#✿ / ask ― a lingering question brimming with wonder.

[champagnefountains]

LUCIFER MAGNE - H.H.

Prompt: Lucifer continuing to wear his wedding ring despite being in a relationship with you.

Genre: Angst and hurt; somewhat fluffy (but only for a brief while). Warnings: Swearing. Unhealthy relationship/coping mechanisms (?). Word count: 2.2k+

Lucifer had been courting you for a couple of months already, the King of Hell finally deciding it was time to make the two of you official. The tension was so incredibly thick, that even the hotel’s patrons were growing sick of having to watch the two of you dance aimlessly around each other. Charlie included. 

The past couple of months were more than delightful – Lucifer treated you like a Queen, taking you out almost every other night, having nice candle-lit dinners, and dancing the night away. And if you weren’t really feeling the glamour, the both of you would stay cuddled up against one another whilst watching some cliche rom-com. It was like a dream. It was perfect…well, almost. 

The very source of your concerns was the golden band that remained in Lucifer’s ring-finger. 

You knew about the heart-break and torment that Lucifer underwent following his separation with Lilith. Understandably, having been together for many decades and centuries, the King had a difficult time trying to move on. Even in the earlier stages of your relationship, when he had been comfortable confiding in you, it was evident that he still deeply cared for Lilith, despite her absence. 

You tried to be understanding – you really, really did. But every time you held his hand, the cold metal feeling against your fingers set a painful reminder that maybe he still hasn’t moved on completely. 

It filled you to the brim with self-doubt. Perhaps he was just keeping you around just to fill in the void she had left. And if that were the case, were you even doing a good enough job in that? Hypothetically, if Lilith were to waltz in front of the hotel’s doors one day, was he going to throw you off to the side and run away with her? What if he’d grow bored of you all of a sudden?

Questions such as these would linger at the back of your head constantly, and as they did, you would cast a longing gaze in his direction. When he catches your eye, he would automatically send a smile your way, pearly-whites in full display. It would make you smile without fail, because how could it not? You loved that dashing smile of his. But everyday, you wondered if you could continue to maintain that smile in your life. 

One night in particular, during dinner at one of Hell’s finest establishments, Lucifer noticed that something was off. Your smile hasn’t been reaching your eyes, and you seemed like you were anywhere but here. Your eyes had a distant look to them and whenever he’d ask if something was wrong, you would become dismissive. It concerned him a lot. 

“Darling, are you alright?” Lucifer carefully asked once you both made it to the front porch of the hotel. “Was it the food? Was it not to your liking? Because the chicken was a bit off to be honest, it could’ve been a bit more seasoned–” 

“Luci,” you intervened and grabbed his hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “The food was great, really. It’s just…” As your voice trailed off, you were quick to feel that damn ring around his finger. Because, of course you did, and it didn’t help your mood at all. You force out a huff and pull away, causing the demon’s frown to deepen, “I’m feeling a little under the weather tonight – probably just lacking a bit of sleep.” 

Lucifer scanned your face all over, his brows furrowed in worry. “Well…I guess you have been working harder for the hotel recently.” There had been some truth in that – after all, there had been an influx of sinners in the hotel since the cancellation of this year’s extermination. But he didn’t seem to stop there, not fully convinced by your reasoning, “...But are you sure that’s all, my dear?” 

You looked at him, surprised, as if suddenly caught red-handed. He was quick to pick up on that too, confirming his suspicions and making him all the more nervous.

 “What are you trying to say?” You ask. 

“Well, i-it’s just that I noticed that you’ve been acting a bit off recently,” he splutters. “And not only tonight. You’ve become a bit more…I don’t know, distant with me. And it worries me, y’know? I just…I really, really care about you. A lot.” He almost looks defeated as he rubs anxiously at his nape, “And if I’m being honest, it scares the absolute shit out of me that what I’m doing now isn't right."

Your brows crease in confusion, “...What are you talking about?” 

Lucifer closed his eyes, dragging a palm against his face as an exaggerated groan leaves his lips. “Look, I’m not exactly experienced with all…all this – the one woman I’ve ever been in a committed relationship with left me. Just like that!” He lets out a humourless snort. “A-And I don’t know what I did to make her leave and I for sure don’t want to make that same mistake again. I…I want to be assured that I’m making you happy.” 

Lucifer looks up at you, eyes filled with warmth, as he places a gentle hand against your cheek. He breaks the distance between you to press his forehead against yours. You automatically lean against him out of habit. “I don’t want to lose you. And if I’m doing something wrong, tell me. Please, don’t shut me out.” He pleads, his voice almost falling into a whisper. The unexpected confession left you speechless, your chest feeling all the more tight. It was making you feel worse than you already did. 

You let out a shaky sigh, trying to keep the pending tears at bay. “Luci, I’m sorry. I didn’t know…I-I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. Trust me when I say that you’ve been nothing more than a gentleman, and every moment we’ve spent together has been magical. I appreciate you so, so much, and I could never, ever ask for anything more.” 

You shut your eyes tight, shame filling your very core. “I’m just being a little silly–”

“No, no. Don’t say that, darling. Please tell me what’s going on. It’s okay,” Lucifer encourages softly, his thumb rubbing reassuringly against your cheek. 

You grab his wrist and gently pull your face away from him. With the hand on his arm, you slide it down to grab at his own, bringing it up into view and in-between the both of you. Almost instantaneously, both your eyes lie on the golden band on his finger – to Lucifer, it suddenly clicks. But he couldn’t help but feel an internal conflict brew within him. 

“I-I know how much that ring and Lilith means to you. I really do and I feel awful having to feel this way, but I just…I can’t help it,” you mutter, finally allowing the first couple of tears to fall, “I-I often find myself counting the days and hours when you’ll suddenly realise that I will never be good enough for you. It feels like I’m constantly having to compete with her–heck, what am I even saying? I know I’ll never be able to compete – because, I mean, come on. I'm a nobody!” You chuckle tearfully whilst gesturing to yourself with a free hand.

“And I don’t think I’ll ever understand how you’d ever settle for someone like me. I’m not nearly as important, nor am I the best-looking demon out there. I’m just me.”

“But Lucifer, whenever I’m with you, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I smile more. Laugh more. I even enjoy the little things more. And I don’t want that to go away. And I’m just hoping– Satan, I’m fucking hoping that it’s the same for you. And if it is, then how long is that going to last with me?” 

Completely shocked, Lucifer watched in silence as his love sobbed their heart out in front of him. He wanted nothing more than to go and wrap you in his warm embrace, and whisper reassurances and hush down your cries. Because, you were right – you did make him happy. So unbelievably happy. You had been the light that casted away the shadows in his darkest times. And yet, why? Why did he remain where he stood, unmoving as tears pathetically poured from his eyes? Why wasn’t he saying anything?

There was a brief, stagnant moment of contemplation where the both of you just stood there. It was the realisation that Lucifer didn’t make any effort to formulate some form of response, that disappointed you even further. It only made the doubtful voice in your head louder. 

It was you who ultimately decided to make the first move, wiping tiredly at your reddened face as you glanced at the hotel’s door. “I’ll be heading off first. I’ll be in the guest room tonight – it’s been a long day,” you raspily say, hiccuping as you pushed through the doors and disappeared into the hotel, leaving Lucifer alone outside. 

As you entered the hotel, you immediately noticed Husk’s presence by the bar, who had been polishing some glasses by the counter. In front of him was Angel, who was making some sweet, small talk with him. They were both alerted by your entrance as the doors flew open, and as Angel was about to greet you in his usual playful fashion, his voice fell flat when he saw the depressed state you were in. 

“Woah, there. What the hell happened to you? You look like shit,” Angel asked, standing to meet you half-way, “I thought you and Short-King were out on a date. Did something happen?” 

“We were but we had a fight or something,” you tiredly shrugged as you walked past the arachnid and plopped yourself down on one of the bar stools. You swirled yourself on the seat to face Husk. “Give me the strongest shit you have. And make it double,” you waved absently at the feline-demon, who raised an incredulous brow at your bluntness. “Damn, it must be that serious considering you don’t even drink,” he grumbles as he turns to start brewing a glass of something, “...do you wanna talk about it?"

You contemplated his offer for a second and realised that you did. For the next five or so minutes, you ended up recounting everything that happened earlier tonight, all the while shedding even more tears. Angel was kind enough to supply you with a mountain of tissues to cry into.

“Well, it sounds to me that your man’s got a whole lot of thinking to do,” Husk clicks his tongue. “But what you’re feeling is completely valid.” “Yeah, who the fuck wears their ol’ wedding ring while dating someone else? What an asshole,” Angel hisses. 

“S-So you guys think there’s a possibility that he might consider ending things with me?” You question dejectedly. Husk and Angel share a look of uncertainty, suddenly feeling the need to be careful of their words. Because they genuinely weren’t sure.

“I–Look, that’s not something we should be focusing on at the moment– I mean, of course, let’s hope that that’s not where this is going. I just think he needs some space to think things through properly,” Husk says. 

“And I know I was talking a whole lot of shit before but let’s take the benefit of the doubt and look at things from his point of view. He was in that boat for more than a couple thousand years. And shit, that’s a lot of fucking years.” Angel points out. “It might take him a while longer to adjust to that, y’know?” Angel places a hand on your shoulder, grinning at you reassuringly, “But there’s one thing for sure that myself and everyone else knows: the guy loves yah, toots. Anyone with eyes can see it, and you guys are really fucking disgusting about it too–ow!” 

Angel suddenly lunges forward against the counter as one of Husk’s wings swipes down to slap the back of his head. “‘The fuck was that for?! It’s true, ain’t it?!” Husk rolled his eyes at his dramatics, before turning back to you. “He’s right, though. Just…just give him a bit more time. I’m sure in the end, the both of you will be fine.” 

Meanwhile, Lucifer decided to head back to his own castle, wanting to be alone to sort through his cluttered thoughts. He was beyond upset with himself for making you cry like that, because it was the last thing he wanted. But he was more upset at the fact that he didn’t know how to navigate through his emotions, despising that he found himself second guessing his feelings. 

As you explicitly implied, was he really still unconsciously longing for Lilith? Was that why he kept wearing his ring? Why was he still wearing it? Was it just for his own comfort? But why would he need it anyways? You were there, weren’t you? All he had said to you tonight, he was contradicting himself, wasn’t he? Perhaps he’s scared. Maybe he isn’t ready yet. But, why would he be with you if he didn’t think so? What exactly were you to him? And what exactly was Lilith to him now?

Lucifer was a complete mess, and that night he couldn’t find a single blink of sleep as these thoughts plagued him. And neither could you, as you scrutinised every aspect of your relationship, thinking of what this could mean for the both of you, moving forward.

Yeah…perhaps you both needed some time. 

Chapter II [x]

[eupheme]

k07. group sex | don’t make me choose

logan howlett x reader x wade wilson x vanessa carlysle

rated e - 3k

tags: fem!reader, pure pwp, vignettes, poly relationship, mutual crushes, drinking games, foursome, oral sex, face sitting, fingering, hair tugging (reader), PiV, shared blowjob, creampie, come eating, 69 (while getting fucked), light ass play, spitting, marathon piv session

a/n: @sir-thisisadndserver sent me a lovely request about writing a logan x reader x wade x vanessa fic, which I thought would be perfect to share for kinktober! 💕 thank you so much emma & I really hope you like it!

“Gun to your head,” Wade’s hand raises - two fingers making a barrel, his curled thumb the hammer, “If your life hung in the balance of an orgasm, which one of us would you pick to help you out?”

(or - when a midnight game takes a turn, Vanessa, Wade, and Logan all work together to help you decide.)

There has to be something about the way they always convince you to stay later.

Offering another drink. A hand on your arm, a sweet smile. A “don’t worry, Logan will walk you home” - and he always does, hands jammed in the pockets of his leather as he lingers just a moment more, as your heart flutters behind your ribs. Making sure you get inside, safe and sound.

Lately, it’s become a “it’s getting pretty late, why don’t you just sleep over?”

The apartment is already small, crammed to the brim as is. It would be easier to book a ride home.

But for the second time in two weeks, your legs tuck beneath you. Wade’s friends - yours too, really, you’ve been hanging around enough that you think you could call them that - heading out an hour ago.

Your nice clothes for the get-together exchanged for an oversized shirt of Logan’s. Someone’s boxers slipped on as shorts - Wade’s, you think, from the bright pattern of red hearts across the pink fabric.

Hushed conversations in the living room, reminiscent of sleepovers in your youth, except for how filthy the conversations are.

And just like then, you can never bear leaving early.

Clinging on to each word, each accidental touch as a bowl of popcorn is passed over. The lean of Vanessa’s back against your legs when another movie starts.

Your shoulder and hip mapped with Logan’s, when you all try to fit on the couch.

Don’t even mind the way you always ache the next day. Far too fucking old to sleep on the makeshift bed Wade throws together - cushions dragged down from the couch, an excess of his decorative throw pillows littered across the floor.

Bargaining for Althea’s quilt collection in exchange for her sole use of the narrow twin bed that night.

It’s worth it, those few stolen minutes when you wake up before them. Shuffled together in some combination that changes each time.

A mess of limbs, and each time it sends your heart jolting. Something impossible that you can’t help but wish for planted in your chest when an arm manages to sling across your waist.

Trying to ignore how natural it feels, because clearly it must just be you. Reading into things, as always.

The game you’re playing - something Wade whipped up called Risky Quizness - breaks you out of your reverie, as he hurls another question at Logan.

“If you had to choose between having the Hulk’s dick but a normal-sized body, or the Hulk’s body and a regular-old johnson, which would you choose?”

Your snort of bemusement matches Logan’s, his brow furrowing with a scowl, “Can’t you ever ask a normal fucking question?”

“It is a normal fucking question,” Wade smirks, “You’re already working with one of those combos, minus the green, and I just wanna hear you admit it.”

The implication has your cheeks heating. Wondering how Wade would know. Knowing he must, by the way Logan’s ears pinken and eyes pull away.

“Pass.” It’s growled out, as Logan takes another swig of the beer he’d been nursing.

Wade pivots on the spot, set between the three of you. Facing you now, and your breath hitches in anticipation.

You’ve already spilled your most embarrassing moments. Your childhood crushes. A disaster of a first kiss. The true depths and deep cuts of your “hear me out” list. Even your first time - all stories spread out over the nights together.

And yet somehow, you’re still nervous he’ll nudge at your deepest secret of all.

His eyes narrow as he thinks.

“Gun to your head,” Wade’s hand raises - two fingers making a barrel, his curled thumb the hammer, “If your life hung in the balance of an orgasm, which one of us would you pick to help you out?”

Oh.

Fuck.

“Wade.” Vanessa hisses, shooting him a look.

“Her future is at stake, Ness,” Wade counters, severely, “Besides, I’m trying to help my boy out-”

But it’s Logan that addresses you first, his gaze heavy as his head cocks.

“Awfully quiet over there, sweetheart.”

A slight buzz still lingers - your mind and swirl, and the solid wall of your filter poked through with holes.

“I, uhm,” You start, as three sets of eyes fix on you.

Going silent, with the sudden attention.

“Huh. Thought I had you pegged,” Wade hums, eyes narrowing, “Can’t pretend I’m not offended for him that you’d rather take the L than fuck Wolvie here-”

You head shakes - not wanting them to think that, “It’s not-”

“What is it, then?” His grin widens, “Don’t have to be shy, babe. We all like pussy here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Another reproachful look, though Vanessa’s eyes don’t stray long from yours.

“No, it’s really-” You sigh, feeling helpless. Knowing he’ll keep nudging until you give him what he wants, “I, uh, I just… can’t pick.”

Silence lingers, and the heat in your chest creeps up to your ears.

“Can’t choose.” You laugh, self-conscious, “Doesn’t seem fair to, with, you know-”

“With?” Logan prompts - his voice low. That rough edge, as your eyes flick towards him.

“With how I feel.” You finish, lamely.

You’d thought your attraction to Logan as you’ve gotten to know him would advert the crush you’d been harboring on Wade and Vanessa.

But… it hasn’t. If anything, the shared time as your friendship grew only added to those feelings, leaving you hopelessly pining for all of them.

Forced to finally admit it.

“Greedy girl.” Wade coos - delighted - the puzzle pieces slipping into place.

Vanessa is the one that moves first.

Her weight shifting, as you inhale a breath. Moving from against the couch to kneel in front of you, movements slow as her hands plant on either side of your thighs.

“Maybe we can help you choose?” She smiles, eyes dropping to your lips. A quick glance towards Wade, as she adds, “Ladies first.”

And as her mouth presses sweetly to yours - think you may have just died and gone to heaven.

Scratch that. This is heaven.

Her thighs inch wider, calves already pressing into your bare shoulders. Your borrowed shirt lost somewhere, between the tug of her fingers and the twine of tongues.

The layers she wore soon following, your begged request murmured against her lips as you settled back against the floor, urging her on top. A shrill whistle that cut short with a grunt, when Logan’s elbow sinks into Wade’s gut.

Dark eyes peer down, but you miss them - too busy mapping over each and every inch of Vanessa, as she hovers above your mouth.

“You sure?”

Wade chuckles, answering for you, “Believe us, babe. When we say ‘sit’, we mean sit-”

Her teeth sink into her lip, “She’s not strong like you are, honey-”

Strong enough. It flickers through your mind, as your hands curve against her hips and tug. Lips parted, mouth ready to meet her.

You moan, as she pitches forward - hands splaying on either side of your head. As your tongue presses against her pussy, soft and wet and the low gasp she makes has you clenching.

“Supposed to be making you come,” Vanessa breathes, as she rocks into your mouth. As you taste her, tangy-sweet.

You suppose she’s right, but you’ve been dreaming about this for months. Hands flatten against her thighs, a silent plea for her to stay. Still marveling over the fact that the making out with you made her like this.

Leaking agains your tongue. The short panting breath, hands that cup at her breasts. The soft moan as her head dips to kiss Wade, as he fists his pulled-free cock.

“Come on, baby girl.” He grins, “Get over here. Can’t Choose means you, too.”

There’s a huff, near your ankles. Something growled out you miss, with the way her thighs press against your ears.

“Can Logan touch you, honey?” Vanessa decides for him - her fingers brushing your cheek, “He’s going to go wild if he can’t get his hands on you.”

You hum in assent, a distracted nod of your head. Too focused on her, listening to what makes her squeal. Wishing you could use your fingers, though there’s nothing that would make you want to move now.

Hands palm at your legs. Muffled words melding, as the pink boxers are tugged from you. Thighs pushed wide, as a warm weight settle between them.

The wet drag of a tongue had your hips jerking into his mouth. A little laugh from Vanessa, as she shifts - grinding against your tongue.

“Feels good, doesn’t he?” She coos, “Almost as good as you.”

Logan grunts. Hungry - fingers nudging at your slick entrance. One finger sinking inside, and then another. Starting a slow rhythm that you find yourself matching, with the drag of your tongue and the rock of your hips.

You wish you could stay just like this forever. This loop of pleasure that sparks from your mouth to your core, giving and receiving. This is the way it should be, you think.

Trapped between them. The only way it would be better was if Logan was inside you.

Sharing you with Wade. Both of them splitting you open as Vanessa keeps your mouth blissfully busy.

The thought had pleasure hitching inside you. Your eyes long squeezed shut, as you concentrate. Trying to keep your pace steady, your lips sealed against her clit. Fingers tracing along her thigh until you can rub against the tight bud, your tongue slipping down to press inside.

She keens, and that pressure inside your surges - crashing over you.

Too much, with the pound of his fingers. Working you open, getting you ready for later. His tongue flicking against your clit - you’re already such a mess that it’s almost cheating with how quickly you’re yanked to the edge.

The suction of his lips pulling you over. Your moan muffled as your nose nuzzles against her mound. Groaning into her pussy as Vanessa’s fingers twist into your hair, tugging.

And when her hips arch, clit pulsing against your tongue a moment later -

It’s bliss.

The aftershocks still wrack through you, when Vanessa lifts off your face. Swooping down to kiss you soundly, your head lifting to chase when she pulls away.

“One.” Logan hums with satisfaction - another slow lick against your core.

“Team effort,” She amends, curling next to you with a smile, “You boys gonna give it a shot?”

Wade grins, as Logan pushes himself up - his cock tented against his sweat. Moving up to kiss you next, and you wonder if he can taste Vanessa on your lips, the way you can taste yourself on his.

His tongue sweet as it swipes against yours - something you’ve dreamed of - wished for - often.

It sends another wash of need over you, as his hands guide you to flip over.

“You Grandpa Joe’d that one, babe,” Wade shakes his head, “Just sat there while our girl and Lo did all the work.”

Her eyes roll, before they flick to yours, “Is that right?”

Your head shakes, pussy-drunk. A soft moan as Logan’s cock swipes against your folds, his hand biting into your hip.

“Wanted to,” You repeat, the words stringing out, pitching high, as he inches into you, “Wanted, fuck, Logan-”

“Want another one, baby.” He hums, sinking slowly into you, “Need to feel you around my cock this time.”

Seating himself in you, as Vanessa’s teeth nip at your neck. As Wade settles in front of you, boxers kicked off - baring mottled skin and the heavy hang of his length.

“Old man’s not gonna last long,” He mock-sighs, “Has been edging that hard-on for you for months now.”

The admission sends heat coursing through you. Recalling all the looks over the late-night hours. Reading into each and every interaction, combing for clues he enjoyed your company as much as you did his.

Who knew all you had to do was ask?

“Keep that mouth shut,” Logan growls, “Or I’ll find a way to keep it busy.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time-” He chokes on the last word, as Vanessa’s hand wraps around him.

“Hush. Not like we haven’t wanted this as well,” She chides, before sending a wink your way. “Let me show you what he likes.”

Letting you watch, as her tongue slips up his shaft.

Letting you join, a moment later.

Spit-slick kisses against the leaking head. Colorful curses strung together as Logan’s thrust sends him nudging against the back of your throat.

It makes your brain spin, thoughts going hazy. Easing off him, so you can mouth at his shaft, tongue dragging against the curve of his sack.

Messy, with the spit that smears against your lips. Hers and yours, melding when Vanessa brings your mouths together, the head of his cock trapped between the two of you.

All but drooling on him, as Logan’s hips snap. Fingers biting into your skin, until a hand slips around your hip.

Skating across slick skin, nudging the tips against your clit.

“Still so fucking wet for us.” It’s growled out, pleased.

His thrusts turning harder, when he feels how you clench around him. Already attuned to the way your body tightens when you’re close - and with the way he’s man-handling you, that heated pleasure is already curling again inside you.

Fucking you, toying with your clit until you’re moaning around Wade’s cock. Fingers denting his thigh as you cling to him, pulling back until your face can bury against his hip.

“Give us a second one, sweetheart.” Logan growls, “Know you fucking need it, can feel you squeezing me.”

You whimper. Too many hands on you - slender fingers against your tits, cupping soft skin. Scarred hands tracing along your jaw, fingers pressing against your tongue.

Teeth biting down - muffled moans as you obey. Coming harder that before with the way you’re stuffed full of cock, your head still hazy from the last round.

The clutch of your cunt pulls him over soon after. A rough snarl, as his hips nudge flush. Cock throbbing, as he fills you with pulse after pulse, painting your walls with his release.

You pant, a palm flattened against Wade’s abs, to steady yourself. The heady thrum lingering, close to painful with how quickly he had made you come again.

A low hiss, when Logan eases himself out. His hand smoothing over your hip, squeezing at your ass.

You can feel him drip from you. Smearing across your inner thigh, as he presses a kiss against to your shoulder.

“Dibs!” Wade grins.

It only takes a moment before he has you flipped over. Settling between your thighs.

Your protest breaking off, turning sharp as his tongue flicks against your sensitive clit.

He never minds cleaning up a mess.

Somewhere along the way, with the swapping of hands and press of mouths, you forget how this all started.

That silly little game slipping from your mind, as you watch Logan make good on his promise. The flex of Wade’s throat as he takes him to the hilt, a contented hum replacing the running commentary.

Getting him ready again for now. Your own legs trembling, knees pressing into the carpet again as you keep your balance.

Leaning into the soft swipe of a tongue between your thighs. Your own teasing clit and cock, dragging against Logan’s length as he rocks into Vanessa.

Her fingers pinch at your tits from beneath you, making you groan. Wade’s spit-slick thumb nudging against your ass, as he sinks deep.

His other hand gripping your hip, tugging you back to meet him, when your rhythm grows sloppy.

Not using to being surrounded, like this.

Logan’s hand on the back of your head. Fingers twisted in your hair, keeping your mouth positioned against the pussy below you.

Keeping you focused, as spit swirls on your tongue. Dropping down from parted lips, as Logan fucks it into her. Your mouth following, feeling how she squirms beneath you.

Wade’s hand around the back of Logan’s neck - tugging until their mouths meet, above. That loop of pleasure, slowly growing.

They ruin you for everyone else. How could you ever go back, after this? Guiding hands as they move you into place. Addicted to the sweet stretch - keeping your mouth and pussy full, just like you needed.

Don’t know how they can keep going. Wade had joked about their stamina before, but you had always thought he was exaggerating.

They seem dead-set on seeing the sunrise with you, and at this moment, you don’t seem to care.

Not with the way Wade’s cock strokes a spot inside you that has you seeing stars. The little whine as you try to squirm away, only to have three sets of hands on you.

Helping you lean into it - the swirling surge that threatens to pull you under. The way you tighten, breath growing short as you pant against Logan’s hip.

Wade’s name on your lips, all but sobbed out.

“Five.” He coos.

And they’re still not finished yet.

You’re using someone’s thigh as a pillow. Logan’s, you think, from the heat and dark dust of hair when your cheek turns.

Fucked out, cock-and-pussy drunk. Completely boneless, and you’re sure you owe someone some dry-cleaning, with the way Wade had just made you gush.

Vanessa’s head tucked against your shoulder, her long hair ticking your nose.

“Did you decide?” She asks sleepily - the slight curve of her lips as for face tips so she can see you.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip. Wade’s fingers tracing circles against your hip, from where his arm is thrown over the waist.

Greedy girl he has said, earlier. He was right. Always prone to overthinking, but there was something that felt simple, now. Inevitable, in the way that you fit together even better than before.

Like it was always meant to be.

The golden peek of sun washes warm over you, the question coming easily.

“Can I pick all of you?”

She smiles.

“I was hoping you’d ask that.”

thank you so much for reading! 💖

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Satoru sat nervously at a corner table in the quaint café, fiddling with his coffee cup as he stole glances at the girl across from him. She was animatedly discussing her favorite book, her eyes sparkling with passion. Satoru found himself captivated by her enthusiasm, her words weaving a tapestry of imagination and wonder.

Yet, amidst her lively chatter, Satoru couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of your absence. Your memory lingered like a ghost in the air, casting a shadow over his newfound happiness. He tried to push aside the guilt that gnawed at him, but it clung to him like a stubborn shadow.

Certain things the girl did, her mannerisms, her laughter, it all reminded him of you. His mind began to drift back to memories of you – your laughter echoing in the corners of his mind, the soft touch of your hand, the warmth of your embrace, your gentle kisses, all of it. He could still hear the sound of your voice, gentle and soothing, like a melody that once filled his days with joy.

The girl’s laughter interrupted his reverie, drawing him back to the present. She smiled at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she leaned forward, her enthusiasm contagious. “Isn’t it amazing?” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with excitement. “The way words can transport you to another world?”

Satoru nodded, offering a faint smile in return. “Yeah, it’s… it’s incredible,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He wanted to immerse himself in her enthusiasm, to lose himself in the magic of her words. But a part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that he was betraying you, that he was moving on too soon.

The girl tilted her head, her gaze softening as she studied him. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice gentle and concerned. “You seem… distant.”

Satoru forced a smile, trying to push aside the turmoil churning inside him. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice barely concealing the tremor of uncertainty. “Just… lost in thought, I guess.”

Suddenly, after he spoke those six words, it was as if everything went still, like time stopped completely. Satoru didn’t seem to notice, his eyes still locked on his coffee cup. That was until he heard a voice he never thought he would hear again.

”Hello, my love~” You said, your voice echoing throughout the room.

Satoru’s gaze swiftly shifted, and there, across from him, he beheld your apparition seated beside the girl. Your eyes, brimming with love and understanding, met his, casting a spectral presence amidst the ordinary ambiance of the café. You appeared like an angel descended from above, adorned with a radiant glow enveloping your form, your hair and eyes as resplendent as he remembered. Truly, you were ethereal in every sense.

Your presence was unmistakable, your soul reaching out to him across the void to deliver a message of love and acceptance.

Satoru's breath caught in his throat as he looked into your eyes, not sure how this was happening. But all he knew was that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, your presence a bittersweet reminder of the love he had lost and the pain that still lingered within him.

He reached out a trembling hand, wanting to touch you, to feel the warmth of your presence one last time. Tears welled in Satoru’s eyes as he whispered your name, a prayer on his lips. “Y/n…”

You smiled up at him, holding your hand out for him to grab. His fingers quickly laced with yours, a warm and comforting feeling running all through his body as he felt your touch once more.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you, my sweet Toru~” You spoke softly, caressing his face from across the table.

Tears were overflowing his face, his heart breaking every second that passed as he felt you.

”Wh-what are you doing here? H-How are you even here?” He questioned, but you just bring his hand up to your lips, giving him a quick peck.

”Do not worry about that, my love. There are other important matters I want to talk to you about before I take my leave.” You finished, caressing your thumb over the back of his hand.

”Leave? No, please, don’t leave me again, Y/n. I…I can’t live without you. I miss you so much.” He begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled softly at him, a soft chuckle emitting from your lips. ”I will never leave you, Toru,” you replied, your smile never faltering. “I’ll always be with you, in your heart and in your memories. And wherever you go, whatever you do, I’ll be watching over you, guiding you along the way.”

Your presence lingered, even as Satoru’s attention turned back to the girl sitting across from him. He couldn’t help but notice how her eyes sparkled with genuine warmth and kindness, how her laughter filled the air with joy. And yet, despite her charms, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she paled in comparison to you.

As he looked back at you, your hands still intertwined, he felt a pang of guilt wash over him. How could he move on with someone else when his heart still belonged to you?

“She seems nice,” you spoke, your voice soft and gentle.

Satoru nodded, his throat tightening with emotion. “She is, but she’s nothing like you, Y/n. I…I think I need to cut ties with her before it’s too late. I can’t imagine going out with someone else who isn’t you,” he admitted, tears still falling down his face.

You smiled again, your touch like a soothing balm on his wounded heart. Gently, you leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss against his tear-stained cheek.

“Toru,” you whispered, your voice filled with love and understanding. “It’s okay to let go. It’s okay to find happiness again, even if it’s in someone else’s arms. I want you to be happy, more than anything in this world. I mean, It’s been five years since I’ve passed…it’s time for you to embrace the life that awaits you. You deserve to be happy, to find love and joy once more.”

Satoru shook his head, unable to accept the truth of your words. “But how can I move on without you? You were everything to me, Y/n. Without you, I’m lost.”

Your smile softened, a gentle reassurance in your eyes. “You were and still are my everything too, Toru. But love is not confined to the boundaries of this world. It transcends time and space, connecting us in ways that defy understanding.”

As your words sank in, Satoru felt a glimmer of hope flicker to life within him. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to honor your memory while still embracing the future that lay ahead.

“But what if I forget you?” he whispered, his voice tinged with fear.

You shook your head, giggling a bit, your hand tightening around his. “You could never forget me, Toru. I will always be a part of you, woven into the fabric of your being. And no matter where life takes you, my love will always be there to guide you.”

Satoru’s heart ached at your words, torn between his longing for you and his desire to move forward. But as he looked into your eyes, he saw nothing but love and acceptance, a silent blessing for the path he had yet to tread.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way, my love. But I cannot change what has happened. What I can do is help you find your peace. And help you realize that no matter what, I will be waiting for you on the other side with open arms when its your time. But for now,” You began, slowly fading away, your form dissolving into the stillness that surrounded them. You grabbed his face and looked deep into his eyes, going in for one last kiss.

“It’s time to move on and be happy again~”

Satoru watched you go, his heart heavy with sorrow yet buoyed by a newfound sense of peace.

”I love you, Y/n~” He whispered as he felt your hand disappear.

”I love you, my Toru. Forever and always~” You finished as you finally disappeared into thin air.

After your ethereal presence faded away, leaving Satoru with a bittersweet ache in his heart, the world around him slowly began to stir back to life. Time resumed its steady march forward, the hustle and bustle of the café gradually filling the air once more.

Satoru blinked, his gaze drifting from the empty space where you had been sitting to the girl across from him. She watched him with concern, her eyes reflecting the warmth and compassion that had drawn him to her in the first place.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft with genuine concern.

Satoru nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah," he replied, his voice steady. "Yeah, I think I am."

And with those words, he reached out to her, his hand finding hers in the space between them.

As they talked, the café buzzed with life around them, the clink of cups and the murmur of conversation blending into a comforting backdrop. And in that moment, Satoru realized that he wasn’t just sharing a cup of coffee with a girl – he was opening his heart to the possibility of a new beginning.

And as they sat there, hands entwined, Satoru realized that he wasn't just letting go of his grief – he was embracing the possibility of a future filled with love and happiness, guided by the memory of the one he had lost but never forgotten.

He looked out the window, seeing your figure once more with a bright smile on your face as you saw him learning to move on.

“Until we meet again, my love~” You whispered, disappearing back to the afterlife.

_____________________

Currently crying and throwing up after writing this T.T

[i-care-4u]

Heyyy, was wondering if you could do a request but for central cee anything that makes you comfortable! 💕

NICE TO MEET YOU | CENTRAL CEE

PAIR: CENTRAL CEE X SINGER!READER

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST

you looked around at your teammates as you planned your next move. "any other artists in mind?" you inquired, seeking new inspiration for your latest endeavor. eli, one of the producers for your album, checked his list before asking, "what about central cee? that will sound unique."

"of all people, you decided to pick central cee?"

"i'll tell you what y/n. the list i have and those past studio sessions are just the demos. this isn't official yet."

you stood there in quiet, the mere mention of central cee's name eliciting a slew of mixed feelings. while you acknowledged his artistry, you couldn't get beyond your dislike for his music.

the dislike started when you were scrolling on tiktok. a video popped up with the background music being central cee’s rapping over a sample of an indie song that you listened a lot during your teenage years. immediately, you rolled your eyes, mouthing to yourself. “now why would he do this to an already perfect song?”

but while the thought of collaboration lingered in the air, you recognized that the most difficult partnerships might produce the most unexpected benefits. so, with a hesitant nod, you agreed to investigate the possibilities.

"i'll do it. but if it sounds shitty, just know it won't make it to the album, based on my terms."

-

ONE WEEK LATER, STUDIO SESSION

the studio was a sound sanctuary, a haven of creativity and tension. as you took your seat, the weight of prior conflicts with central cee hung in the air, casting a shadow across the entire room. despite your disagreements, you were all determined to make this collaboration a success. eli looked between you and central cee with a hopeful but cautious gaze. "okay, let's get started. cee, you go first."

central cee nodded, his gaze steady as he approached the microphone. as the pace slowed, his voice filled the room, each word brimming with passion and fire. regardless of your feelings about his music, there's no denying the strength of his delivery. "that was great. we'll come back in a couple of minutes." you noticed central cee lean back in his chair, a cocky smirk spreading over his lips. "not bad, huh?"

you bristled at his demeanor, years of hostility coming to the surface. "it could use some work," you muttered under your breath, unable to conceal the harshness in your tone. central cee's eyes narrowed, and a frown crossed his lips. "and what would you know about it?"

the words hung between you, filled with unsaid tension. however, before things could deteriorate, eli intervened, his voice calm but stern. "hey, let's focus on creating this song. we're all here to make something that'll get the audience moving, remember?"

"alright," cee mumbled, his voice rough yet reluctantly obedient. as the session resumed, you found yourself sliding into a rhythm of collaboration, with each moment of dread eclipsed by the common goal of acclaim. ideas flowed freely as you and central cee collaborated to make the tune genuinely remarkable.

by the end of the session, the studio was buzzing with activity, demonstrating the power of collaboration and compromise. as you listened to the mix, you were filled with pride, knowing that you and central cee had overcome your differences to produce something truly spectacular. this was only the first step.

before he left, central cee caught you off guard with a surprising question. "hey, uh, y/n," he said tentatively. "i was wondering if you'd be up for grabbing a coffee or something sometime?" you blinked, surprised by the unexpected invitation. despite the tension you had caused in the session, his sincerity was endearing. after a few period, you nodded, unable to deny the tug of intrigue on your insides. "fine," you said, your tone more sour than you intended.

"tomorrow afternoon?"

"that would be great."

-

A DAY LATER, THE CAFE

the next day, you found yourself sitting across from central cee in a modest cafe, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee flowing over the air. despite the remaining anxiety, your cautious smiles expressed a genuine sense of amazement and enthusiasm. "so, uh, thanks for agreeing to meet up," central cee said, his voice uncertain but genuine. you nodded and took a sip of coffee to hide the nervous flutter in your stomach. "okay, no thank you, cee. i figured it couldn't hurt to get to know each other better."

"oakley."

"oakley?" you raised an eyebrow.

"you know, you don't have to call me by my stage name in these scenarios."

as the afternoon went on, you couldn't help but notice the unexpected bond that had grown between you and oakley. despite the tough start, you developed a strong bond and mutual respect.

"so what was up with you in that session yesterday? you seemed pissed."

oakley's question hung in the air, and you paused, wondering how to respond. memories of heat that had simmered between you during the session surfaced, each one a painful reminder of the boundaries that had divided you.

"i guess i just wasn't sure what to expect," you explained, your tone cautious. "i had my doubts about how well we'd work together, given our... differences in genres."

oakley nodded seriously and sat back in his chair. "i get that. it is tough to work with someone that is outside your circle." his words were somber, expressing a shared understanding of the problems that lay ahead. there was a sense of understanding and acceptance that alleviated the tension between you. "otherwise, i believe we made some progress," oakley stated with a confident tone.

"i believe so. i just wanted to apologize about earlier. i came in harsh, but it's since i care about my craft, a lot. therefore, that makes me too protective."

oakley smiled, a real smile that filled his eyes. "i understand it. and, to be honest, i enjoy the aura you give off. i prefer my girl mean." you laughed together, and the tension between you subsided. "well, lucky for you, i can be pretty mean when i need to be."

-

TWO DAYS LATER, SECOND STUDIO SESSION + ALBUM ANNOUNCEMENT

eli watched with delight and astonishment as the two of you developed songs that blended your distinct styles into something very unique. the pieces you created showcased the power of teamwork, combining your melodic sensibilities with oakley's raw, poetic energy.

oakley looked to you with a thoughtful expression. "i never expected us to bond like this. but you've encouraged me to think differently about my music, and i believe it's helping me become a better artist."

"at this point, forget the critics," you laughed.

although you were known as a "pop darling" to critics, you knew it was going to happen every time. as the album neared completion, the excitement around your collaboration grew. fans and reviewers alike were eager to learn the conclusion of the unexpected partnership, and the enthusiasm only fueled your ambition to create something memorable.

you and oakley stood side by side, smiling with pride and enthusiasm as you listened to the finished mix.

"i guess this is it, the final product," you looked oakley with delight, "so what do you say next week?"

"for the song to be out?" oakley asked.

you nod, "mhm."

"that sounds great."

as the first track was released and feedback flooded in, it became evident that your partnership was a huge success. it began gaining traction on tiktok and instagram, where eventually it started climbing up to the billboard hot 100 chart, peaking at #2.

the music attracted audiences in ways you never expected, and the odd collaboration, which began with doubt and effort, grew into something truly incredible.

[queenshelby]

AMERICAN GIRL (PART FIVE)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace's Stepdaughter!Reader

Warning: Grace is a bully, infidelity, taboo

When you made your way to your bedroom, you were surprised to see Emma, pretending to sleep in your bed. It was a clear statement – she wanted you to stay with her that night and you wondered whether she had a nightmare again.

"Sshh, it's alright," you whispered to her as  you sat down on the edge of the bed, gently stroking her hair. She didn't respond at first but gradually shifted closer to you, nuzzling her head on your shoulder.

"Why did he kiss you?" she  asked softly, curiosity tinting her voice.

"He shouldn't have," you admitted. "And honestly, I shouldn't be talking about this with you. You should be fast asleep, sweetheart."

Her grip tightened on your hand. "I am sorry I spied on you. I just heard the car pull up and hoped that it was you coming home," Emma  confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's alright, Em," you replied while still comforting her. 

"Do you like him?"  She asked the question hesitantly, as if she were unsure she wanted to know the answer.

Leaning down, I placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "I actually think I might, but you can't tell Grace about it, okay?" you told Emma and she nodded obediently, hugging you tightly. 

You continued to run your fingers through Emma's hair, her breathing becoming deep and regular as sleep overtook her. Lulled by her slumbering figure, you let your thoughts drift, lingering on the curve of Thomas's smile and the way your heartbeat quickened with merely his presence.

You indeed wondered why had kissed you and whether it meant anything to him. There were many questions now that were clogging your mind, and you knew that there was no possible way that you could go to sleep like this. You had to know  – you had to find out the real reason behind Thomas's kiss. Had it been mere curiosity? Or perhaps, it was his impulsive side, leading him to act on his emotions?

You carefully disentangled yourself from Emma, who nestled deeper into her blankets, her soft snores reassuring you she wouldn't wake up anytime soon. You took one last look at her cherub face before stepping out of the room, gently closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Stepping into the dimly lit hallway, the oak floorboards creaked beneath your weight, guiding your path as you traversed the long winding corridors of the Shelby Residence. 

Arriving at the top of the grand staircase, you paused, basking in the stillness that enveloped the mansion. Every step you took echoed the turmoil brewing within you. The unknown left you both excited and anxious but unable to resist the temptation of discovery.

As expected, you saw some light coming from Tommy's office, and you found yourself drawn to it almost magnetically. Knocking  softly on the door, you entered only to find Thomas, all on his own, deep in thought, and absorbed by some official documents.

"You're still up," you murmured, your voice barely registering in the grand space.

Thomas looked up, his features softening at the sight of you. He closed the folder, his eyes not leaving yours, as he leaned back in his leather chair. "I am, but not for much longer." He smiled, his gaze sweeping over your figure in a quick, almost imperceptible manner.

It was a subtle gesture; however, it triggered goosebumps to spread across your skin.

"Come in," he offered, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the mahogany desk. Thomas's eyes were vivid pools of curiosity; there was a certain intrigue brimming within him, and you were both the question and the answer to his restless night.

You hesitated for only a fleeting moment before moving further into the office. Its atmosphere was ripe with the scent of aged oak and the musky aroma of leather-bound books.

"Why did you kiss me?" you asked the question that had been weighing on your mind, the words falling lightly between you.

Thomas studied you for a moment, his eyes deep with unspoken reflections. "Impulse," he murmured at last, the single syllable carrying an emotional weight that seemed to defy explanation. He didn’t offer anything more, leaving you somewhat puzzled, and yet somehow, satisfied.

"I see," you replied quietly, your voice steady and measured as the silence lengthened between you. "So it was a mistake then?"  you asked, your voice barely wavering despite the disquiet building deep inside of you. Thomas stared at you for a moment, carefully weighing his next words. His eyes held a magnetic pull, his commanding presence making your heart race uncontrollably.

"Yes," he admitted quietly, drowning you both in an extended and deafening silence. The word hung in the air, a shocking revelation - an unwelcome truth. 

"Alright then," you murmured softly, masking your inner turmoil. You mustered a smile that failed to reach the depth of your eyes. "Have a good night, Tommy," you managed to say, swallowing down the bitterness.

Your voice sounded detached, as if it belonged to someone else entirely. You tried to pry your gaze away from his, but the pull towards Thomas was simply too strong to break free from him so easily.

Eventually though, you succeeded and you knew that, tomorrow was going to be another day.

You gently pushed the office door open, making no attempt to obscure the soft sigh that escaped your lips as you reentered the vast but comforting presence of the hallway. The dimmed glow of sconces adorning the walls guided your steps back to the sanctuary of your bedroom.

Returning to your bedchamber, you observed that this time around Emma lay undisturbed, wrapped in the soothing embrace of her dreams. As you undressed and slipped beneath the sheets, a myriad of unanswered questions whirled through your mind like an impenetrable fog.

With every attempt to make sense of the mysterious tension between you and Thomas, your thoughts became increasingly frayed and jumbled but, as the early morning light began to dance through the drapes, you finally drifted off into a fitful sleep. 

You awoke late, almost forgetting about your shift at the store. Quickly dressing, you hurried downstairs to save yourself from being late, skipping breakfast in the process.

Rushing out the door, you took a deep breath, prepared for another day of drudgery away from the Shelby residence but just as you looked around, you realised that there was no one to drive you.

Thus, you decided to take the car on the far left before driving off yourself to the town. The driveway seemed endless and unendingly twisted, but it served to prepare your mind for the day ahead. Fortunately, you managed to reach the parking lot of the Birmingham store where you worked with five minutes to spare.

As you entered the shop, you were somewhat surprised to see three bunches of flowers and a box of chocolates neatly arranged beside your station, catching your eye and not long after that, Ada came stumbling past.

"It looks like you made quite an impression last night at the Garrison,"  she teased, needling you with a pinch of friendly envy.

You blushed profusely as you took in the gifts before you with newfound surprise. 

"I suppose I did," you managed in response, trying to put on a nonchalant facade as you read through the notes and requests for dates from four different suitors.  You'd never had such attention from the opposite gender, and the sudden popularity made your heart race in excitement while also triggering an underlying shiver of anxiety.

"Of course, you did," Ada said wryly. "You're a Shelby now, remember? The perfect blend of grace and grit. No wonder they couldn't get enough."

Lost in the sea of compliments and secret longing, you barely noticed the day fly by and, just as the clock struck three, Tommy came walking into the store with his brothers Finn and Arthur.

"What is the go with all these fucking flowers?" Arthur  grumbled, eyeing the sea of red roses and delicate lilies surrounding you. You couldn't suppress your blush, shifting nervously as his gaze slid from the bouquets to you, lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Tommy, however, remained silent as he took in the scene before him, his icy blue eyes scrutinizing every minute detail with a shrewd precision that made your skin prickle with awareness.

"These flowers were delivered here for Y/N, by several potential suitors I believe. So Finn, you really need to pick up your game if you want to catch her eye," Ada teased, causing Finn to blush.

"Uhm, right," he stammered before actually attempting to ask you out on a date while Tommy  studied you the entire time, an almost inscrutable look on his face. "Would you, perhaps, consider going out with me? I could take you somewhere nice," Finn  suggested, his voice wavering slightly as he offered you an awkward smile.

You eyed him kindly, understanding his discomfort. "Sure, I would love to," you replied softly. "Perhaps next week we could see a movie together," you offered, causing Tommy to gaze at you with a mixture of curiosity and perhaps a hint of irritation. Your attention was split between the unexpected date you just agreed to and the man who held your heart hostage, causing you  to feel dizzy and at his mercy.

"Finn is no fucking match for you Y/N. He is just a child playing games," Thomas finally interjected after both his brothers had left the store, waiting for him outside, smoking.

His tone was sharp; the edge of his words sliced through the air, ripe with unspoken accusations and concealed turmoil.

"Nonetheless, it is her decision, Tommy," Ada countered on your behalf, not understanding that, perhaps, her older brother was jealous . His mind spun with unsettling thoughts, feelings he couldn't quite understand. The jealousy he harbored towards Finn and every other potential suitor who did as little as just glance at you, left him infuriated.

"It is, but we don't want her to break Finn's fucking heart, eh"  Thomas retorted, his voice thick with sarcasm.

"And I have no attention of breaking anyone's heart," you replied defensively, the tone of your voice hinting at the frustration growing within you.

"Well then enjoy your date at the pictures, Y/N," Tommy said sarcastically, taking another drag of his cigarette to mask the awkwardness that hung in the air.

Unwilling to prolong the conversation, you began tidying the flowers and organizing them in a vase. Your actions, however, couldn't quell the burning curiosity that consumed you. The questions plaguing your mind swirled like a whirlpool, threatening to drown you in its enigmatic depths.

Why did Thomas care about what you did with your personal life? Furthermore, had his kiss meant something to him after all? Was it merely an impulse, as he had claimed? Or was there something deeper and unspoken that even he wasn't ready to confront just yet?

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[stellar-skyy]

Hiii congrats on 200!!

May I have hot honey & vanilla tea with lyney? Extra fluffy if you can 😌

“lyney! i have an order for lyney, a honey and vanilla tea!”

☆ — if you're craving a drink, make sure to stop by the teashop!

i. SUMMARY: Lyney finds his partner crying, and reminds them they are loved. ii. CWS & NOTES: crying. reader has a bad day and lyney comforts them. lyney x gn!reader. hurt/comfort & fluff. established relationship. 1k words. iii. A/N: aly!! thank you for your order!! i think i bent the prompt a little bit, so this came out a bit more hurt/comfort than strictly fluff, but i hope you enjoy regardless!

Lyney slid his key into the lock, turning it with a click. The noise was loud in the quiet of the night, abruptly tearing through the silence. He paused, letting the night settle once more, before pushing the door open.

“[Name]! I’m back,” Lyney called, hooking his finger under the brim of his hat to tug it off his head. It was tossed unceremoniously onto the table, along with his gloves. His boots were next, stacked beside the door in a row with the rest of the shoes.

“Hello…?” He tried again, gently pushing open a door to peer into a deserted living room.

There wasn’t any sign of life in the room, but there were traces. The pillows were askew, scattered above a small dent in the couch where someone had left too quickly to smooth it back down. A mug rested on the side table—his mug, Lyney noted, not theirs—with the residue of a drink long gone still lingering at the bottom. There was a strange silence in the air, which unnerved him more than he would like to admit. At this time there was always something; distant beats of music coming from somewhere in the house, or the unintelligible sound of chatter from the television two rooms over, or even just quiet thumps and echoes that reminded him of another presence within the house.

“My dear, are you home?” Lyney called out again. The sound of his voice reverberated across the walls, with no answering call to meet him. His brow furrowed further, an uneasy feeling seizing him tightly. It wrapped itself around his lungs, squeezing tighter with every step out of the living room and through the hall.

A light glowed dimly from under the final door of the hallway, their shared bedroom. Straining his ears, he could hear a low, muffled sound from behind it. A smile graced his lips, coated in relief, and the tension slowly eased itself away from his chest, if only by a fraction. They were in the bedroom, it seemed; they had simply turned in early. There wasn’t a need to worry at all.

Still, Lyney was ill at ease. It was late in the night, far later than any reasonable person would be awake for, but they always waited for him on nights like these. Their face filled his thoughts in every step of the walk home, idle wonderings of whether they had made dinner yet, or how they were spending their evening.

Lyney gripped the doorhandle, swinging the door open with a touch too much force. The bedroom was dark, save for the light of a bedside lamp dimly illuminating a curled-up figure on the bed.

“Ah, there you are! I was beginning to think you pulled a disappearing act on me! But of course, I’m the only magician here—” He cut himself off abruptly, as his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness of the room. Squinting, he could see the outline of their form grow sharper, smoothing out to show the details he had missed on his first glance.

A sheen glossed over their red and swollen eyes. The edge of the blanket was clutched in a hand so tight it was shaking. Their breaths were fractured, drawn sharply from their place under the sheets.

“Are you alright?” Lyney asked, keeping his tone light, in spite of the panic clouding his thoughts. His mind was buzzing, spinning in circles with constant questions of why. “Come on, you didn’t miss me that much, did you?” He tried to joke as he walked up to the side of the bed, grasping at any chance of easing the tension in the room.

A weak sob broke apart any feeble attempt at lightening the mood.

“Shh… I’m sorry, it’s okay, I’m here…” he whispered, settling a hand on their cheek. “You’re okay. I’m here. I love you.”

I love you. The words fell almost too easily, surprising himself. Love was always a distant emotion to him; felt, but rarely spoken aloud, for fear it would vanish the moment his lips formed the words. But he knew he loved them—so much, so much more than they would ever be able to see.

“I love you,” he said again, firmer—to convince himself as well as them. His hands shifted from their cheek and brushed along their arm with a feather-light touch, grasping their hands in his own. He brought them to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “Now what’s wrong? Did you have a bad day?”

A murmur; not quite affirmative, not quite refusing.

“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to.” He reassured them, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on the side of his hand. “I’ll be ready when you do.”

Lyney let go of their hands for a moment to shrug off the outer layers of clothing, letting them fall into a pile on the carpet. He didn’t bother to properly change into his nightclothes; instead, he fell onto the bed, costume and all. The corseted portion of his outfit dug into his skin uncomfortably, but he barely noticed; he was too busy tugging them against his chest.

“I love you,” he said as he kissed their forehead, leaving his lips resting on their skin for a beat.

“I love you, so much.” He murmured as his fingers began to card through their hair, working out all of the tangles that had found themselves there.

“I love you, and whatever you’re going through, I am here for you.” He promised as he pulled them as close as they could, resting with their face in the crook of his neck and his arms draped loosely on their hips.

Their sobs soon evened out to low, shuddering breaths that left them shaking in his arms. Lyney was still, only daring to move his hand to trace circles across their back. Even with all his reassurance, they were yet to speak a single word. He continued to speak anyway, pressing his nose to their head and whispering into their hair, between gentle kisses to their face.

Each one was a promise, a lingering reminder that he was there. One to the bridge of their nose, one more to their forehead, two to each of their cheeks. They were peppered across their face, scattered like invisible stars in the smallest of skies.

He would wait there as long as he needed to, murmuring gentle words under his breath until they knew just how loved they truly were.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (13)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: T Words: 1.7k Summary: Daisy, Daisy

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Sunlight wakes you up.

Your Cowboy isn’t nearby and he definitely didn’t wake you up for your watch. You stretch, noting the bandage wrapped around your arm. You can’t even imagine how tired you must have been to sleep through him removing the needle.

Then again, yesterday had been quite the day.

There’s a bottle next to you, filled with distinctive red and yellow pills. You swallow one down, figuring the lingering effects of the Rad-Away will stack well enough with the Rad-X. No sense in not being careful, and their presence is signal enough that your Cowboy has his mind on some things.

Good, so did you.

The fire is out and you slowly sit up, digging in your pack for breakfast. You’re halfway through a ration bar when he strides back in, all confidence and cocksure grin.

“Looks like we might make the foothills today if we hustle.”

You nod, swinging the pack on and climbing to your feet, mouth half full of dry oats. The sudden movement makes you wince and you try to shift your weight as inconspicuously as possible.

He notices, of course.

“You hurt?”

“Sore,” you mumble, trying not to meet his eye.

“Sore? From wha-?” He seems to suddenly realize and that cocksure grin of his gets even wider, if that’s possible. “Well now, can’t say there’s much I can do about that.”

“Well, I’m going to need some recovery time,” you tell him primly, trying to hide your smile when he laughs.

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he catches your hand and presses a kiss to your fingers, slipping one into his mouth briefly before letting you slide away, “plenty of other trouble we can get up to.”

Was it hot in here? You were suddenly sweating.

Thankfully - for your journey more than your sanity - he sets off for the day after that exchange, pace steady and sure. The ground is mostly dirt and you walk side by side down what’s left of an old road.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He glances your way from under the brim of his hat. “S’pose that depends on the question.”

“What do you do?” He blinks at you and you rephrase, “I mean, you’re obviously pretty good with a gun, you’re… what you are. I’m just wondering - what do you do? To earn caps? To pass the time.”

“Oh,” he turns from you to scan the horizon, drawing the word out, “bit of this, bit of that.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Never said I would.”

You huff, picking your way around some rubble. “Gigolo?”

It gives you a little too much satisfaction to see him stumble, head turned back to look incredulously at you. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’d be good at it,” you say blandly as you pass him. You don’t get far, his hand catching on the back of your skirt and pulling you back into his chest.

“They do say if you’re good at something, never do it for free.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any caps on me,” you sigh theatrically, reaching back to slink a hand behind his neck, “do you take any other forms of payment?”

He bites you in retaliation, his tongue quickly soothing the flesh. You should be more concerned, you know that. He’s necrotic and by all accounts has been for a long time. The chance he’s eaten a person were pretty high - although you can hope they weren’t alive at the time and deserved it a little.

“I think we can make some arrangements,” he drawls into your ear and you giggle, twisting away from him. There’s a group of abandoned buildings ahead of you and you dart towards them, listening for his footfalls behind you. He’s quick to follow, a gruff laugh escaping him as he gives chase.

You turn to skip backwards, grinning at him. “C’mon, you can do better than that.”

He bares his teeth at you and starts to say something when his eyes dart over your shoulder and suddenly he’s next to you, pushing you behind him.

“Well howdy fellas, something we can do for you?”

You turn and see them - four men, each with guns, standing in the road ahead. There’s another on top of a building nearby.

“We’re after the girl.”

“Well I’m thinking you might have to find one of your own, this one here is mine.” He’s keeping himself between you and them and you have no problem letting him. He’ll heal up a heck of a lot quicker than you anyway.

“We ain’t lookin for trouble, ghoul. I imagine we’re all after the same thing.”

He cuts his eyes to you before turning back to them. “I thought you might say something stupid like that.”

The first gunshot takes you by surprise, his pistol jumping into his hand so quickly it looks like magic. One man goes down instantly as his compatriots scatter. Your Cowboy goes for the next but you lay a restraining hand on his arm, pulling him behind a wall.

“I thought we agreed on not shooting first and asking questions later?”

“I don’t intend to ask them questions, darlin’,” he responds, unholstering his rifle and casually taking aim around the corner. The shot makes you cover your ears but you still hear someone scream in the distance. The wall next to his head explodes and he jerks back, a piece of stone embedded just beneath his eye.

“You’re hurt!” you cry out, pulling his face towards yours. He shrugs you off, touching the area before refocusing. 

“It’ll be fine.”

You pull at everything in you and force him to look at you. “Let me talk to them.”

He curses but doesn’t shoot again, glaring at you all the while. You wait a moment before calling out in your sweetest voice, “It seems we got off on the wrong foot.”

“That bastard killed Darryl!”

You glare at your Cowboy who looks entirely unrepentant. “Well, you were holding guns on us, it’s a dangerous place out here.” 

A breeze caresses your face and you take a chance, stepping around the wall over your Cowboy’s spluttered protests. Your skirt whips around your knees and against the back of your neck as you hold your hands up. “I’m sure we can come to an amicable agreement!”

A head pops up, the scarred face staring back at you slack jawed. “Well hell you look just like her, Daisy Mae in the flesh.”

Groaning softly you try to keep your expression chipper. “Ain’t that something! May I ask what you’re here for?”

“You know what we’re here for.”

Well shit, you did. It was too much to hope that that asshole hadn’t sent people after you. But you really didn’t want them talking about that. “Well, then I think you also know that I’m not really interested in acquiescing.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“She ain’t going with you, numbnuts.”

You try not to roll your eyes at your Cowboy’s words. He gives you a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Want me to rephrase that as a question?”

There’s the sound of a shot, and suddenly pain blooms along your side. You clutch at it automatically, gasping softly, and then he’s there. Your Cowboy. One arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you out of the line of fire.

Distantly you hear yelling, hear the men arguing with each other. But all you can see is the burned face of the man above you. 

“Ah shit,” he grunts, pressing a cloth to the wound, “you ain’t got enough blood to be losing this much.”

“Sorry,” you mumble in return, trying to give him a halfhearted smile, “I’d rather it be on the inside too.”

He gives you a quick smile, pressing your hands to the cloth. “Am I allowed to do some hurting now?”

You wave a hand weakly, “Have at it.”

It’s efficient, whatever it is. Seven shots over the course of less than a minute. All of them from him as far as you can tell. None of them sound far enough away to be anyone else. You poke at the wound as he does it, grimacing at the ragged edges. Hopefully it wasn’t organic - you could probably heal up from a bit of metal if you were careful - but organic stuff had a tendency to fester.

Boots crunch on rock and you barely glance up as your Cowboy drops into a crouch next to you. He’s got a pack in his hand, a bandage in the other. You try to wave him off but he bats your hands away. 

“It ain’t much, but it’ll set you up til we can find somewhere safe.”

“I’m fine,” you try to tell him even as he presses the somewhat clean gauze to your wound. “I don’t need-”

He cuts you off with a hand around your wrist, pulling you to your feet and throwing your arm over his shoulder. You cry out in pain and he freezes for a moment before wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“You’ve been shot, so unless you and I got a fair bit more in common than you’ve been letting on, we need to get it treated.”

You nod, biting your lip. It hurts like a son of a bitch and you do your best to keep quiet as he leads you off in a different direction, towards what looks like a decently preserved building. Inside there are bedrolls and the remains of a fire - even a cot in one corner which he leads you near before leaning you against a wall. A moment later he reappears with a blanket from your pack, throwing it over the stained mattress and guiding you to lay down.

“Wait here, don’t move. I’m going to go roll the bodies, see if they have anything on them.”

“Roger that,” you say weakly, trying to give him a halfhearted salute. He snorts a laugh before heading out.

You close your eyes, just for a moment. Just to keep your head from spinning.

☢ ☢ ☢

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[torusmistress]

11:29 pm.

“where do you think youre going?” suguru asks, reaching for your wrist. “i’m leaving— i don’t have time for this geto,” you reply, pulling your arm from his grasp while fighting the tears stinging your eyes. he feels a pang in his chest at the use of his surname.

“let’s not go about it this way, baby you know i didn’t mean it,” he reasons, following after you as you walk for the door to your shared apartment. you actually pause for a second. were you overreacting?..

then you remember how he responded to your earlier questions. “stop being so insecure. shoko is just a friend, i don’t even see her like that.” he defends, glaring at you and wondering why you would ever even accuse him of something more. “i see the way her touch lingers, i see the looks you share. that’s not how friends act suguru!” you yell while your voice breaks, eyes filled to the brim with tears threatening to fall.

you snap out of your thoughts and rush on to the door. you turn to look at him one more time before grabbing your bag. you turn to the knob and grab it but before you can twist, your back is pushed to the door; his palm flat against it cornering you in. you look up to make eye contact with him.

“you’re not leaving til we fix this”

your heart flutters at feeling his warm breath on your face and having you in a kabedon against the wall. “i’m sorry about being so insensitive, but i don’t want you anywhere but here. especially when you’re in a bad mood. please stay here and let’s talk this out.. please.” he pleads with you, a newfound desperation in his voice.

“okay.. i’ll stay,” you reply. he flashes a small grin, his face half lit from the dimmed kitchen lights coming from across the apartment. “thank you.” he says as one of his hands pull your chin to look up directly to him. “can i kiss you?” he curtly asks.

“… yes.”

[freesia-writes]

From the prompt list

“the first initial kiss being a simple peck, then they immediately go back in for a stronger, more passionate one.”

With Echo??? First clone I thought of! Have fun :) can’t wait to read if you decide to write it!

I DID NOT EXPECT TO WRITE THIS MUCH, LOL. Echo pulled a Crosshair! ;) Sheesh.

Echo x GN!Reader Word Count: 3k!! Content: bar fight, first kiss, SW-universe cussing. ;)

You’d gotten quite used to seeing them in Cid’s parlor – a motley crew of bounty hunters or mercenaries or whatever they were. You probably should have known the specifics by now, but they didn’t like to talk about work. And you weren’t paid to talk, you were paid to deliver things without asking questions. So when you found yourself lingering more and more often, lost in conversation with one in particular, you began to wonder if he would be bad for business. Yet somehow, you didn’t care. 

Echo was a complete and total enigma – brave and cynical while also radiating warmth and integrity. You had so many questions that you held back, mostly because it wasn’t entirely polite to ask someone you just met why virtually half their body was cybernetic. So you stuck to the usual topics for a while: the local scene of Ord Mantell, the scum and villainy that was everywhere to be found, and random thoughts about the state of the galaxy. 

Before long, you were surprised to notice how much you looked forward to your courier assignments that brought you into his vicinity, and you found more and more excuses to have extra time there. Instead of lurking around the other hot spots of underworld business dealings to pick up additional jobs, you’d take him up on his offer for a game of darts or a mug of disgustingly cheap beer in a corner booth. It became difficult to deny the sinking feeling in your heart when you trotted down the stairs into Cid’s and the team was absent on a mission. 

But tonight, you were fortunate. The place was bustling – a whole new gang was in town, it seemed, and they were getting along well with the other less-than-respectable locals. The parlor was loud and lively, making it difficult to hear Echo over the incessant talking, scuffling, laughter, and shouting of all the patrons. His squad was enjoying a much-needed day off, scattered about the planet on their own pursuits of refreshment. Tech was working on the ship, Crosshair was seeking blissful solitude somewhere, and Hunter went with Wrecker and Omega on a Mantell Mix pursuit thinly disguised as a supply run. 

Echo had chosen to stay here, and you were trying not to read too much into it. But the conversation had been particularly open and honest tonight, and your head was buzzing with the excitement of connection and the general joviality of the bar. Your mouth hung open slightly as he finished his story, finally filling in all of the details of how he had come to be what and where he was. The last vestiges of pain was receding from his face after having recounted his entire horrid ordeal, and you couldn’t help but place a hand over his after he downed the rest of his drink and slapped the glass on the table. The sudden intimacy caught his attention, and his pale brown eyes were large as he regarded you beneath the bluish glow of the neon lights. 

“Sorry,” you said quickly, pulling your hand back. “I just… can’t believe it all. You’ve been through so much.” Your words fell out quickly as you tried to move past the potentially awkward moment, but Echo stared at the table, at his own hand where yours had rested just a moment ago. 

“Yeah,” he said absently, not meeting your gaze. “Not how I would have scripted it, that’s for sure.” He appeared to be deep in thought, sharp brows drawing together over his luminous eyes. When he finally did look up, he appeared to be brimming with something… a question, a realization… and he slowly opened his mouth to speak. 

CRASH!

A glass bottle shattered against the wall above the two of you, causing you to yelp and fling your arms over your head as liquid and pieces rained down. The table scraped loudly as Echo flew to his feet, hawkishly raking his eyes over the crowd. But there was no question where the disturbance had come from – a brawl had broken out across the room, and the shouting was growing louder as two entire groups immediately jumped into a conflict started by just two individuals. 

“Let’s get out of here,” you said urgently, pulling on his arm as you stood beside him. You knew when it was wise to make yourself scarce after having been caught in the crossfire more often than you’d like. These sorts of crowds were irrationally unpredictable and predictably irrational. Echo cast you a glance for a moment before turning back to the aggravated group, keeping his eye on them as they swung at each other and crashed into tables nearby. He seemed torn, giving you a quick nod but then muttering under his breath.

“They’re gonna tear the whole place up…”

Cid was nowhere to be seen, and other patrons were being dragged into the fight as it grew and grew. Tables were turning, glasses smashing, and it was all threatening to melt into utter chaos when suddenly a series of live blaster bolts exploded against the ceiling in rapid-fire succession. It was enough noise and light to catch everyone’s attention for a moment, allowing for a very temporary pause as Echo’s voice boomed across the room.

“Get out!” he shouted, standing on the seat next to you, blasters in hand. “Take this kriffing garbage somewhere else!” You were in shock, watching the various reactions across the faces before you. A good few of them took the opportunity to do just that, making their getaway before it escalated any further. But a few hard-headed beefcakes threw a couple more punches before advancing toward Echo. 

“Come on,” you said fearfully, pulling at his arm again as he stepped down beside you in a wide, prepared stance. 

“Yeah, listen to your tasty little friend,” the leader of the group teased, “Or we might have to teach both of you a lesson.” Echo bristled, head lowering slightly, and you could feel the rage emanating off of him. 

“Don’t,” you pleaded, feeling frantic.

“Can’t turn away now,” Echo responded without looking away from the few hooligans with smug grins on their faces, drawing closer with every step. Your heart was pounding in your chest, mouth completely dry at the thought of him getting hurt, even though you knew he put his life on the line on a regular basis. You began looking around for something, anything that might change the course of action. But then it all happened at once. 

Two of them leapt at Echo simultaneously, but his quick dodge left them running into each other. He rushed the third with his head down, plowing into his chest and smashing him into the wall behind. His head cracked against the stone loudly, and he sank to the floor unconscious. The others were back on their feet though, fists swinging in messy anger. Echo blocked one punch, landing a blow of his own and spinning the assailant to twist his arm up behind his back before squeezing the trigger on his blaster to hit the other one squarely in the chest with a bright blue stun ray. 

A squawk of pain escaped the first and he dropped his weight to the side, pulling Echo down with him as he freed his arm. He leapt up in a flash, aiming a kick that caught Echo in the ribs as he scrambled to his own feet. The sound was sickening, and the breathless grunt that left his lips made you feel his pain in your own stomach. But he moved impossibly fast, ducking another swing and landing a rapid one-two punch that had his opponent spinning. A quick lean followed by a powerful kick sent the other man crashing through another table where he landed in a crumpled heap on the ground, unmoving except for the occasional squirm. 

Echo was breathing hard, looking around quickly at any other potential attackers. But the rest of the crowd had either cleared out or was composed of the few remaining stragglers that were doing their best to maintain the semblance of normalcy as they drinked and chatted uneasily. He clutched a hand to his ribs, wincing with a scowl on his face, and you were by his side in an instant. 

“It’s fine,” he said automatically as you touched his shoulder, face radiating concern and affection that you just couldn’t hide anymore. You were relieved that he was alright, and as your pulse slowly returned to normal, you realized you were also completely in awe of his capability in a way that felt like more than just… awe… You were trying to find the words 

But you were interrupted by an angry-sounding tromping down the stairs from the street above, a sickening feeling rising in your stomach. As you saw a whole group of those same troublemakers from before, you realized who was associated with whom, and it was definitely time to go. You grabbed Echo’s arm, pulling him with surprising force toward Cid’s office. As he assessed the situation, you could see the indignation and anger on his face, but he ultimately allowed you to pull him away. When the office door whooshed shut behind you, you frantically tapped on the keypad to lock it from the inside. 

“I know you could take them all,” you began, turning around to face him. He was standing, but leaning on the edge of Cid’s desk, face grumpy as he rubbed a hand across his ribs. “But it’s not worth it. There’s an endless supply of idiocy like that around here – you’re going to put a target on your back.” 

“It’s just ridiculous that–” came his angry reply, but you stepped closer, cupping his cheek with a suddenness that surprised yourself. 

“I know,” you repeated, softly this time as his exhilarating proximity registered in your brain and body. “Sorry…” you admitted, casting about for words, “I just…” You faltered, trying to explain something you were only just now fully realizing for yourself. “Are your ribs broken?” 

The change of subject took his attention for a moment, and he felt the ridges and grooves with tentative fingers. He breathed in slowly, flinching when his lungs expanded to a certain point, and slowly let it out, raising his eyes to yours. “Maybe a little crack,” he said, the bitterness in his voice unfettered by the waves of pain. 

“You get into fights often?” you asked, lowering your hand from his cheek to rest on his shoulder. 

“Not if I don’t have to,” he answered, and you arched an eyebrow in response. “Alright, I know I didn’t have to say anything, but… it’s just not right…” His mutter trailed off as he shrugged, turning away in what might have been shame. You felt your heart swell in your chest at his sense of integrity, trying to find words to express it without completely giving away the depth of your feelings, but the beep of his comm interrupted your search.

Havoc 4, come in.  

He pulled it from his belt, lifting it to his mouth with an apologetic glance to you. “Go ahead.”

There appears to be a significant disturbance in the area of Cid’s parlor, according to the local surveillance network. What is your location?

“Yeah, there was a bar fight, Tech. It’s fine, it’s over now.”

That is not what I asked.

“I’m at Cid’s,” Echo snapped, rolling his eyes at the pert voice on the line. “I told you, it’s fine.”

The comm was silent for a moment, and you met Echo’s gaze with a small, compassionate smile. 

Understood. The ship is located in its usual docking bay, should anyone there require medical attention. 

A click and a beep signaled the disconnect, and the smirk on Echo’s face had you puzzled for a moment. 

“What?” you asked, unable to hold it back.

“‘S just karking annoying when he knows more than he should,” he grumbled, though his eyes were sparkling with amusement. He sighed, looking up at you as though he were fully realizing your softness, your lingering touches, and your blatant concern and admiration. He opened his mouth for a moment as though trying to decide what to say, then slowly closed it, regarding you evenly. You swallowed, suddenly wildly aware of every single muscle in your body, and tried to arrange your features into a neutral expression. 

“”What?” Now it was his turn to ask, a tiny smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he tilted his head at you. 

“What?” you echoed, eyes wide and innocent as you looked at him with the look of one accused. 

“What… uh… What are you… so concerned… about?” The smirk was fading into a slight insecurity of his own. You took a deep breath, cheeks flushed red as your heart continued to race. Something about the thrill of it all and the sudden vulnerability in this private room had you reeling, with long-restrained feelings brimming at the surface and threatening to spill over. 

“You,” you whispered, lowering your eyes and chewing on your thumb nail. “I care… about you.”

His own heart skipped a beat at your admission – something he had suspected, no – hoped for – yet felt entirely unworthy to believe. He rose to his feet, a cringe flashing across his face before he became still again, staring intently at your eyes. “You do?” he asked, voice husky and quiet now, disarmed entirely. 

His tone was soothing and inviting, and the thinly-veiled vulnerability was entirely irresistible. Buoyed by the adrenaline of the evening and the thrill of the situation before you, you took a step closer, lifting your other hand to rest on his chest. Leaning in slightly, you touched your forehead to his, smiling at his sharp inhale and the subsequent closing of his eyes that completely melted your heart. You were helplessly entranced, and you brushed your fingers along his jaw before resting them on the back of his shoulder as you pulled yourself close. 

Your lips met with a feather-light touch that sent sparks flying immediately. Your heart thrilled at the sensation, body exploding with euphoric tingles, and you pulled back quickly, keeping your foreheads together but remaining frozen in joyous disbelief otherwise. He let out a slow breath, as if soaking up every single second, then stepped back a few inches, opening his eyes to gaze at you in awe and disbelief and wonder and delight. 

“Sorry if that was… uh…” you began, but he shook his head immediately, curling his fingers gently under your chin and touching the pad of his thumb to your lips to silence the rest. 

“It wasn’t,” he said, eyes intent. “Unless… It was a mistake, or–”

“No no no,” you laughed, standing slightly straighter as he dropped his hand from your lips to your waist. “Why would it be a mistake?” He shrugged, casting his gaze off to the side with a sudden expression of sheepish disdain that you were wildly curious. Giving him a slight nudge, you pressed, “Echo?”

“I don’t know,” he grumbled, unwillingly meeting your eyes. “I just… didn’t think people saw me that way…” He fell silent, the magnitude of his words settling on your heart, heavy with compassion. You stepped back in, nestling yourself against his chest, and brushed your lips against his cheek as you whispered near his ear. 

“Let me show you how I see you.”

In an uncharacteristic burst of courage, you looped both arms around his neck, bringing your lips to his with ardent intentionality. He stiffened for a split second before relaxing into your embrace, sliding his own arm around your waist and digging the other into your hair at the base of your neck. You felt as though you could swoon as he held you so effortlessly, and you tilted your head as you moved your mouth against his, deepening the kiss with a whisper-soft sigh. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest as you rested a hand on it, feeling relieved that it matched your own frantic pulse rate. 

You kissed again and again, changing the angle, adding the tiny stroke of a tongue or the hungry tug of a lip. He seemed to grow before you, his presence expanding with an alluring mix of dumbfounded surprise that framed a strength, resolve, and passion that made your knees weak. His hands roved gently across your body, caressing you against him as his open--mouthed kisses grew messier. The sensation of his lips on yours, his taste filling your mind and sparkling with the sensation of his hands gliding along your skin… you had a fleeting concern that you may have died and gone to heaven. 

But the dreamy reverie was broken suddenly as he pulled back, breathing hard and sucking in air as though his life depended on it. He drew the back of one hand across his mouth, one last shuddering breath escaping before he settled into a quiet, blissful smile. 

“Didn’t think people saw you that way…” you scoffed in playful jest, shaking your head in utter disbelief. 

“Well, I’ve been somewhat convinced that it’s untrue,” he returned evenly, the suggestive smolder in his gaze sending a warmth blossoming between your legs. 

“Only somewhat?: you repeated with a grin. 

“Somewhat,” he answered, cupping your face and leaning in again.

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[renegade-skywalker]

Submission and Surrender

Summary:

“This is a gift,” Merit said softly against his lips, “In case we don’t make it, but also a promise of what comes after if we do.” Gale opened his eyes again then, his gaze soft but somber. “We will though, of course,” she amended just as Gale threaded his hand through her hair and drew her face even closer, resting his forehead against hers. “You know that, right?” He said nothing, though he didn’t have to, a world of warring worry and utter belief crossing his face as his gaze searched hers, in the end only reflecting endless adoration. “Are you ready?” Merit plans on showing Gale some much-needed love, only Gale keeps giving her a pleasantly difficult time about it. Set in Act 3, post-Sorcerous Sundries, Stormshore Tabernacle, and the Outer Planes scenes.

Word Count: 8, 664

Rating: E

~~~

“You look so handsome with your hair swept back like this,” Merit remarked, her voice soft as she carded his fringe away from his face, lightly grasping a twining brown and gray strand from Gale’s forehead around a delicate finger. He looked so charming dappled in sunlight like this, the evening sun peppering the sight of him as it peered through the lattice on the roof of Elfsong where they stood now. “But I especially like the pieces that fall into your eyeline.”

Gale blushed a pleasing shade of pink as his hands wound around her waist and drew Merit close. He looked down at her with heavy-lidded eyes, not yet asking where she was taking them after inviting him to leave their quarters for the evening. They’d taken their supper on the roof, a modest though welcome meal of warm bread, soft cheese, and meat that fell off the bone, washed down with a bottle of Elverquisst that coursed warmly through them both. Now that the sun was setting, it was about time they headed to their next destination, as per Merit’s vague instructions.

“I should be the one showering you in compliments,” he said whispersoft against her cheek, letting the warmth of his breath linger sweetly on her skin before pressing a gentle yet earnest kiss there. “I owe you so much already.”

After their conversation the day before and their venture to the Outer Planes, Gale had been all apologies and accolades, reminding Merit every waking moment that he didn’t deserve her or some other shade of the same sentiment. 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Merit argued. She draped both her arms atop his shoulders as she drew their faces close, looking him stern in the eye to show that she meant business, her gaze laced with a certain softness that hopefully conveyed she was no longer as cross as she’d been upon first leaving Sorcerous Sundries. “You are owed so much more than you’re willing to let yourself believe, godhood notwithstanding.”

Gale smiled as he drew their lips near again, brimming with herculean restraint as he refrained from actually kissing her though the desire to do so was clear in his warm brown eyes. The sunset limned the warmth of his gaze, his irises almost buttery and cinnamon spiced from this close a distance. Merit’s breath caught in her throat, truly relishing just how handsome Gale was. Even if she’d said so herself only moments ago, there were still so many stolen moments where the revelation caught her off-guard, taken aback by merely glimpsing him from some new undiscovered angle only to find him all the more captivating in her already lovestruck heart.

“Alright, alright, I surrender,” he said, his eyes flicking down to the plush of her lips, lingering there before returning her gaze again. His eyes steadied on hers in a way that made Merit go weak in the knees. “So, where is it do you think you’re taking me?”

He uttered his question with a playful air but also with one of utter affection. His initial dismissal of the city in favor of his cherished Waterdeep quickly made way for a quiet wonder that came over him when learning just which parts of Baldur’s Gate were ones Merit knew well and called home. His sincerity was sweet, and she felt guilty now if her intentions at all mislead him from that direction now… though she suspected she wouldn’t feel bad for long. And neither would he.

“A surprise,” she teased. “Though reserve your judgments for once we’re inside.”

Gale’s face scrunched into one of confusion, one brow furrowing with an unspoken question as Merit soaked in the sight of him, finding him endlessly adorable whenever he did this, too. 

“Inside?” he echoed, a baser meaning rising in his voice at the utterance of it that made Merit blush and stifle a laugh as she pleasantly slapped his arm in response. “Inside where, exactly?”

“A building,” she specified pointedly, prodding his chest with her index finger now. “With an interior. Hence, inside.”

Merit bit down on a smirk threatening to overtake her entire expression, knowing that as much as Gale was just being cheeky, which was a relief in its own right, he also wasn’t very far off…

“Can I trust you to close your eyes and follow my lead?” she asked. “Or do I need to resort to other means?”

As if trusting her to somehow spirit him to their destination then and there, or simply being a cocky sport, Gale closed his eyes and said, “Lead me wherever you wish, love. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

He was being over-dramatic for effect, she knew that, but there was a bit of truth in his statement too. And in light of it, Merit couldn’t help but place a gentle kiss on his unsuspecting lips anyway, pleased to see him abide by her seemingly nonsensical whims in spite of all they faced otherwise. 

“This is a gift,” Merit said softly against his lips, “In case we don’t make it, but also a promise of what comes after if we do.”

Gale opened his eyes again then, his gaze soft but somber. 

“We will though, of course,” she amended just as Gale threaded his hand through her hair and drew her face even closer, resting his forehead against hers. “You know that, right?”

He said nothing, though he didn’t have to, a world of warring worry and utter belief crossing his face as his gaze searched hers, in the end only reflecting endless adoration.

The inner anxiety that gripped at her wasn’t one of personal anguish but instead an existential one. As much as she believed in her heart that, somehow, they would make it out of this, there was another darker part of her that examined each of her waking moments and planted the notion that perhaps this was it, this would be the last nice thing she’d experience in her too-short life so she should savor its every facet, its every detail, its very essence. 

“Are you ready?” she asked again, her voice more timid than she intended.

As if reading her mind, and perhaps he was, Gale’s thumb stroked her cheekbone as if to steady her, his hand still buried in her hair as if comforting the fear away. 

“For anything,” he said. “Lead the way.”

Merit smiled, willing her worries to vanish and letting her plans for the evening fill her brimming mind with excitement instead. 

As if filling the silence to quiet his own anticipation, Gale, as usual, kept talking as they retreated from the roof of Elfsong and wove through its many tables until they reached the street, posing observation after observation about the decor, the clientele, and everything in between. But when they reached the main road, his every word turned to a soft-spoken question - How often did you come here? Is this where you’d go to market? How far is the bakery from the thoroughfare? - the back of his hand not-so-subtly brushing against hers as he poured all of his attention into her every answer, absently caressing her pinky with his forefinger then bringing his feathersoft touch to the crest of her palm, circling touch after tender touch there before finally threading his hand in hers.

Her heart swelled as she savored the warmth of his hand, his thumb stroking the soft spot at the base of her wrist as they walked. He was being so sweet, if not simply doing all he could to appear too preoccupied to further query about her proposed surprise, but even so the gesture was a welcome one.

Merit thought back to something Gale had said before Moonrise - If things were different, if we were home… - and while he’d been speaking of Waterdeep, Merit couldn’t help but imagine a similar scenario instead taking place here in Baldur’s Gate. What if they hadn’t met at the end of the world? What if they’d met without the looming threat of eternal doom on the horizon? It was a gentle dream but a sweet one, a world imagined in her mind’s eye that she hoped to carry into the evening, the wealth of their worries melting away until at least the next sunrise. Which she was determined they would live to see.

“Okay now I really want you to close your eyes,” Merit instructed as they traversed Wyrm’s Crossing, purposefully veering Gale towards Carm’s Garm as a means of temporary misdirection. “Can you do that for me?”

Gale narrowed his gaze at her, suspicious but flirtatiously so. His only answer was a kiss pressed to the back of her hand before obeying without another word. 

“Now, simply follow my voice,” she continued, leading him further down the avenue until they reached the far end of Sharess’ Caress, turning into the side alley before its more unmistakable sounds reached their ears and gave her away or gave Gale the wrong idea. 

With care, she guided Gale through the alley’s winding staircases and terraces until they arrived at the private entrance to Naoise’s Grotto-themed room, the very nymph’s personal key weighing heavy in Merit’s pocket as they approached. She slowly brought Gale to a halt and released him from her grasp, her hands suddenly too cold in his absence as she produced the key and placed it in the lock. She bit her lip as she took hold of one of Gale’s hands once more and eased him inside (laughing to herself at the word inside again as it rattled inside her head, thinking of Gale’s comment from earlier) waiting until he was poised within before closing the door.

“Alright,” she said, an air of timidity lacing her voice. “Here we are.”

Merit rounded on Gale now so she could gauge his reaction. As if anticipating her apprehension, Gale took his time abiding by her instruction and slowly opened his eyes. He blinked a couple of times before his eyes instinctively scanned the room, and it only took him a moment to recognize where they were. 

“Don’t worry, it’s just us,” Merit said, turning to face Gale now and walking backwards towards the bath on the far end of the room. “Naoise still owed me a favor for saving her life, and she’d heard how much I admired this room, so…”

Gale watched with calm affection as Merit nervously ran her hand along one of the nearby vines hanging from the awning beside her. She twirled a dew-cooled leaf between her fingers, examining its veins in the soft light of the bioluminescent lit room as she tried not to act so bashful about what it was exactly she was proposing. 

“Ah, and here I thought you were just about to reveal that you truly are a nymph in disguise,” Gale referenced the tiefling party back outside the Emerald Grove what felt like ages ago as he took step after deliberate step towards her, taking in the sights and smells of the space. Beside Merit stood the grotto the room was named after, its walls mimicking an overgrown tree as it housed a heavenly pond as if nestled between its palm-like limbs, and she realized the room itself wasn’t unlike the grove, nor a far cry from their first campstead - if not at least a highly idealized version of it. 

“You’ve caught me,” Merit said as Gale neared. He took her hands in his and he yet again raised one hand to his mouth, this time turning it over so he could press a kiss to the inside of Merit's palm. 

“What’s all this about,” he asked, his voice soft. His eyes betrayed a certain sheepishness that made her blush all over, even though Gale was already blushing slightly despite his attempts at appearing cavalier. 

“Just a taste of home, somewhat,” Merit guided Gale closer to the bath, hiding her smile when she saw his gaze finally tear away from hers to fall on the array of oils and perfumes placed at the water’s side. “I overheard your conversation with Shadowheart at the Wavemother’s Temple, so when I spotted these imported bath oils, I thought I might indulge you.”

“Indulge indeed,” Gale nearly exhaled, reaching down to grasp a cerulean sea glass bottle and marvel at the label. “This one happens to be my favorite, sandalwood and sea salt. However, this -” Gale plucked another bottle from the display and held it up to Merit as if comparing her to its contents. It was a blush-colored sea glass jar with a blooming topper, its label a deep scarlet. “This one reminds me of you.”

“How so?” Merit asked as Gale opened the lid and placed it under her nose.

Rosewater. A shiver ran down her spine at the recognition, as well as the recollection that followed: their first time channeling the Weave together. Merit had been overcome with the heady floral scent, relishing in its comfort as she looked at Gale and for the first time imagined what it might be like to kiss him.

“When I first saw your face through that portal,” he began, his voice hitching in the back of his throat as he conjured the memory, “I thought I was perhaps foolishly staring at the sun, doomed as I already was, but then I thought no , a rose, I was sure. Perhaps it was the auburn of your hair or the copper of your skin, the fiery amber of your eyes-” Gale trailed off as he relinquished the bottle to Merit and tucked a thumb and forefinger beneath her chin, lifting her face ever so slightly to meet his tender gaze. “Since then, roses have always reminded me of you.”

She felt another nudge then, Gale’s tadpole reaching out to hers. Merit searched his eyes for a moment before accepting, an image of herself enveloped in the glitter of the Weave at the edge of their beachside camp entering her mind’s eye as if it were a memory of her own, an undeniable fondness flooding her at the thought, a fondness that she instantly recognized as Gale’s. Fondness for her.

“I didn’t realize that was you,” she admitted, her face growing hot as an easy smile overcame her, melting beneath Gale’s touch, “I sensed it too, y’know, the rosewater. It smelled almost exactly like this.”

Gale’s coloring deepened almost as red as the bottle’s ornate label.

“I didn’t know you could,” he confessed. “But I’m glad for it. I always prided myself on my command of the Weave, even after suffering from my affliction, but perhaps you’d already bewitched me much earlier than I realized.”

“Another title to add to my roster,” Merit laughed a hollow laugh, “A bard, a poet, a baker, a fencer, a nymph, and now also a witch.”

“And a most talented witch at that,” Gale echoed, his lips inching towards hers. “For you have bewitched me, body and soul.”

Merit kissed him before he could finish uttering the word soul , the sentiment of it lingering in their shared breath as she parted her lips against his and drank all of Gale in. She couldn’t help but trace his tongue with her own, savoring the taste of him and sighing into their kiss before reluctantly pulling away, lightly sucking on his bottom lip as she did so. Gale trailed after her mouth even as she retreated, unwilling to part even though he eventually acquiesced. 

“And I’m yours,” Merit rejoined, “I don’t want you to forget that. Which is also, not-so-coincidentally, why I’ve brought you here.”

“And I have not forgotten,” Gale said with a small smile. “This is a wonderful surprise, and a welcome reminder of home.”

“Don’t think that’s all I have planned though,” Merit added, plucking the other bottle from Gale’s hand before replacing both that one and the rose oil decanter by the bathside again. “This is just the beginning.”

“You know I’ve yearned for a proper bath since the Nautiloid,” Gale admitted with a sigh. “This gesture alone is enough indeed.”

“Good,” Merit said, pressing a fingertip to Gale’s nose, eliciting a surprise as she added, “Now get undressed and get inside. I’ll follow you soon after, I just don’t want you to get any ideas before we’re beneath the water.”

As much as Merit wanted to undress Gale herself - or better yet, allow him to undress her as he clearly wanted to, judging by the keen look in his eye - she knew it would only sidetrack them from her original intentions. They would get to that eventually, of course, but she also knew her wizard too well. He would only want to do whatever it took to please her, ignoring her pleas to service him instead. Which happened to be the entire reason she brought him here. 

“If you say so,” Gale relented. He sighed, shoulders slumping as he reached a hand after her already retreating body. 

Merit bit back a smile as she evaded his ever-welcome grasp and sidestepped to the other side of the room to ready it, lighting a few scented candles and examining herself in the mirror before she got undressed and tied her half-braided hair up in a lazy bun. She peered around the corner to make sure Gale had followed her instruction before returning and slipping into the water beside him when he wasn’t looking.

Gale spun around, startled to find Merit beside him again before his expression quickly turned to one of warm relief. His hands reached for her as he smiled a self-indulgent smile, not unlike the one he’d succumbed to at her earnest insistence that he was already all she needed, the man that he was, whilst floating in the Outer Planes before promising that she would always be enough for him. His grasp soon slipped around her waist and pulled her close, her naked skin saccharine and slick against his beneath the water as he brought them hip-to-hip. 

“I must admit that a majority of my bath-related fantasies while roadside did not often involve you as well, though it is an amendment I find myself quite in favor of.”

Merit smiled against him, incapable of not letting her body melt against his even if she had other items of import on her agenda. 

“So what did your fantasies actually entail, pray tell?” she asked as she snaked her hands over his broad shoulders, pleased to feel the breadth of him beneath her fingers. 

“Truthfully?” Gale regaled with a casual air as he planted a kiss beneath her ear, where the upturn of her jaw met the slope of her neck. “A good hair-wash, mostly.”

He was being utterly honest, his words erudite and unadorned, though his lips had other intentions as he continued to plant drawn out kisses along her neck, his graze now extending to Merit’s bare shoulders. A pleasant shiver coursed through her at the feel of him there, part of her succumbing to his touch and her plans along with it. Merit sighed as she surrendered to the wonder that was Gale’s mouth against her skin. She closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of complete submission, yielding to the feel of him and her eternal want to be this close to him if not closer. Before she completely lost herself, Merit gently nudged herself out of Gale’s grasp.

“I can help with that,” she said as a peace offering, kissing him on the temple for good measure before eventually wading back toward the bath’s edge, retrieving a bar of conditioning soap she’d also obtained from the same vendor. “Allow me.”

Gale’s eyes fluttered to her exposed chest before she returned with lathered hands, watching him reprimandingly as she approached. Smiling bashfully and caught red-handed, Gale sunk briefly under the water until he was submerged only up to his eyes, as if avoiding her judging gaze before gingerly wetting his hair and reemerging again. 

Merit had to bite back a shuddered sigh as she watched him, the damp sight of Gale emerging from the water setting her insides ablaze in a way that she coursed with so much unbidden desire that she almost had a mind to abandon her original plan and have him right then and there. Calling upon the deepest of spiritual reserves, Merit heralded an inner strength not unlike a Paladin clinging to their sworn oath as she instead reached for Gale’s glistening hair and began to work her fingers, tendersoft, through his tresses.

Gale instantly softened beneath her touch, his eyes rolling back unwittingly as he let out a sigh rich with utter relief. 

Merit watched his expression carefully as she massaged his scalp, careful to be thorough but also not too rough, gauging her success by judging the look on his face. She grew even warmer as she watched him, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones in quiet rapture as he exhaled another involuntary sigh, his hands reaching for her again beneath the water. Merit let him come in contact with her bare waist, her thigh, her stomach, but only briefly, dancing just out of reach of his questing fingers before wading behind him and inviting Gale to sink further into her lap. Gale needed no further convincing. He melted instantly against her chest as she gently guided them towards the far side of the bath, resting her own back against the transplanted tree in the corner, its canopy of myriad jeweled leaves glittering above them.

“How’s that feel?” she asked in a gentle half-whisper.

An indecipherable sound of approval emitted from Gale’s throat as he let out a half-sigh, half-groan, a lazy smile overcoming his features. 

“I’ll take that to mean good,” Merit said, pressing a kiss to his floating shoulder. “Or at least serviceable.”

She began to rinse out his hair just as Gale slowly opened his eyes to look longingly up at her.

“No one’s ever done that for me before,” he said, weaving a hand behind him to wind up the back of her neck, as if to bring her face close to his. But instead of doing so, he paused, his grip gentle as his fingers caressed the nape of her neck, his eyes fixed on hers.

Merit kissed his forehead now, their faces inverse as Gale’s hair remained submerged in the water, her fingers still softly combing through his tresses as she worked the soap out. 

“I’m not even nearly finished yet,” she promised. “Now please hold still.”

Gale’s steady gaze nearly stilled her again, another pleasant shiver running down her spine at the sight of him and the rejoining pang that echoed through her, only wanting him more. With a valiant effort, Merit slipped out from beneath Gale’s reclining, floating, body and retreated to the far side of the bath again, this time bringing the entire tray along with her to save her the trip. Along with the bath provisions were other provisions as well, meaning, a plate of ripened fruit and another bottle of wine. 

Saving the wine for later, Merit coated her hands with the oil Gale had picked out earlier, sandalwood and sea salt. She relished in its green, resinous scent before lightly running her fingers through Gale’s hair again, conditioning the ends before she urged his head out of the water, working her careful hands down the planes of his back. 

“Now what’s this?” Gale asked over his shoulder as Merit began kneading the knots in the wrought muscle of his back with careful consideration. It was more intimate being this close, this quiet, exposed but lovingly so, not ogling but coexisting while wading in the calm of the water, an indulgent comfort they were rarely afforded. If ever. 

“Hush,” Merit reprimanded with a loving air. “I’m busy.”

Merit could imagine the look of playful suspicion that crossed Gale’s features at her curt response, always up for a polite bit of banter, but she bit her lip with silent satisfaction as she felt Gale yet again melt beneath her touch. He sighed as Merit worked the heels of her palms into his back, alternating her careful caresses with more serious though considerate digging, relishing in the release of his muscles slowly softening beneath her hands like a well-kneaded dough.

“Gods, that feels wonderful,” Gale eventually betrayed with a pleasurable groan that set Merit’s insides on fire in the best way possible, the core of her mounting with want. “Remind me again what I did to deserve this?”

At this, Merit truly paused. Of their own accord, the fingers on Merit’s left hand twitched against Gale’s skin more than her right, urging him to turn leftwards towards her. Without words, Gale’s hands slipped around her waist again and held her close, awaiting her response as her hands remained poised above his shoulders, as if ready to keep kneading the pain away. 

“You didn’t need to do anything,” she revealed in a harrowed whisper, her breath catching in her throat at the earnest sight of him as his wide eyes met hers.

Gale’s eyes searched hers, as if waiting for a catch. But when none came, he caught her parted lips with his, humming pleasantly into a kiss that made Merit nearly dissolve against him, her every limb suddenly weightless as Gale urged her closer. One of his hands raked at the small of her back while the other snaked up it, tracing an unseen pattern against her spine as Merit buried her fingers in his wet hair. Gale sighed as he parted her legs with his knee beneath the water, parting his lips against hers in kind and tracing her tongue carefully with his in a way that made Merit shiver. 

She whimpered against him, giving into Gale and his kiss. She’d already abandoned all thought or plan before she sensed Gale’s hungry want against her thigh, hot and insistent as he dug his hips against hers. Merit carefully withdrew one of her hands from the depths of Gale’s hair and reached down. She took her time gently caressing Gale’s chest as her hand descended, appreciating the shape of him as she made her way down, down, down, before she wrapped her delicate fingers around the hardness of him as they kissed. His desire intensified the moment she made contact, taking her time before deliberately working the length of him, slow at first then finding a rhythm that made Gale pant deliciously into their continued kissing in a way that made her knees want to buckle. 

Gale held her more tightly now, his nails digging into her skin - forceful enough to leave crescent-shaped marks where he held her but not enough for it to hurt - breathing heavily against her as he tempered his appetite and allowed Merit to keep going. Merit’s fingers slid over the impressive breadth of him, her mind wandering as she continued, imagining the whole of him inside her again, fondly recalling the sublime sensation from the other day as if it were already a lifetime ago. Judging by how much she wanted him now, it might as well have been. 

“You must know how badly I want you,” Gale exhaled in a harrowed whisper against her mouth, kissing her again as soon as the words were uttered. He urged Merit’s legs to wrap around his waist though her hand remained insistent at the ever-hardening length of him.

“But this was supposed to be about you,” Merit uttered, relinquishing all resolve into his next rapturous kiss. 

Gale retracted one hand from her back to take hold of her ardent touch, silently persuading Merit to release her hold on him and for her to give in to their shared impulse. Powerless to resist, Merit weakly obliged, gasping as she felt the hot cusp of his desire against her, asking for entry. All it took was another roll of her hips against him and Merit welcomed Gale inside her, the eager tip first, warm and wanting, before the welcome whole of him, another unbidden gasp escaping her throat at the instant ecstasy of it. 

He looked as if he might say something, something along the lines of a vaguely cocky I told you so, but instead Gale gave way to her completely, his eyes glazing over and his expression going nearly slack as he entered her so deeply and so completely that Merit saw stars. She only held Gale more tightly to her as he slowly but hungrily thrust himself inside her, over and over again, pressing kiss after ravenous kiss to her wanting mouth as she accepted him deeper and deeper.

“You feel absolutely divine,” Gale gasped. He fell out of her kiss and groaned against her neck, running his lips along the underside of her jaw as he moved his hips against hers, the feel of him inside her both sweet and devastating in its all-eclipsing ecstasy. Merit could only oblige and ride her body’s inherent craving for more even as she hungrily accepted the pulsating whole of him again and again.

Whatever heaven Merit had briefly retreated to earlier when Gale kissed her neck, she revisited suddenly now, her eyes rolling back at the feel of him as his lips grazed her skin and his keening desire pleased the velvet core of her in a way that she almost thought wasn’t possible. Perhaps it was the place, perhaps it was the time, or perhaps it was the mounting threat of their potential demise that made the feel of him so especially sweet inside her. It was almost syrupy, her desire mingling with his in a way that made Gale’s every insistence inside her slick and yearning. 

Merit ran her hands along Gale’s chest, her fingers raking along the damp warmth of his skin as she eased his passage, relinquishing more of herself to his adamant longing, her ache matching his own as he pressed himself deeply within her again and again. Hungry for more of him, and as honeyed as his constellation of kisses were draped across her neck, her shoulders, her collarbone, her chest, Merit couldn’t help but bring Gale’s hungry lips back to hers, capturing him in yet another covetous kiss as she uttered, “I love kissing you while you’re inside me.”

At the sound of her confession, Gale gave himself up completely, surrendering entirely to Merit as he ceded to her all-encompassing kiss, his tongue probing hers much in the way the rest of him did. Merit whimpered against his mouth, relishing in the saccharine feeling of Gale urging up and inside of her, her nerves supple and pliant against the pleasing hardness of him.

She wanted to promise again how this was supposed to be all about him, her intention only to bring him pleasure in all the ways she had power to and nothing else. And yet she stood helpless in the wake of his never-ending want for her, her longing just as strong as his as she savored the feel of him carving his endless longing at her crux, her nerves edging over the border of covetous need and careening carelessly into craving indulgence.

“Gale, I’m so-” Merit gasped before her inevitable realization could truly come to fruition.

But Gale only upped his pace, his need building just as hers did. 

“You’re too good to me,” she exhaled against him before letting out a low moan, her inner pleasure mounting precariously in a way that was both welcome and overwhelming. “Let me return the favor. Please.”

But Gale only quieted her with another kiss, his tongue insistent against hers in a way that sundered her completely. 

“Gale-” she breathed, his name the very air on her gasping tongue. “Gale.”

She had no plea other than to repeat his name, replacing all thought other than that of the profound bliss rising inside her, threatening to consume her deliciously whole.

“Gale,” Merit uttered again as Gale pulled away, his eyes flashing enticingly with a satisfied ferality at the sound of it. Gale first planted a hungry kiss against the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, working his ravenous way towards her ear.

“I love it when you say my name,” his voice rumbled against her skin as he began to nibble at her earlobe, biting only hard enough for Merit to melt against him in an instant. As much as she loved kissing him, he knew she loved this too, her body turning to honey against him as her hands clawed at his back and raked through his hair as she relished in the sensation. 

But this was about him, she reminded herself again. Merit bit down on a devious smile when she realized she had yet another tool in her ever-growing arsenal.

“Gale,” she panted with a lilting breath, pleased to feel him buck into her almost erratically at the sound of it before saying his name again. “Gale.”

Merit was careful to utter his name against the shell of his ear, her lips and her breath lightly grazing his skin as she said it. In response, Gale emitted what she could only describe as a satisfied growl against her neck, the gravely vibrato of his voice satisfying some yet unknown part of her she now wanted to explore in its entirety.

“You’ve no idea what you’re doing to me,” Gale sighed against her mouth, drawing her into yet another starved kiss. Merit smiled into his embrace, a semblance of pleasurable pride washing over her even as she gave in to the rest of him, unable to deny herself this.

As if reading her mind with intent to spoil her victory, one of Gale’s hands lowered to join his adamant urging, his fingers circling over her clit with a soft but deliberate motion that elicited an impassioned whimper to escape her throat. It made Merit only melt against him further, giving way to the euphoric feel of him. She wanted to pull on the reins, she wanted to wait. She yearned to feel the warmth of Gale’s culminating desire pool within her, but she was already teeming with a burgeoning climax of her own that was ever mounting and inescapable. And before she knew it, her every nerve gave way to utter elation, the feel of it lapping over her in wave after inescapable wave.

Gale slowed, but only just so, insisting his keening want inside Merit’s tightening, slickening center until he, too, shuddered and succumbed to the sweet sensation of her, his warm yearning filling her just as he pulled out and placed a careful kiss to the corner of her mouth, the hollow of her cheek, and then the crest of her cheekbone before wilting completely, out of breath against her chest as their bodies relaxed against the other’s in the warmth of the water.

Merit guided Gale’s mouth back to hers in the quiet aftermath, her heart still racing, only wanting to drink him in after submitting to his behest. It was as much for him as it was for her, though as always, it was only the fall after the peak of her rising desire that Gale would find satisfaction. And that simply would not do.

But other than that, Merit had no complaints, an easy smile overcoming her as she eased back into the weight of the moment and kissed him in earnest.

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” she admonished as she kissed him yet again, his mouth plush and pliant against hers. 

“Then what was?”

Merit couldn’t tell if Gale was simply being cheeky or if he truly didn’t know, her fears lying with the latter.

The mere look of him staring back at her was enough to send Merit wanting again, and so much so that instead of answering, Merit had to gently remove herself from the bath and from Gale’s lovingly reaching hands. Instead she readied herself with the remainder of her plan, hoping her next idea would absolve her of the endless desire seeking to possess her mind and body. Not that desire wasn’t key to this entire operation, instead relying on her personal restraint from its devious appetites which she had already fallen victim to and vowed not to fall for again lest it lead her astray. It was a tightrope, really, a delicate balance she needed to hold in order to fulfill Gale’s every unvoiced desire while also denying her own. At least for the moment. 

She knelt by the bathside now, anointing her hands with oil once more before beckoning Gale to join her. He looked delightfully flushed as he obliged, wading towards her but remaining in the bath. He crossed his arms along the water’s edge and looked up at her longingly through the lush dampness of eyelashes, a lock of his still-wet hair falling into his eyeline in a way that made Merit blush in kind. Only a moment had passed and her insides were already working tirelessly to tame the quiet rise of carnal hunger at the sight of him.

Without speaking, Merit reached for one of Gale’s hands and began working the oil into his glistening skin. She kneaded the soft plush of his palms and worked her fingers through the muscle at the base of his wrist, working her way up his forearm before silently asking that he surrender his other arm to her as well.

“You’re going to have to get out of the water for the next part,” she said, gracing his knuckles with a kiss. 

Gale didn’t obey, instead reaching for the rose red bottle and placing some of its contents on his own hands before gently caressing her thigh, placing a kiss atop her knee as his eyes met hers in silent question. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, her voice escaping her throat in a hushed half-whisper. She gasped as Gale placed another hand along her other thigh, slowly working the oil into her skin before he paused, a hand on either knee as he lightly tried to part them before him, his eyes alight with a wanton appetite Merit was beginning to know all too well.

Merit’s shoulders slumped in momentary surrender, her heart running somersaults within her ribcage as Gale’s hands massaged the inside of her kneeling thighs, working his hands along the tender skin there. She allowed him this, pleased to see his undoubted love and need for her reflected in his gaze, but stopped him once he raised himself from the water, his hands drawing precariously close to the sweet spot between her legs.

“You’re going to have to stop right there,” Merit said, her voice like silk. She retreated only an inch out of his grasp. “This was supposed to be about bringing you pleasure.”

Gale only followed her, his eyes glancing down at her enticingly before uttering so sweetly, “What if pleasuring you is what brings me pleasure?”

A stray hand crept further up her inner thigh. Merit let it happen, sighing as she gave into his delicately eager touch, his fingers running over her with tempered zeal. 

Merit eased herself against his hand, and despite her mounting pleasure said, “What if the same goes for me but you haven’t given me the opportunity to find out yet?”

Gale paused but he didn’t stop, his eyes glancing down at his intrepid fingers as he considered her words though clearly did not wish to desist.

“Would you be so cruel as to deprive me of that?” Merit asked, her voice sweet but firm. 

His touch circled over her as he afforded the thought credence, eventually pulling away though his hand did grip her thigh with controlled craving, placating himself as he finally rose from the water by sowing a tender kiss on her exposed shoulder.

“I suppose it’s only fair,” he said, draping more kisses up her neck. 

“Trust me,” Merit promised as he finally brought his mouth to hers again. “You deserve this.”

“If you say so.”

Merit could have sworn she spied a glint of uncertainty in Gale’s gaze as she pulled away, his posture slumping as she slipped out of his grip and grabbed the tray of wine and fruit. Merit curled a tempting finger at Gale as she walked slowly backwards into the other part of the grotto towards the bed, placing the tray on a nearby table and pouring the wine as Gale eventually followed.

“We could eat first, or we could-” Merit said, a glass in either hand, but before she could finish speaking, Gale swept her up in a kiss that enraptured her entirely, her knees going weak as he let out a hungry whimper against her mouth. One hand pressed to the small of her back, pulling Merit closer, as Gale’s other hand tenderly cupped her breast, running a thumb over the crest of her until she whimpered against him in kind. Merit gave in again, for a moment, before regrettably pulling away.

“Not right now,” she said, an uncontrollable smile possessing her mouth as she did so. “Much as it would please me to say otherwise.”

Gale bit down on a blossoming smirk and brought her closer, this time plucking one of the wine glasses from her hand. 

“Are you sure?” he teased, taking a sip of wine and placing it down again before threatening to overcome Merit with another valiant effort to sweep her off her feet. “There are still so many things I want to show you, so many ways to show love.”

At this proposal, Gale tucked a thumb and forefinger beneath her chin and brought her mouth to his, placing the most innocent, earnest kiss to her lips. She hummed into his unspoken plea, knowing in her heart of hearts that if she could only do one thing for her remaining days it would be to kiss Gale endlessly. But at this rate, she’d never get anything done…

Merit tried to pry herself from his insistent grip, finding it difficult since she truly wanted him to continue, curious to see where he’d go and to what lengths he would traverse to further please her. But that was the entire reason she brought him here. As flattering as it was, she knew it was borne of some deeper insecurity she had no hope of remedying other than returning the effort and showering him with the same endless adoration he constantly bestowed upon her. 

“Do you not trust me?” she asked, her question both earnest yet playful. 

She was trying to be coy but also convincing, though unfortunately her every effort worked against her. Instead of relenting, Gale’s hands reached for her once more as he descended onto the side of the bed, pleading for her to join him. He pleaded wordlessly, his dark eyes heavy-lidded and luminescent as his irises reflected the warmth of the room in his gaze, his touch adoring and yielding if not endearingly yearning, his excitement palpable as Merit took in the sight of him and was suddenly struck with another idea. 

“I won’t warn you again,” Merit said as she twisted out of his hunting hands. “Now, lean back.”

Gale reclined onto the mattress, propping himself up on the backs of his elbows as he watched her. His countenance was delightfully red, still warm from the bath and running hot with want for her, as if the hardening length between his legs wasn’t enough of an indication. Gale bit his lip as Merit crawled atop him, her hands slow and questing as she adjusted his position and admired his every feature - the waves of his damp hair, his expectant expression, his slightly parted lips and the quick of his breath, the breadth of his chest and the planes of his stomach, the veins in his arms and the simple way his wrists wrought into the delicious shape of his hands, fingers clutching the sheets as he tamed his need to touch her. 

Merit’s eyes met Gale’s, and with a wordless request her tadpole reached out and linked with his. Within the span of a moment, Gale saw everything Merit did, felt everything she felt, her every adoring observation ringing with both desire and devotion. And with their minds still linked, Merit placed kiss after deliberate kiss on every part of him, draping her lips over his shoulders, his chest, his upper thigh, taking special care to run the soft pad of her thumb over her favorite birthmark of his kept hidden there, as she then descended off the side of the bed and onto her knees. Merit parted his legs ever so much, allowing just enough room for her to kneel between them. And then, with a hand planted on either thigh, Merit turned her gaze to Gale.

“Now, stay there,” she instructed before whispering, “Non movere.”

A soft, shuddering wave washed over him and Gale was transfixed to the bed, but only just so. Merit couldn’t fathom harnessing enough concentration to command the spell properly, nor was she entirely comfortable doing so beyond getting her playful point across. Surprise flashed in Gale’s eyes before he was instead overcome with overwhelming need, the length of him growing harder at the sight of Merit on her knees before him, her hands planted at the base of his thighs. Merit followed his gaze as it drifted downward, the desire clear in his eyes even if he wouldn’t voice as much. One day, he would voice his every want to her freely, unafraid of his own desires. But for now, she had no trouble easing them out of him, bit by bit.

Still psychically connected, a tremor of expectant ecstasy coursing through both their minds, Merit was granted with an image and a thought - an image and a thought she immediately made true. Her hands remained firm atop his legs even if Gale no longer needed to be pinned down and she ran each of her thumbs back and forth over the sensitive skin that swathed his inner thighs, a pleasant shiver coursing through him as Merit then made him tremble even more as she carefully licked the length of him from base to tip, her eyes never leaving his. With her gaze steady, she brushed her lips across his apex like a lilting kiss, the taste of it hot on her tongue as she slowly eased the rest of him into her mouth. 

She couldn’t swallow him whole, but she guided what she could of his hardness down her throat, thrumming with want, while she looked longingly up at him through the thick of her eyelashes. His skin tasted sweet here, more tender but piquant as she swirled the length of him around her mouth. She wanted to savor the taste of him but also his expression, watching various states of bliss cross Gale’s face as she massaged the length of him in and out of her mouth, occasionally licking her lips and teasing the tip of him with her kiss and her tongue before going back in for the sumptuous plunge.

It wasn’t long before she felt him grow impossibly hard, the whole of him even more difficult to keep housed in her mouth even if she longed to, trying to fit the entirety of his desire inside her. Just as she felt him tense beneath her, white-knuckled against the sheets, Merit slowed. Gale’s eyes went wide in anguish, wanting to buck himself back into her mouth but finding himself unable to move. Merit kept her eyes on him, aroused by the desperation coloring his features, his face flushed and beautiful as she instead ran her tongue along the length of him once more, taking her time. 

You don’t need to be afraid with me, Merit communicated wordlessly. I want this too. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. 

Gale’s eyes steadied on hers again, his breathing haggard as the spell eased, succumbing to her invitation. With another flash of thought, Merit saw Gale’s desire in her mind’s eye as he began to slowly gyrate his hips up and into her welcoming mouth. She accommodated his every urgent thrust, harboring his every need and allowing it safe passage. A languid relief flooded him as he finally gave in to his baser desires, allowing himself to be selfish for once. Merit hummed against his every hungry motion, pleased to feel his imminent climax tempting her fervent tongue. 

Completely free of the spell now, Gale rose from his elbows, reaching for her as he combed loose locks of hair from her face, watching her continue to please him with her mouth, her lips, her tongue, his hand gently but firmly telling her exactly where he wanted her to go, how deeply he wanted to feel her, and just how much.

This, she thought rapturously. This is what I want from you. Tell me what to do, what you want. Tell me everything. Anything for you.

But was that selfish, too? Or better yet, did it matter? Wasn’t that all part of being human? Forever messy and complicated, somehow both sweet and selfish, forever insatiable and aching?

Gale stiffened beneath her, the length of him hot and quivering against the soft embrace of her lips, her mouth, her tongue; trembling, poised inside her before he spilled completely, the warmth of his want filling her mouth so long as she kept him there, eyeing him up from beneath her lashes as she licked back and swallowed every last bit of him. Out of breath, Gale collapsed against the bed, running a hand through his mussed hair as he smiled bashfully up at the ceiling. Merit wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand and finally joined him, tucking her body comfortably against his.

She laid a lazy hand on his sternum, enraptured by the sensation of his chest heaving beneath her touch. Their eyes met again, but this time Gale melted completely at the sight of her, pulling her to him in a breathless kiss. 

“I didn’t realize I was denying you such… pleasure,” Gale said, searching for the right word before landing on one that managed to describe them both. “It seems we do, in fact, share that in common.”

“I told you so,” Merit pressed a kiss to his brow, gently nuzzling her nose against the warmth of his temple. “How do you feel?”

Gale was still panting slightly as his eyes searched Merit’s face, his gaze filled with absolute adoration. 

“Utterly spent, and completely in love with you.”

There was so much more Merit wanted to do for him. Smaller things, like bringing tea into his study, or poring over a book together by the fire, admiring the sun rise as they while away a lazy morning, watch the day turn to noon and then to night without ever leaving their bed. But she also thought of the book Gale shared their first night together, hoping against hope that there would be a thousand more nights they might share together, learning how best to love one another.

“There’s so much more I want to show you,” she whispered against his cheek. “Just as much as you want to show me. I want to see it all, feel it all. With you.”

Gale panted into the warmth of a smile as he brought her face close to his, weaving a hand through her hair. 

“As do I,” he sighed, kissing her gently as his hand roamed from her hair, to her cheek, to her shoulder, before eventually resting against her waist. “I already have a few more ideas.”

Gale brushed his nose against hers, savoring the warmth of their closeness. Merit smiled before kissing him again, just as she could keep kissing him forever.

“Tell me everything,” she whispered. “I don’t know how much time we have, but we at least have all night.”

[lonelycowgirls]

Been There All Along

Hellooooo.

She's here and she's beautiful. Harry and Stella are complex characters because humans generally tend to be. So, keep that in mind when reading. I left my desk last night and found it hard to accept that these two people don't actually exist. Ya girl's a little too ✨invested✨ in her made-up people.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this. She's a long one, so get a nice hot drink and settle in.

Please like, reblog and follow if you enjoy it!

My asks are also open for feedback and ideas to how this universe can continue.

I give you... Part 2.

Nel xo

~

Where Harry goes on a lovely Sunday stroll with an old friend and things get reminiscent.

Read Part One here.

Warnings: angst | swearing | mentions of blood

Word count: 4.1k

Harry took a deep breath in as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight outside his London home. Through the busy Saturday traffic he could just about hear the birds chirping. He loved days like that, where the sky was wall-to-wall blue, where the air was chilly but comfortable if you warmed up and chased the sun's rays. He pulled the front door shut and trotted down the three steps that led to the pavement below. The terraced South Kensington abode he shared with Stella was stifling him. So, when Ellis texted to say she was in town for work, he'd jumped at her offer of a cup of coffee and a stroll.

He'd left Stella and the cats catching up on the previous night's episode of Love Island. She was due for an evening shift that night so she just wanted to chill after making a Sunday roast for the two of them. They'd had a long few nights talking things through and making up for lost time. There was rather a lot that they needed to think about and a lot of things they both needed to consider, they'd realised.

He pulled his sunglasses down from where they'd been rested atop his head and set off in the direction of the tube station. He kept his black scarf wrapped over his mouth and chin, for warmth and in the hopes of harbouring some anonymity for as long as possible. He could usually get away with it - it had been over a decade and both he and Stella had gotten very good at sneaking around so as not to be noticed, but it was always a challenge.

Walking along the pavement, he noticed the woman in front of him and marvelled at her wonderful shoe choice. Knee-high boots of dark green snakeskin. She looked great in her dark brown suede coat with its marabou feather trim. Of course, he couldn't just stop and tell her that he liked her outfit, but in that moment he really wished he could. He took a step off the pavement edge and overtook her, turning his head to nod in acknowledgement, being sure not to linger too long.

As he approached the station he began to get slightly anxious as he saw the large crowds funnelling in and out of the station. He questioned why he'd recommended that he and Ellis should meet there a little over half an hour before. He kept his head down and adjusted his tote over his shoulder.

"Hey, stranger." He heard Ellis before she squeezed his arm through his big puffer jacket. She said it close to him and pulled him into a hug quickly. She knew to be discreet so as not to draw any unnecessary attention. He bent slightly to bring her close for a quick squish before letting go with a smile.

"So good to see you, mate," he responded. "Love the hat." He said, tugging the green woollen brim of it over her eyes in jest. She laughed and stepped back to start walking.

"Thanks, dickhead," She replied. "Come on then, show me where you get your pretentious non-fat, no-foam, sugar-free latte's, Mr Hollywood."

"Oh, God you sound like Stella." He grumbled, still with a smirk as he led the way to Florence's Patisserie. They did the best lemon shortbreads, he made a mental note to remember to grab one for Stella.

"I'm only pulling your leg. We have much to discuss though." She looked at him with a knowing, mischievous glint in her eye. Ellis was always the 'wise' one of their friendship group. Always the one to oversee drama and try to distil it. She and Stella had always gotten along, since school, but she'd always been closer to Harry.

It was only a five-minute walk from the station to the café and Harry was glad of it as he'd started hearing whispers from the pedestrians flocking the streets.

"It never gets any less weird, does it." Ellis said rhetorically, as she glanced at a group of girls with their camera phones pointed at the pair. Harry gave her a tight-lipped smile. It definitely didn't bother him as much as it used to. It only really became a burden to him when his friends began to feel uncomfortable being around him. It terrified him to think that he could have lost crucial friendships in the past because of it. People that could have been a big part of his life had he not been famous. It made him that much more thankful for his blonde friend of over a decade, and the feeling warmed his belly.

The familiar pretty millennial pink writing quickly became visible in the distance and Harry sped up, seeing the end in sight. He held open the door for Ellis to step through and followed her, asking what she fancied.

"They do every alternative milk you could think of, if that's something you're into now?" Ellis gave him a look.

"Just good old cows milk will do for me, lad." He nodded and stepped up to order.

"Can I have a triple shot flat white, please? And a," he motioned for Ellis to order.

"Just a regular vanilla latte, please," She said, smiling. "Oh, and one of your delicious-looking pan-au-chocolat's as well, please." She thanked Harry for paying and they moved to the end of the counter to wait. Harry asked her about what she was doing for work in London while adding a sugar sachet to his coffee. They were halfway up the road when Harry stopped.

"Shit, I forgot about Stella."

"What?"

"I forgot to get her anything," Ellis clutched her paper cup for warmth. "Wait here for a sec." He rushed back in the direction of the shop but slowed when he heard a camera shutter. He looked to the side and spotted a paparazzo getting out of a car with a huge camera hanging around his neck. He inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring and turning back to hurry to pull Ellis across the road.

"Never-fucking-mind."

"Bloody hell, Harry how do you keep living like this?"

"Right, so tell me the story. I've heard parts of it from Stell, but I always like to get both sides." Harry sighed and took a sip from his coffee.

"What's Stell's side?" He side-eyed Ellis through his sunglasses, genuinely curious. Ellis side-eyed him right back.

"I'm sure what she's told me is what she's told you," they continued on towards the Heath and Harry swung the rickety old wooden gate open for Ellis to walk ahead. He took another sip of coffee and looked in front of him at the expanse of grassy hills, their destination; a rusting metal bench that sat at the peak. "She feels guilty about the way she handled the situation, but she doesn't regret it." She paused for a moment in thought, he marched by her side, beginning to see his breath exhale into the air as he panted. "She just wants you to be a bit more present, I think."

Harry thought back to their confrontation at MSG.

“You’d know all about it if you listened to anyone talk about anything that wasn’t to do with you.”

Stella always knew the buttons needed to push Harry to another level. It really hurt him to hear her say that. He'd always felt like he made an effort to listen to others - above all, to listen to her. But it definitely made him think twice about the way he'd been treating the people he cared about the most.

"Yeah, we spoke a lot about that. I'm trying, El."

"I wanna say I know you are, but to be completely honest, I don't know if you are or aren't... because we don't really speak much anymore do we?" Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, did all the women in his life recently come together in a meeting and decide it was time to give him a hard time? "Don't stress, I'm just saying." Ellis held her hand up in surrender before he could respond as she watched his brows furrow into a harsh line.

"I thought I was bloody trying, but I had so many exciting things lined up and Stell was so busy with work and..." Ellis pushed for him to continue.

"You can say what you want Harry, I won't tell Stell."

"Argh, she's just infuriating when she gets like this. Like, I don't think she realises how much pressure I'm under every bloody day. She literally ranted at me over the phone over nothing and then she laid me out in front of the people I work with and... listen, I don't wanna sound like a misogynistic prick but sometimes I just don't need all this... this feminine rage!" He finished, his free hand animated until it slapped back down to the top of his thigh. Ellis took a moment before the laughter pushed through her lips into a cackle. Harry snapped his head to look at her and then couldn't help but laugh a little. "Why are you laughing?" He asked in a tone of desperation.

"Oh, Harry you make me laugh. Just say your girlfriend is pissing you off, for God's sake. It's fine! I'm sure I piss Michael off on a daily. You've been with Stella for what? 10 years now? I mean bloody hell if she weren't pissing you off sometimes then I would think something was wrong."

"12 years actually," Harry smirked, tipping his head back to finish off the dregs of his coffee. "Honestly, we argue and bicker but she's never looked at me like she did in New York. She's the best, you know that, but she does do my head in when she gets into these... moods."

"Is it her being in a mood or is she just, I dunno, crying out for you?" She looked at him and he looked contemplative. "I've gotta be honest, and you already know how much I admire your relationship and how you've been able to make it last, but I don't think I could ever be in a relationship with you."

"Meaning?" That stung, but Harry tried not to take offence, he knew Ellis had no ill intent.

"You need to remember how hard it must be for Stella to be in a public relationship. You're literally one of the most famous men in the world right now and she has to navigate that every day," Ellis looked ahead of them, thinking about how much hate Stella got every day and how Harry never defended her. She got a little pissed off at the thought of that. "And half the time you're not even around to make all the agg worth it." She blurted out, taking a gulp of her latte and wincing at the burn at the back of her throat. Harry sighed heavily, growing agitated.

"She kept saying stuff like, 'remember who you are', on the phone. What the fuck is that about? Seriously, she can't expect me to be who I was when we were 16."

"I don't think she really means that, mate."

"Well, last time I checked, she was thoroughly enjoying the perks of being with 'one of the most famous men in the world'." Harry said, smirking cheekily in Ellis's direction.

"Don't be a cocky git, H." Ellis shut him down. She hoped that he hadn't become that person.

Harry chewed his cheek to keep from smiling, he was only winding her up but he knew he could let his ego get the best of him sometimes. He was self-aware, but he tried to go easy on himself after attending therapy sessions over it for many years. How was he not meant to get ahead of himself every once in a while when he had women, and men, lining up to tell him how amazing, handsome and talented he was? Holding up signs asking if they could call him, Daddy? Offering him jobs left and right, in industries he never thought he had any business getting involved in, with an insane amount of zeros added to each cheque they sent Jeff's way?

Stella always kept him on the ground. She'd check him, toot sweet, and with no remorse, and he needed that. But he remembered all the memories they made when they were younger, back in the 1D days. She'd fucking loved being Harry's girlfriend, that was a hill he would gladly die on. She'd loved the fast-paced, glamour of it all. She'd loved being by his side and knowing that almost every girl in the world wanted to be in her position. Travelling the world and fucking their way through tour dates. Waking up, naked and barely remembering any words in the English language but each other's names, and being too in love to worry about it. She'd stayed in the best hotel rooms money could buy and he'd flown her out first class whenever she'd had time off at university. She'd eaten at the best restaurants cities had to offer. He thought back to buying expensive lingerie for her, scheduling it to be delivered while he was rehearsing and returning to the many hotel rooms they stayed in to find her wearing it, sprawled on the bed and looking better than he could ever have imagined. He always marvelled at the way she could take his breath away. Every damn time.

She'd lived every 19-year-old's dream.

"I know she loved being with a pop star when she was a teenager, even into her early 20s... that life was new and exciting, for all of us. We all got swept up in it, including you." Ellis snapped him out of his wandering mind and he frowned, nodding. It was true, Harry's life went from zero to 60 overnight and thus so did Stella's. He made sure to take his friends with him for as long and as far as he could. They had amazing times. But everything changed when Stella graduated into midwifery, it was her dream and she was damn good at it. But her life became very serious, all of a sudden. Harry had begun to feel inadequate as a partner, he found her so impressive and it made him feel inferior. What he had to offer, she didn't want or need anymore. She had this wonderful qualification to bring life into the world, after dedicating years of her life to educating herself for it.

It caused havoc in their relationship, and confrontation began to bubble to the surface in ways it hadn't before. They'd nearly separated but decided to push through. Stella took a year out and Harry knew it was time to call it quits with the band. They'd spent time at home for the first time since Harry got on the X Factor and it changed everything. They both knew they had become a forever thing.

She gave up everything for him, to make it work. Now, perhaps it was time for him to consider doing the same. He looked at his friend, his brows deep in a frown behind his sunglasses.

"She's a grown woman now, Harry. She needs stability and support, she needs a man." Ellis nudged his side, smirking with a wink. "Her man."

"Alexa, play BBC Radio Two." Stella called to the little robotic woman who lived in her bedroom, before she began to ascend the stairs, cup of tea in hand. Delilah, the ginger Maine Coon Harry had brought home almost three years ago, dipped in and out of her legs to follow her, always her shadow. Their other cat, a Ragdoll named Percy, stayed in the living room. He'd jumped, or more accurately plopped, down into the dip in the sofa that Stella left behind when she'd gotten up. Percy was Stella's granddad's beloved pet and she'd taken him in after he passed away. He was 13 years old and yearned for a much slower life in his old age. But she adored him.

Stella and Delilah crossed the landing towards the main bedroom and while Stella went into the ensuite, the cat made haste to sit underneath her dressing table, knowing she would soon be required to keep her owner's feet warm by cuddling up on top of them while makeup was carefully applied.

The figure in the mirror over the sink stared back at Stella, with bags under its eyes and hair pulled up in a messy - not even a nice messy - bun with flyaways sticking out all over the place. She shook her head with a sigh and flicked the cold tap on to splash water over her face, in an attempt to bring her dull skin back to life. Work was killing her, she'd leave one shift, only to be back in for a double six hours later. It'd been a few days since she'd flown back from New York and she'd been almost flat out since. She hoped it was a temporary thing, due to staff members calling in sick and kept her fingers crossed it would die down soon.

The radio had been purely background noise until she heard the familiar notes and dulcet tones of her other half.

"You know it's not the same as it was..."

"You've got that right, babe," she chuckled sadly to herself. She thought back to the night Melanie gave birth to baby Molly and took a long shaky breath inwards.

Wednesday 21 September 2022

The room was dark, all but silent apart from a few monotonous beeps signalling Melanie's heart was still beating. Stella remembered the first time she'd been privy to a situation where all that mattered was that the beeps kept coming. One at a time, steady and consistent, that's all that was needed. She'd had nightmares where the beeps stopped. Dead. Silence.

George's voice, calm but stoic, shook her out of her daze. "You did everything you could, Stella. Dr. Brooks knows what she's doing, this baby will be fine." Stella looked up at him beside her, dressed in his blue labour scrubs, hairnet and mask.

"She has to be, George." Her voice was shaking, what had just happened was one of the most traumatic labours she'd come up against. She couldn't help but blame herself. After all, she'd been up for close to 22 hours by then. She wasn't up to assisting in Mel's labour, she'd been selfish in her choice to rush back and take over. She raised a wobbly hand up to her forehead and rubbed, willing herself not to cry.

Dr. Brooks worked skilfully and moved with absolute purpose, decades of experience had made her hands nimble. This baby needed to come out quickly and efficiently. Melanie had already lost a lot of blood and they couldn't afford for the baby to be starved of oxygen.

Stella closed her eyes and breathed deep.

"Take deep breaths for me, Mel." Stella was between Melanie's legs and it had been nearly an hour of intermittent pushing, to no avail. How could that be when she was fully dilated? "Come on, I know you can do this."

"I can't, I ca-can't." Melanie stuttered above her, taking huge drags from the gas and air, nearing unconsciousness.

"I don't think she's getting any contractions now, G," Stella stated, eyes wide in early panic as she looked at her general manager for help. Stella had already had to cut into Melanie in an attempt to accommodate the baby's head and shoulders, but she was just not budging.

"Stay calm. Mel, Melanie," George spoke gruffly over Stella's head and she snapped her head to look at his sudden move to the top of the bed. Melanie's head had gone slack, the spout of the gas and air tube hanging from her lips that were rapidly turning blue.

"Fuck." Stella whispered, barely audible. The following moments were a blur. She looked down at her gloved hands, gloves that were once blue but had turned red. She looked down at her scrubs, red, all the way down to her knees. "Fuck."

"Alright, here she is," Stella startled out of her reverie with the cry of a newborn. A beautiful newborn baby and it was possibly the most gorgeous sound she'd ever heard. The relief nearly took her out at the knees. George threw an arm around Stella's shoulders and squeezed and she smiled for the first time in what felt like days. Her ears pricked up as they searched for the all-important sound and there it was. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Under the flowing water of the hospital shower, Stella felt numb. She rested her head on her shoulders and let the droplets run down her body, breathing deeply. She thought about Harry. She wished he was there, it made her face crumble for a moment and she let a fist hit the shower wall in frustration. She might have fucked up her job and her relationship in one night, impressive even by her standards.

Stepping out in a rough, clinically pressed white towel that probably took off a layer of skin as she rubbed it up and down her limbs, she'd never felt more drained. She was tired to her bones. A friend on another ward, Angel had travelled in to bring Stella some clothes as she only lived a short walk away. She'd left them in Stella's locker for her to collect before going on her shift.

She dragged the velour trackie bottoms up her legs and threw the hoodie over her head, forgoing a bra - there was no way the girls were going to be constrained while she was in this mental state, that might've actually driven her to the brink.

She rubbed her hands over her eyes and tried to get the image of Melanie's unconscious face out of her mind. Baby and mother were both alive. Melanie was torn up, but she was alive. That's what mattered.

Towelling her hair dry, she couldn't wait to get home, get into bed and most likely cry herself to sleep. Throwing her bloodied scrubs into the wash bin next to the lockers and grabbing her bag from her locker she left and pushed the door to the staff changing area open. Had it always weighed a tonne? Shuffling in Angel's sliders that were a size too big for her, she smiled softly at Val who was still at the front desk. She'd probably finished, gone home and come back in the same time Stella had been dealing with Melanie. Val smiled smugly and looked to her right. Stella followed her gaze and nearly doubled over when her eyes landed on him.

"Oh my god," she sputtered through a breath. "Harry."

He looked up at the sound of her voice, his eyes fluttered open and he shook his head slightly to adjust to his surroundings. Vision clearing and landing on her, he rose from the hard plastic chairs and Stella finally broke down. Her face crumbled at the pure comfort he brought just by being near. He was wearing what he'd worn to the arena the night before.

"Harry, have you been here all night?" She sobbed and he welcomed her to step into him bringing his hands to cup her cheeks, catching her tears with his thumbs. He nodded subtly, his brows pinching in the middle, exhausted and emotional. She dropped her bag to the floor and craned her neck slightly to push her lips to his, short quick pecks as he stroked the skin under her eyes.

"I love you," he whispered. "Please, don't ever run away again."

"I love you too, I'm sorry, baby." She whispered back, stroking his hair back and scratching the back of his neck.

"And you flew right after her..." Ellis said wistfully, looking at her friend as they neared the metal bench at the top of the Heath.

"Yeah... not gonna be winning any awards for eco-friendliness any time soon." He joked.

"Fair play, you can be a bloody romantic sod when you want to be, H." She marvelled, looking out to the skyline below them. He looked out to watch the rest of London going about their lives. An older couple caught his eye, holding hands and walking in step with each other down the hill. He thought about Stella for the umpteenth time that day; that was nothing new. They weren't perfect, but that night when she'd helped bring new life into the world, they'd brought new life into their relationship. And watching the pair of strangers continue their stroll, as the man brought his partner into his side to kiss the top of her head, he knew it would all be worth it in the end.

Because she'd been there all along.

----

Hope you enjoyed this little glance into Harry and Stella's world. If you've made it this far, I love ya!

See you next time.

Nel xo

Itty bitty taggy listy:

@lomlhstyles | @jessitpwk

[radiowallet]

West

Summary: She dreamt of going west. Pairing: Joel Miller x Third Person Female WC: 780 Warnings: 18+MDNI, unprotected vaginal sex, some descriptions of blood and wounds. A lot of purple prose. This is really just a stream of consciousness that resulted from journaling during my lunch break yesterday.

~~ Please follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications to be notified of new writing ~~

Gif by @pedropascalsx

She dreamt of going west. Not in any real way; in any way that mattered. Nothing mattered anymore. Not really. Not past the one singular goal of survival, one day placed in front of the other, bleeding in and out with each sunrise that still managed to show itself despite the bleakest of surroundings. 

She would say it without any sort of commitment, all consequences of her words floating away, like embers of a flame, there and gone in a curl of smoke. West, she would say. California. Her eyes would drift to the window then down to his map, locking onto something distant and forgotten, her tongue tracing the edge of her chapped lips, her fingers holding tight to the glass of whiskey she poured herself. Joel sometimes wondered if she only talked to fill his own silence, compensating for the words he refused to part with.

He sometimes wondered why he cared.

Sand and sun and sky, she would say. Stars up above and a warm bed below. A dream she had at 29, more possibility than fantasy of running away to find something bigger and better than what she had. A dream then; something much smaller now. Barely a memory, wistful and silly and meant for a different life, another world, where people still looked to the horizon for answers that did not beg for more questions. 

He thinks can see it, buried twenty years in the past, lost in between the pain and time and dirt that coats her skin – wide eyes chasing the skyline, plump cheeks kissed by the sun, plush lips always curved around the promise of more. That girl would be gone before he could even begin to let her linger, but Joel found he didn’t mind. This world wasn’t built for what-if’s and could’ve been’s. The crumbling edges of it were held together, just barely, by border walls and ration slips, no room for dreaming save for those that came uninvited in the dark of night. 

Eventually her voice would grow faint, trading words for sips of liquor, chasing away the sun with each swallow, until finally he found her lips and all he tasted was fire.  

Tired hands pull at broken skin, dirty clothes falling away as they kiss, stolen gasps traded in the dark.

The mattress is hard, her curves soft, his own calloused fingertips tracing her skin, razor blades forged beneath his touch. There is dirt in her pores, ash in her hair, sweat and blood and spit clinging to every wrinkle, each scar. It is a roadmap, one he follows with focus, lips marching a steady path along her form. 

She laughs, hard and short, her eyes finding his as he slips inside her. 

She apologizes for not being something brand new. For not being a dream. For every blemish these twenty years have given. For the marks, the brands, the hurt carved so close. 

She says she’s unraveled. More traveled. 

Joel wants to tell her to shut up. To remind her he doesn’t have room for dreams. Not anymore. But he keeps it to himself. He bites his tongue and leans in close, kissing her just a little bit harder. He presses her down with the weight of his body, matching each jagged edge he has to her own, finding strength in their broken pieces, their weary bones, their creased skin.  

He snaps his hips and clenches his jaw, teeth sharp and mouth dry. He fills her to the brim, begging her to hold on, to dig her dirty nails into his aching back and scrape him raw. Peel his skin away and expose the years of aches and pains to the stale air of his small home. 

He wants to ask her more about sandy shores and starry skies. To whisper all her dreams to him, past and present and future, and fuck anyone who dares to tell her no. He bites her neck and licks the wound clean, something bitter and sweet touching to his taste buds. And in return she gasps and cries and begs for more. 

More of him. Him. Only him, her voice breaking around the easy silence they find between his threadbare sheets. 

They come together, crashing waves and broken bodies, clinging helplessly through the pleasure. In the after she is quiet, no longer needing to fill the silence, content in his arms, his back pulled close to her front. Sleep finds them, deep and dark; another stolen moment, and Joel doesn’t dare ask. 

He swears he doesn’t care. 

But if he did she would say —

At 29 she dreamt of more, and now she only dreams of him. 

[princessozera]

Actually,

I will elaborate because I finally had the time today. Yes the "burn him at the stake" was still residual from Satan's original valentine card so lets go through a rewrite/ different pov shall we.

Notes before you read: for an insecure MC that also overthinks

Light angst (??? Another middle-of-the-road feel so I'll let you decide)

GN MC (They/Them, 3rd ppov)

No word count bc im mobile.

❤️💔❤️💔❤️💔❤️💔❤️💔❤️💔❤️💔❤️💔❤️💔

Had Satan not asked MC about holidays from across the human realm, they would have never noticed that next week was Valentine’s Day. They didn’t care either way for the holiday, and since it wasn’t widely celebrated in the Devildom, they hadn’t planned on doing anything to commemorate the day passing.

However, in these few weeks since getting Satan’s pact, he’s taken a greater interest in all things human. Satan has been spending more time in their room, much to Mammon’s annoyance, and most of their conversations these days revolve around Satan asking MC a ton of questions about the Human ExperienceTM and MC trying not to generalize too broadly. His interest is endearing, and perhaps that’s why MC ended up agreeing to a small gift exchange and hangout with Satan for valentines day.

" Actually even as a demon-"

MC thinks back to his startling words while they shop for his gift. They hadn't necessarily considered Satan more than a friend before, but his interest was flattering. His excitment had grown on them and made them excited for the exchange, knowing that they'd love whatever he got them. There were so many oddities in the Devildom, what would this little cat bring home?

.

.

.

Woah.

Maybe there should have been a price limit. But how could MC have expected Satan to hand them an intricately carved box, inlaid with opals and filled to the brim with other jewels? They turn a few in their hand and fight down the urge to feel stupidly inadequate- the leather diary in their bag feeling as heavy and unappealing as a brick in this moment.

There isn't much time to linger in their embarassment- they had to choose one gem fast before Satan assumed they would want all of them and think them greedy. Maybe, had it been someone else, they would have saved the gem for the year then sold it in the human world to pay off a few bills. But this was a gift from someone MC had grown to care about and consider a friend. Anyway, how would they keep it safe from Mammon for a year? What could they even use a gem for, a paper weight? That seems almost as disrespectful as selling it for rent. Something useful... could pure emeralds be used as crystal balls?

Ah.

Right.

And just like that, MC is hit in the face with the reality that they overstepped. All it took was a few sweet words and they had gotten too comfortable. Their confusion turns into a bitter taste in their mouth as they drop the gems back into the box. This wasn't a gift exchange between friends or a possible love match, MC was just a novelty and this was an experiment to expand Satan's worldly (or other wordly)- ness.

Embarassed and reeling, they hand the box back over to Satan, mumbling "That's not necessarily true for everyone." He tries to shove the box back into their hands, looking ready to drop it just to force MC into grabbing it.

Right. More items of prestige and ridiculous status because "you're all the same." Of course he would't have any qualms about obtaining and departing with an entire box of gems. He's a demon, and a lord to boot. MC doesnt bother wondering how many lifetimes of work it would take them to get him something of equal value.

Okay maybe hold on to that idea-

Nope, no. Mc shakes their head, both to turn him down and ignore their calling as a super villain. After Satan has taken the box again, they pull out their gift, subtly trying to flatten out the wrinkles in the box and wrapping paper with their thumbs. Satan tucks the box under his arm and opens the gift. He's quite for a moment, turning it and inspecting every detail. His fingers run down the spine and MC feels as if he could see the giant "For Sale!" sign the book had been under. Before MC could defend their choice, Satan turns and tossed the box -probably worth 8 cars- casually on his bed to free up his arm and take a look inside the journal. The outside has been plain brown leather with a few pretty markings, but the pages inside where a green not to far feom Satan eye color, the bottom border lined with trees and a few cats on every page. He takes another minute to admire it before looking up.

Satan is smiling at MC, but it dips and he looks back down at the book. He flips through the pages quickly, and when he looks back up this time, he was pursing his lips. He looks between MC and the book for a few times and MC could swear they heard the gears turning in his head.

Mc's chest isn't quite so tight, knowing that Satan liked the journal. And having him understand why they turned down his gift without having to talk through it was an even bigger relief.

"You're all the same".

It would keep them up on bad nights, but Satan's apology in this moment made it okay for now. He was apologizing over and over again, promising to get them a better gift, that he knew MC wasn't shallow or conceited- it was starting to feel like over kill. To draw the attention away from themselves, MC points out that it's still valentines day. They don't need a present, but how about spending some time cooking together? It was their night and they could use a little help. Satan disagrees on the first part, but with MC's permission, takes their hand and follows them into the kitchen for the second. He's a good debater and convinces MC on a compromise- he helps them cook for the brother but also cooks something for only them 2. He tells them where they'll take their little picnic, a hill overlooking the Devildom, and as he seasons a few steaks he tells them about the bioluminescent flowers that grow there. Satan takes all the prep and cleaning work from MC, still feeling embarassed about his gift slip up from earlier. MC had their hands full watching the stove, they didn't even notice Satan cooking a full 3 course meal and packing a basket while MC finished plating the food for the others.

A light breeze and the smell of ripe apples followed them up the climb to the top of the hill. Satan lays out a meal of fruits, cheese, crackers and steak, hiding the little tiramisu cups he'd bartered off Beel for dessert. The light of flowers was soft but enough to see by. Away from the brothers and with some fresh air in their system, conversation wasn't forced and the moments in silence were also comfortable. Satan opened the journal MC got him and explained in detail how he'd format the pages when writing, talking about the different styles common in the Devildom, and why he'd recently switched from a different format. He encouraged MC to talk about their interests, trying to recall the books on their shelves and the items strewn about their room. Satan even took a page from Asmo's book, asking to compare phone wallpapers and joking about taking a photo right now so thsy could match.

Satan has always been a bit loose with words, influenced by his years of reading both romance and fabtasy books. He hadn't thought much about how he'd implied that he'd woo MC even as a demon. He hadn't thought much about this suggestion of matching wallpapers, it had just flowed into the conversation. So he's surprised to feel his heart beat speed up when MC agrees and curses himself for not taking Asmo's perfect-photo-angle advice more seriously. While it was cute to have matching backgrounds, he couldn't stop himself later that night from changing it to just show MC.

[pastelwitchling]

Rearview Mirror malex au chapter 3 teaser.

***

              Michael thought he’d been used to feeling lost. When Alex had first left after high school; and then again when he’d come back after a decade away, but didn’t want to have anything to do with Michael; then when he’d disappeared for good, unwilling to ever set foot in Roswell again. Michael thought he’d known what it felt like to exist like he was existing now, sitting on Max’s couch and staring through the stone floor as Max gave Isobel and Kyle the facts of the case, unable to really hear them; to not really be in his own body, his mind on autopilot.

              It was nothing compared to this. Because this time, Michael had held Alex tight, and Alex had left anyway. This time, Michael had tried, and Alex had chosen someone else. He got a sudden sick feeling that he couldn’t fight off before it was swarming every inch of his mind, haunting him with questions; was this how Alex had felt when Michael had turned away from him, over and over? Was it just this much hurt every time?

              He put a hand to his chest, exhaling shakily, the world crashing back down around him in a flood of noise and gasps and whispers. Had he been doing this to Alex for years?

              “You’re not my problem anymore.”

              “So Liz is wrong!” Isobel demanded.

              “Is,” Kyle tried, “it’s what the tests say.”

              “Then the tests are wrong!” she snapped. “O-Or, I don’t know, the blood was wrong. Or the samples got mixed up!”

              “Liz wouldn’t make a mistake like that,” Max heaved. “Look, she doublechecked and triple-checked and quadruple-checked before she said anything to me. She didn’t even want to tell me, I got there and she tried hiding the papers!”

              “Because she knows they’re wrong,” Isobel insisted. “She knows that you can’t be a clone, and Michael can’t be Jones’s son!”

              “But I am,” Michael said despite himself. His was voice low, but it cut through the room like an axe. Isobel flinched. Michael met her eyes with all of Alex’s steadiness, wondering if it was the lingering scent of Alex’s scent around him or the still-there feel of his skin against his own that was making it easier for him to say the words.

              Something about the way Alex had held him, and after so long, like he still wanted him after knowing who he was. Michael looked to Max, watching him as though he could read his thoughts, and knew that this was why Max had called Alex before he’d given Michael the news. He’d known that if Michael needed anyone to get him through the shock, to help him see that he was still Michael, it could only have been Alex.

              Standing, his shoulders straight, he repeated if only to himself, “I am.” He shook his head. “Everything we’ve found out about our moms so far, it all makes sense if . . .”

              Max raised a brow, a grim smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “If I’m a clone?”

              “You’re you,” Michael defended at once, echoing Alex. “No matter what some damn tests say.”

              “Yeah!” Isobel insisted, red-faced with anger, eyes brimming with tears.

              “Baby?” Kyle asked softly, putting a hand between her shoulder blades.

              Isobel wiped her tears away furiously and made a sound between a scream and a groan. “Doesn’t Ortecho ever have good news?!”

              “Hey,” Liz huffed, glaring from the doorway at Isobel, a stack of files in her arms, “I’m just the messenger, okay? You want someone who’ll lie?”

              “No one blame’s you, Liz,” Max sighed, kissing Liz’s cheek before picking at the corner of one of the files. “What’s all this?”

              “Alex asked me to bring these by,” she said. “It’s the tests, he wants a look at them himself.” Michael reached for them, but without a moment’s pause, Liz unloaded the stack into Kyle’s arms.

              Michael frowned. “Why are you—”

              “Sorry, cowboy,” Liz said. “Alex said he has to pull an all-nighter, so only Kyle can give him the files.”

              Kyle didn’t look the least bit surprised, and it hit Michael then; only Kyle had access to Deep Sky, so only Kyle would be able allowed through the front door. Behind which, Michael was sure, Alex and Forrest were planning to cozy up together for the rest of the night. No one to bother them.

              Like hell . . .

              He caught up to Kyle on his way to his car. “I’m coming with you.”

              “What—no, Michael, I can’t just—”

              “Yes, you can,” Michael demanded. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. He’d been so close to getting Alex to listen to him, to fixing what had happened. Alex had touched him and it was a drug he’d been addicted to since they were seventeen. He needed him back, he needed Alex touching him again. And now.

              He thought Kyle would argue with him, but he just shook his head, resigned. “Alex isn’t going to like this.”

              Yes, Michael thought, remembering the way Alex had held him, the look in his eyes, the hope that he didn’t want but rose in him anyway, and he knew he wasn’t the only one yearning. He will.

[ryehouses]

Hey, just wanted to say that AST is hands down my favorite bobadin fic and one of my favorite star wars fics of all time. When life/work stops interfering I WILL go back and comment on chapters, but in the meantime I was wondering if you had any more Mandalorian POVs from the summit that you cared to share. I'm so excited for the rest of blackiron, you're amazing and I can't wait to see what else you do!!

aaah thank you so much! i'm so glad you liked the fic <3 seriously, getting messages like this warms my heart. sorry it took me so long to respond to this, lol. my inbox is like a wonderful, dopamine generating hydra. one ask is answered, three more asks appear.

i did have some POV left from the summit on krownest; here's a bo-katan POV, set during the night between the first day of the summit and the duels the next morning.

typical cw for mandalorians being kind of awful to each other. bo-katan derogatorily refers to boba as a clone. she also mentions thinking about killing din in order to claim the darksaber.

in which a plan comes together. 

Rau managed to hold off for three entire hours before he tracked Bo-Katan down. She was impressed. Rau’d always been a curious moth-owl of a man, for all that his signet was a snarling shriek-hawk, and back on Mandalore he’d turned up at the most inconvenient times, brimming of questions that Bo-Katan didn’t want to answer. 

On Mandalore Bo-Katan had done her best to avoid him, because starting a clan feud with the Mandalorian Protectors would have been karking stupid, but today, she would welcome his questions. 

Today, she thought, watching him approach, I want him to ask. Over the long course of their shared history, Bo-Katan had only very rarely been able to enjoy stealing a march on Rau. 

Bringing him a new mand’alor, Bo-Katan thought, lidding her eyes, definitely counts. 

All across the frozen lake that lay at the foot of Clan Wren’s great morut, cook-fires were going out. The smell of smoke and snow and tiingilar lingered in the air. Most of the clans had drawn back inwards into themselves, reeling their warriors back from the games of getshuk that had sprung up across the ice, from the fires, from the woods. Many clans were heading back to their own ships for the night, but some were staying nearby. Ursa Wren had opened her morut to as many Mandalorians as would accept her offer of shelter, and all along the lakeshore tents were rising. 

Bo-Katan watched them all, this last remnant of her people, and waited for Rau. 

He crossed the ice, guided only by the last of the fires and his usual ability to find and irritate Bo-Katan. His helmet was tucked underneath his arm and there was a thoughtful expression on his face. He had a glass of tihaar in one hand. Rau’s usual minder – Kippan Awaud, who Rau’d stolen out from underneath Bo-Katan’s nose a few years ago – was nowhere to be seen. 

Probably skulking around somewhere, gathering secrets, she thought. Awaud had painted his armor bright orange, but somehow that had never stopped him from learning all sorts of interesting things. 

“You’ve talked to Djarin, then,” Bo-Katan said, when Rau was close enough to hear her. “I know that look.” 

Most Mandalorians – most beings, probably, though Bo-Katan’s experience with Djarin was as a Mandalorian – ended up with that look on their face, after talking to Din Djarin for a little while. Mirsh’yc, the word was. Stunned, like Djarin had ended the conversation by punching Rau square in the nose. 

Rau grunted. Now that the fires had gone out, Bo-Katan could see the stars. They glittered above Krownest, distant and beautiful. Like this, looking up at them with her gaze half-lidded, the stars blinked in and out of existence like bright eyes. 

The Council of Kings is watching, she thought. 

“What did you think?” Bo-Katan asked, watching the stars. She didn’t need Rau to answer, not really. That he was still here was answer enough. 

“Where did you find him?” Rau asked. 

The corner of Bo-Katan’s mouth pulled up against her will. “I didn’t,” she said. “He found me.” 

“Where?” 

“Trask,” said Bo-Katan. “Ever heard of it?” 

Rau thought for a moment, then shook his head. 

Bo-Katan snorted. She finally looked away from the stars and studied Rau instead. It had been a few years since Bo-Katan had seen him in erson. Back on Mandalore – where there had been a Mandalore, and Bo-Katan had ruled it – she’d seen him often, because Rau had helped Bo-Katan win Mandalore back from the Empire and had wanted a say in its ruling. His say hadn’t lasted very long – the Empire’d come for Mandalore not six months after Gar Saxon had been overthrown. Bo-Katan’d heard that Rau had made it off the planet when the bombs had started to fall, but she hadn’t seen him since then. 

Rau looked healthy enough. Older, like Bo-Katan herself was older, but still strong. HIs armor was in good condition. His eyes were sharp and intelligent. He had moth-owl eyes. 

“You’re not missing much,” Bo-Katan said. Trask had been cold. The air had tasted like salt. Bo-Katan, Axe and Koska had planned to raid the Imperial cruiser for weeks without any progress, until Din Djarin had flopped into Bo-Katan’s lap like a particularly surly colo claw fish and accomplished the work of weeks in just one afternoon. 

“He was half-drowning,” she added, watching Rau’s face. “Then, once we pulled him out of the water, he took out the crew of an Imperial cruiser.” 

Rau snorted. “That seems to be a trend,” he said. He hadn’t come to attend Bo-Katan on the Gra’tua before the summit had started, but Bo-Katan hadn’t particularly expected him to. Rau’d been very clear, when Mandalore had fallen, just who he thought was responsible for the lost of their homeworld. 

Bo-Katan inclined her head. “He’s a good fighter,” she said. 

Rau smiled. “I believe it.” 

Bo-Katan lifted an eyebrow. “Wow,” she said. “You like him that much, do you?” 

The shrug Rau offered her was delicate. Non-committal. Rau was an old soldier and his expression gave nothing away. But Bo-Katan knew him. She’d seen him talking to Djarin next to a cook-fire. Rau’d sided with Djarin after Fett had shown up, which would endear him to Djarin, given how annoyingly devoted Djarin was to the clone.  

“I like him well enough,” Rau said. “Though I’m surprised that you do.” 

“Who says that I like him?” Bo-Katan asked. Most of the time talking to Djarin made Bo-Katan want to claw her own hair out, because Djarin made very little karking sense. Most of the time Bo-Katan thought about killing him and taking the darksaber off of his corpse. 

“Respect him, then,” said Rau. “You wouldn’t have named him mand’alor otherwise.” 

“Maybe I just want to get rid of a rival,” Bo-Katan said, though Rau had the right of it. “He’ll have more than his share of duels tomorrow. He is a skilled warrior, but there are hundreds of us here. Any Mandalorian could walk away with the darksaber.” 

Rau snorted again. “You can’t fool me,” he said. “I’ve seen your tal’vode working the crowd. You’re rallying underneath Djarin’s signet.” 

It was Bo-Katan’s turn to offer up a delicate shrug. She wasn’t going to state her intentions. Her plan. Rau could figure it out on his own, of course, but she didn’t plan to make it easy for him.

“Why?” Rau asked. His moth-owl eyes glitterered. 

Bo-Katan shrugged again. Rau knew why Bo-Katan had named Djarin the mand’alor over her own name, over a clan-ally’s, over a Mandalorian more well-known to the people than Din Djarin. A Mandalorian like Ursa Wren or Rau himself. 

“It can’t just be respect alone, not with you,” Rau added. Bo-Katan didn’t rise to the bait. “Does Djarin owe you a debt?” 

“No,” said Bo-Katan, truthfully. Djarin didn’t owe her anything, not really, though if Bo-Katan could make Djarin think that he owed her, that sense of debt could be a useful tool. 

Rau groaned. “What, then? What do you want? What do you gain?” 

“You take any sharp blows to the head recently?” Bo-Katan asked, politely. “Because you’re smarter than this, Rau. You know what it is that I want.” 

Rau eyed her for a moment. “Mandalore,” he said. 

Bo-Katan inclined her head. “Mandalore,” she agreed. 

Rau went quiet. Bo-Katan thought about pushing him a little farther, but let him keep his silence. She turned her attention back to the stars. 

“When you called this summit,” said Rau, slowly. “I thought – well. We knew of your Quest.” Bo-Katan had been searching for Moff Gideon and his stolen prize for years, before Djarin’d literally tripped over the blade. She had intended to use it to make her own claim. To rally her people to glory one last time. 

“We thought that you called us here for vengeance,” Rau said. 

“I know,” said Bo-Katan. She’d done that on purpose. She’d named her ship the Gra’tua for a reason. “Half of the clans wouldn’t have come, if they’d heard that some nameless Child of the Watch was the new mand’alor. I needed to get everyone here.” 

“Well-played,” Rau muttered. 

Bo-Katan inclined her head. It had been well-played. Djarin’d thrown a hydrospanner into the middle of Bo-Katan’s plans when he’d taken the darksaber from Moff Gideon. He’d upended years of planning. Of careful work. 

But sometimes, in a game of ci’bikad, losing a square or a knife or a token opened up a new path, and Bo-Katan was Mandalorian. Mandalorians could change, if they had to. Her pride was one thing, but if Bo-Katan had to weigh her own pride against the future of her people – 

“You didn’t call us here for vengeance,” Rau said. 

“No,” Bo-Katan agreed. “I didn’t.”

“You do mean to name him, then.” Rau rocked back on his heels. 

“I did name him,” said Bo-Katan. She’d called Djarin mand’alor in front of the entire gathering. 

“To support him, then,” said Rau. 

“As long as he doesn’t die tomorrow,” Bo-Katan said, wryly. She had seen Djarin fight and knew what he was capable of, but she didn’t know some of the other Mandalorians – these Children of the Watch – and she didn’t know what they could do. 

But my credits, she thought, the memory of Djarin crossing the Gra’tua’s bridge with the darksaber singing in his hand seared into her bones, are on Djarin. 

“Then yes,” she said. “With all of my power.” 

Rau looked like Bo-Katan had just punched him in the nose, not Djarin. “You’ll – you’ll fight for him? An ijaa’kaan?” 

She smiled. “What?” she said. She shifted so that the smooth, dark handles of her WESTAR blasters were visible in the moonlight. “You don’t think that I would? That I will? Do you want me to challenge you? I’m a bit old for an ijaa’kaan, Rau, but if you insist – ” 

Rau held up his hands in mock-surrender. He was Bo-Katan’s age and knew as well as she did that even an old Mandalorian was plenty dangerous. “I’ll leave that to the verd’ike,” he said. “You and I have done enough fighting. There wouldn’t even be much to duel over, would there?”

Bo-Katan shrugged. She could always come up with a good reason to punch Rau in the face. 

But she hadn’t answered Rau’s question, not out loud. 

You’ll fight for him? 

Yes, Bo-Katan thought. Djarin was irritating. Stubborn. He’d chosen Fett as a riduur, which had ruined half a dozen half-formed plans Bo-Katan had made to tie Djarin to a proper Mandalorian clan, and he’d taken the darksaber from her, and he’d defied every expectation that Bo-Katan had ever had. 

But Djarin was strong. Honorable. He was a good man. He had the potential to be a good king, if he lived long enough to learn how to do it. Bo-Katan could help him learn. So could Rau. 

“No,” Rau said. His voice was quiet, almost like he was talking to himself. “We’re on the same side, aren’t we?” He sounded faintly surprised. 

“It’s happened before,” Bo-Katan pointed out. It wasn’t an agreement, but Rau knew her well enough to know that he wasn’t going to get one, not until Bo-Katan was sure that she’d been right about Din Djarin.

I’m pretty sure that I’m right, she thought. That he’s strong. But tomorrow – tomorrow will tell. Haar vaar’tur nau’e. 

Rau must have reached a similar conclusion, because he pulled a face. “It has,” he said, agreeably. “But that doesn’t mean that I was looking forward to it happening again, you know.” 

Bo-Katan smiled. Rau was always honest. He always had been. Honesty – even the dangerous kind, the kind of honesty that could be fired like a blaster, swung like a sword – was a trait that Rau and Djarin shared. A trait that would weld Rau to Djarin’s side like vhekad binding two layers of beskar. Bo-Katan remembered her father’s forge-lessons. She knew how to make strong metal. 

“Me neither,” Bo-Katan said, offering Rau a little bit of honesty of her own. She pulled a small metal flask off of her belt and opened it with a twist of her thumb. The smell of tihaar, sharp and sweet, rose on the breeze. She held her flask out, offering it to Rau, who lifted his own glass of tihaar and knocked it against her flask. 

She didn’t need to say anything else. Rau likely knew that tomorrow would be a hard day. A bloody day. Convincing any number of Mandalorians to follow one course always required a little bloodshed. Rau had already chosen his side. Bo-Katan had seen it the second she’d spotted Rau and Djarin talking together by the fire. 

Djarin is Rau’s mand’alor, she thought. And after tomorrow – 

“Oya Manda,” said Rau, dryly, lifting his glass again and lifting it to his mouth.

“Oya Manda,” Bo-Katan agreed, and drank.

[bacchanal-if]

Can we have a small drabble where MC before running away with T(in this case it's Tamsin) had commissioned a beautiful emerald and diamond necklace set for them, and then when they're safe enough MC gives it to them while saying, "I know you love the colour green very much, so I had this made for you, my love. I hope you love this!" How would she react if MC helped her put it on too?

At last, you can show her the special gift you've kept secret all this time. You hand her the box.

"What is this?" she blushes.

"Open it," you urge.

You brim with nervous energy as she carefully opens it. Her eyes go round when she sees the necklace, and she swallows thickly. She looks at you in question.

"I know you love the colour green very much, so I had this made for you, my love. I hope you love this!"

Her eyes water as she looks from you to the necklace and back again, then suddenly she throws her arms around your neck.

"It's too fine for me!" she says, holding you tight, but her voice betrays her emotion. You know she is touched. You wrap your arms around her in loving embrace. "Impossible," you say. You feel her lovely curves as she presses closer against you.

Eventually she lets out of your arms, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She inspects the jewels closely, letting them catch the light at different angles, and studying every facet with pure wonder. You can't help but smile at how adorable she is.

"Let me put it on you," you say, reaching for the box. She blushes and nods, hesitating a moment before turning around and presenting her neck. All the jewels in the world couldn't match the beauty of her bare skin, you think to yourself, thinking perhaps you failed her in this gift, but you slip your hands around her anyway.

You linger as you bring the clasp together, feeling her warmth beneath your fingers as it you fasten it. She turns around with that beatific smile that never fails to weaken your knees, and that alone is worth more than the price you paid. The green compliments her eyes.

"What do you think?" she asks, looking to you for confirmation.

"No words could describe."