise. “I am sure you will take good care of her. Now please, feed! You need to get back to strength.”

Melot wasn’t sure if he understood correctly. “Your majesty, thank you for your kind words. And thank you for your trust. I will not disappoint you. But, I’m sorry, did you mean I am allowed to feed on Aurora?”

August smiled and instead of an answer he walked over to Melot and patted his head. “Charles, keep an eye on him!” Then he turned to go.

Melot and Charles looked at each other in disbelief. But Aurora cupped Melot’s cheek and guided him to lean back again. “He's right, Melot. You need to feed. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips before she offered her neck to him. 

Melot traced the line of her neck with his finger. He pulled her even closer into his lap. When he spoke, his lips brushed over the skin of her throat. “My fangs are still a little sore from that idiot's attempt to pull them out. I hope I won’t hurt you too much.”

He pressed wet kisses at her pulse point before he finally sank his teeth into her throat. And it didn’t hurt at all. As Melot sucked on her neck, Aurora felt the best she had been in days. He was with her, he was alive, and he still wanted to be with her. She felt his heart beating in sync with her own. It was going to be okay. 

Melot fell asleep almost immediately after he was done feeding. Aurora decided that she’d stay with him on the couch. Charles and Maria got up to leave them to themselves. 

“I’ll bring you some blankets. Do you need anything else?” Charlie offered, but Aurora didn’t need anything else in the world as the man in her arms. As Charlie left, Maria kissed Aurora on the top of her head.

“Long day, hm? Get some rest. You know I will always be there for you.” There were noises in the kitchen and Maria looked up smiling, expecting Charlie to be back, but then she screamed. There was a stranger standing in the middle of the room, his face hidden under a dark hood. 

“I need to speak with Augustus.”

_____________

Part 9

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

𝐍𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 Swiss makes Aurora squirt. That's it, that's the fic. 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬) Swiss Ghoul x Aurora Ghoulette 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 Smut (18+ only, MINORS DNI), fingering, overstimulation, squirting, pet names, tickling briefly at the end. 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 744 words. 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 Back on my bullshit, giggling and kicking my feet whenever I see clips of Aurora on tiktok. Been a while since I last wrote Swiss so I'm feeling a little out of my element but we'll pretend that I'm not feeling that way. Very briefly proofread. 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 𝐓𝐢𝐩 𝐉𝐚𝐫

Time has melted away and Aurora doesn’t know how long they’ve been at it at this point. The passage of time slipped away from her when her fourth orgasm tore through her, body trembling and twitching as she tugged Swiss’ hair so hard that a few strands were pulled from his scalp. He doesn’t care though. It doesn’t stop his fingers crooking and brushing against her g-spot, nor does it slow down their precise thrusts that fill the air with the sounds of soaking wet arousal. His tongue continues to roll against her clit, moving in circular motions and side to side as he drags her closer and closer to the edge once more.

How many times has he made her cum now? Six? Seven? She’s not sure. What would keeping count do? Swiss has probably been doing it for her. He always does. He likes to keep a tally of how many times he can bring her to completion before she finally breaks and crumbles apart, ready for him to put back together again afterwards with soothing words, gentle touches, and a hot bath. Right now, however, after is far from Aurora’s mind as she painfully crawls towards her next orgasm.

“Can’t…” she whimpers, pawing at the top of Swiss’ head as her overstimulated body screams for mercy.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” the multi ghoul coos. “Just one more. You’ve got one more in you, I know it.”

The ghoulette shakes her head, back arching off the bed when his fingers bully her sweet spot once more. “Please…”

“Just one more and I promise we can stop, okay?” He seals his lips over her bundle of nerves and sucks hard.

The overwhelming pleasure builds and builds, tightening the coil in her abdomen as she sobs and wriggles against his face. She goes from pushing at him to pulling him into her then back to pushing again. Her aching thighs, blotted with bites and bruises, close in around his head as her torso lifts off the bed in an arch when his fingers pump in and out faster and harder. It’s a punishing pace, brutally bumping against her g-spot repeatedly as Swiss shakes his head and his groans vibrate against her. It sends shockwaves of sensation jolting through her body and her screams of his name over and over are almost loud enough to cover the splashing sounds of Swiss’ fingers still pistoning in and out of her pussy as she soaks his face and hand. Shockwaves ripple through her body, her vision turning white, as her climax seems to stretch for an eternity.

When her orgasm finally subsides and her body ceases jolting and jerking, the ghoulette finally glancing down at a smirking Swiss as he licks his fingers clean, lapping up her spend with a moan. He sucks each digit into his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as he meticulously cleans each one.

“Fuck, I love how you taste, princess. So sweet.” Amber eyes meet hers once more. “My favourite drink.”

Aurora whines when Swiss leans down once more, lips hovering over her drenched, oversensitive sex. Just when she thinks he’s about to devour her again, he chuckles. His breath tickles her exposed skin before he presses a kiss just below her belly button.

“You did so well for me. I knew you could give me another one,” he purrs, smiling up at her with pride and adoration.

The ghoulette forces herself into an upright position, wincing at the soreness in her lower back. Her fingers card through his curls as he trails kisses from her abdomen up to her collarbone where he nips playfully. She can’t help but giggle when he shifts so that he’s kneeling on the mattress and pecks her forehead.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls so that their chests are flush. “Love you, Swissy.”

Swiss squeezes her gently and nuzzles the spot just behind her ear. “Love you too, princess. You ready for your bath now, or would you prefer a shower?”

Aurora mewls and squeezes her thighs closed, eliciting a laugh from the multi ghoul.

“Don’t worry, I won’t fuck you again tonight. Your body needs time to recover after feeding me all that nectar, hm?”

“Satanas, you know how to ruin the moment don’t you?”

His fingers dig into her sides, tickling her as peals of laughter escape from her lips and she falls onto her back on the mattress.