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atlaswav · 1 year

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LOST WITHOUT YOU ☆

INFO: 2812 words, Alhaitham x gn!reader, a little mildly suggestive content (16+) SYNOPSIS: after focusing your whole life on studies and beating Alhaitham, you find that you've lost yourself, and you don't know how to put yourself back together. AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is so rushed and bad but the ideas just kept flowing out and suddenly I wrote a whole short story 😓 (unedited pls lmk if u find errors! likes and reblogs also very much appreciated!!!)

It was never a competition – not to him, at least.

Him, with his cold, unwavering demeanour and even colder, unshakable gaze.

It never was a competition, but to you, everything was. You hated it all. You hated his expression, permanently arranged in disdain, and his withering glare. That look that he always gave you, always the same, blank stare.

Above all, you loathed his overwhelming sense of self importance. He carried himself with such an air that you felt absolutely unremarkable next to him, and in your drunken wishes, you yearned for him to be put in his place.

Wishful drinking, you called it, and such was suited to a night like this. The night before receiving the results for your final exams, the only one that really mattered in your seemingly futile quest to outshine Alhaitham.

Your roommates were fully aware of your infatuation, though you wouldn’t call it that. They teased you for locking yourself up in your room while they went out socialising and bar streaking, most often returning with the reek of alcohol staining their clothes, passing out on the couch.

They thought you weren’t a drinker, too, but truthfully, you only saved drinking for important occasions, and this seemed like an occasion important enough. With a flair for dramatic, you had claimed yet another bottle of cheap wine off the kitchen counter before retreating to your room, several glances of concern and curiosity following you down the hallway. Seated on the miniature balcony, you twisted open the cap on the bottle, wincing at the wine’s harsh bitterness as time slipped by, minutes blurring into hours with hushed murmurs outside your door.

They cared, they really did. But you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge them, not with your thoughts too occupied with outdoing Alhaitham to amount to anything substantial. Your roommates already thought you were a studying fanatic – those looks of concern weren’t a first time occurrence as you trudged up the stairs with the wine in tow. You didn’t care enough to correct or reassure them – though were they wrong?

You hardly left the house enough, if it weren’t for classes and your job, you’d be a hermit. It felt suffocating, sometimes, the life you’d given yourself. Though ahead in all other aspects, you couldn’t help but feel like you were falling behind. Everyone was falling in love, while you fell behind, caught in the grinding cycle of academics and validation.

Melancholic and dramatic, you were, when you were drunk. Though others may be hopeless romantics.

“[name]? Someone’s here to see you.” Your roommate knocks on your door.

You don’t glance over your shoulder as the knocking becomes more insistent. “No thanks.”

“May I come in?” A familiar voice echoes from down the hallway. Your hand freezes halfway to the bottle.

The door creaks open, and you turn around, slowly standing up and steadying yourself on the railing. Alhaitham stands in the doorframe, only his silhouette visible through the light pouring in through the hallway.

You’re suddenly far too aware of your pyjama pants and well worn hoodie, folding your arms across yourself. “Why are you here?”

He stands there for a while, completely still. Then he sighs. “I don’t know.” Stepping across the threshold, he starts to close the door behind him.

“I didn’t say you could come in,”

“Sorry.” He says. After a brief silence, he leaves.

You stand there, confused, with unspoken questions hanging in the air.

Then, the door opens again.

You’d never seen him so unsteady before, gaze darting around the room and a flush high on his cheeks. His Emerald eyes are bright as he steps into the dim light of your room. “I have to come in.”

You frown at him in confusion. “Why are you here?”

The moment doesn’t seem real as he crosses the room, joining you on the balcony. Quiet lingers around the two of you as you give up asking for his motive and simply reassume your position at the railing. Maybe you’re too tired or burnt out to care, but as he hesitantly joins you, casting you indiscreet side glances, you offer him the bottle.

A show of camaraderie, perhaps.

He shakes his head, and you take a swig from the bottle, yourself, before setting it back on the low, rusty coffee table.

He fidgets with his hands, turning the ring on his index finger over and over. It clicks with the ring on his other finger, occasionally, resonating an irritating ticking noise.

“Can you stop? What do you want?” You finally outburst, startling him. Alhaitham faces you now, entirely focused on you. But his usual look of casual disdain is gone, and you’re not sure you recognise the man staring at you.

His features bathed in moonlight, his gaze looks softer than it ever had before. The soft breeze brushes his hair across his forehead, and you can’t help but wonder how soft they’d feel to your touch.

“I want you,”

Before you can fully register his reply, he draws you in, one hand reaching around your waist, another reaching softly into your hair, and kisses you.

You fail to register anything at all – all other sensation is irrelevant with the sheer feeling of the warmth of his lips on yours. It feels so wrong, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

It’s intoxicating. He tastes like wine.

He withdraws, expression blank again.

“What?” You utter, and abruptly, as if snapping out of a stance, he flees your room with such rapidity that you have to consider whether or not it was all a dream. As his footsteps echo down the hallway, you run a hand through your hair, tousled by his touch, snatch the bottle from its place and drink deeply.

–

The autumn chill drifts in the air. Other students dawdle about on the lawns, boisterous laughter echoing across the courtyard. Your class sits in solemn silence. You with your ringing head in your hands, and him with his back turned to everyone, focused on the lecture hall’s door.

When you woke that morning, the morning after that, you were insistent on believing that it was a dream. But the empty bottle lying on the balcony and the ring on the ground said otherwise.

You turn the metal ring over in your pocket, running a finger over the miniature inscriptions on the inside.

‘Empathy, the double-edged sword’

You’d been fretting over how to return the ring, avoiding the primary subject on your mind – overshadowed with the return of the test papers.

The minutes tick by in anxious silence until the door bursts open with a professor whose arms are filled with papers.

If it weren’t for the pounding hangover, you’d be laughing at the anticlimactic atmosphere. The professor grumbles under his breath as he hands out the exam papers and results, not offering a general comment on the class’ results.

He reaches Alhaitham, and gives him the pleased look he always gives him. The class launches into whispers of speculation.

The professor’s walk down the aisles of chairs seems like it takes forever, and you have half a mind to snatch the stack of papers out of his hands and wildly search for yours.

Until he stops in front of you.

A slight smile as he hands the paper to you.

“Well done.”

A perfect score.

Over your shoulder, someone announces it to the entire class.

Alhaitham meets your eyes with a soft smile and a nod. A ninety nine is hastily scrawled onto the front page with red ink.

Relief; Your heart and head feel light, but your stomach is filled with butterflies. It should feel liberating, but you’re unsure what – how – to feel. The past few years had led up to this moment, but it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like you thought it would, like the victory you’d hoped it would’ve been.

As quick as it was, your relief is gone, quickly replaced by a sinking feeling of foreboding as you walk out of the classroom, congratulations falling on deaf ears.

–

It’s midnight, again, and you’re awake, tossing another empty bottle into the corner to join the others.

Your roommates were overjoyed for you, they cooked you a celebratory dinner, toasted to your success, and teased you about going clubbing with them that night. Yet you turned them down like you always did, because nothing felt right anymore.

That gaping hole in your heart, previously haphazardly filled with academics, now felt like a great, yawning chasm with no bottom in sight.

Your entire purpose had been fulfilled, and you had a bright future with job offers lying in your emails, untouched, but it didn’t feel complete.

You realised that you lost yourself.

In trying to become better than someone else, you’d lost yourself, and you didn’t know how to find a way back.

“[name], we’re going out, are you sure you don’t want to join us?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

A slight pause. “Okay. Also, your friend from before is at the front door. Should I let him in?”

You vividly recall the intoxicating, wine stained taste of Alhaitham’s lips against your own, the sensation of his fingers tangling in your hair, and his hand bracing your waist on this very balcony. The ring sits in your pocket, the tiny scrap of metal heavier than ever – a burning weight.

“Sure. Send him up here.” You manage.

Melancholic and dramatic were a few of the things you were when you were drunk, but you were also known to have made horrifyingly bad decisions.

You hear your roommate walk down the hallway and down the stairs. You hear the front door open and close. You take the ring out of your pocket and start turning it over in your hands, pacing around your balcony all the while.

A knock on your door, and you snap to attention, waiting a while before weakly calling for him to enter.

The door slowly creaks open, and his silhouette fills the doorframe. He leans against it, seemingly unsure of whether or not to fully enter.

A long silence ensues.

“Are you here to take your ring back?” You start, holding it out.

“Oh. Yeah.” But he doesn’t cross the room. So you do. You walk toward the door, stepping into the light of the hallway as he steps back.

His cheeks are flushed, gaze darting and fleeting.

With more daring than you’d ever displayed, you grab his hand and slide the ring back on, marvelling at his fingers – long, slender, pale. Pretty. A scholar’s hands.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, looking up from your hands, meeting your eyes for the first time.

The soft look is back again.

“Congratulations, by the way.” He starts, removing his hands from yours. “Professor said we were going to share valedictorian.”

You nod, suddenly immensely uncomfortable. “Not surprised.”

He nods as well, seemingly sheepishly, muttering something under his breath that you don’t catch.

“What was that?”

“Kaveh said that if I don’t tell you tonight, he’d tell you himself.”

“Well tell him that I said thanks.”

He rubs his face with his hand, exasperated. “No, not congratulations,”

“Then what?”

He gives you a long look.

“Are you going to stare at me all night?”

“Archons, I don’t know what you do to me.” He takes your face in his hands and brings your lips to his.

It all feels so right. Alhaitham tastes just as intoxicating as he did the first time, only now, there’s a fervour behind his movements. The cherry wine on his lips is exhilaratingly rich. You could get drunk off his taste alone.

His hands boldly move down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin – in return, your hands wander his torso, teasingly skimming the skin beneath his shirt. He shudders, pulling away, although the sheer intensity of his gaze tells you that he won’t be leaving you this time.

“Does that tell you what I'm here to tell you?”

“Might have to explain a little more,” You rasp, catching your breath.

Some sort of restraint within his self control snaps, and he pushes you into your room, locking your door behind you.

In light of what happened after that, you were tremendously grateful that your roommates had left to go clubbing.

–

Neither of you were sure what it was.

The morning after, he’d left before you woke up. Rather than feeling betrayed, you appreciated his absence, as it gave you time to gather your scattered, alcohol imbued thoughts.

It soon became a regular thing, where he’d stop by your shared house – that you’d never given him the address to (although he later explained that he got it from Kaveh) – to see you. It wasn’t always a hook up, sometimes he dropped by in the middle of the day if you were around, and made conversation.

The first few nights, however, were actively avoided. He would always hurriedly change the topic or avoid the question, averting your gaze. But it didn’t matter now – or so you thought – as he sat on your bed, watching you read.

A month ago, you’d have kicked him out without a second thought, but here you were, making idle conversation about something as ordinary as TV shows and work with him while you read.

It felt nice – right. It felt like you’d known each other for years when you were intent on resenting him for your entire college career. It felt so secure that you’d forget why you hated him.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, flipping through one of the novels lying on the bedside table.

“You.”

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. “Of course I am.”

You hit him lightly with your book. “Pretentious little shit.”

“Wounded.” He deadpans, setting the book back down.

“Seriously though, I find it so weird that you’re sitting on my bed and making normal conversation with me when a year ago I’d have given you a black eye if you showed up to my house unannounced.”

He frowns. “Why?”

You level him with a blank stare. “Are you being sarcastic?”

He shakes his head, expression genuine.

“You’re not kidding?” You set aside your book, leaning in. “I hated you, you know that, right?”

“What?” His expression is one of genuine surprise as he takes in the apparently new information. “Since when? Why?”

“You have to be kidding me.” You laugh at the comical nature of it all. “You didn’t know?”

He stares at you, mouth half open in shock. “The whole time?”

You nod.

He lies down on your bed, still digesting the discovery. “I thought…”

“What did you think?”

“Your friends always just said that you didn’t socialise a lot, I thought you just didn’t know how to socialise or something,”

You sit and observe him in silence for a while.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m surprised” he runs a hand through his steel grey hair. “It was so obvious, now that I think about it. How could I have not realised?”

“Your turn. Tell me.” You suddenly say, lying down next to him. “What did you want to tell me the first night you visited me?”

He goes quiet. He’s quiet for so long that you have to check if he’s still awake. His gaze is pointed at your ceiling, the glow in the dark stars there.

“I’ve been somewhat in love with you for the longest time.” He finally admits, voice thick.

“You what?” You sit up, mouth agape. “What the fuck?”

“If you want me to leave, I’ll go.” He says, sitting up as well. “I figured I should tell you eventually, and that time is now.”

Quiet ensues, as it so often does when you’re around each other. Not an uncomfortable sort of quiet – the quiet that speaks louder than words.

You’d both been blind the whole time. You, for your infatuation with him – with beating him, with his person, with his attitude and, though you’d never admit it to him, his looks – and him, with his one sided love for you.

And though you’d both been too near-sighted to see the other person in their entirety, now your cracks are showing. The recesses in his facade of steel, and the fractures in your mask of indifference.

Two puzzle pieces. Pieces that could mould to each other, shaping and weathering with time.

So when he makes to leave, you grab his hand. A silent question. The tension eases from his shoulders, and Alhaitham pulls you off the bed, wrapping you in his arms.

The past few weeks with him have proven nothing but the possibility of loving him. That the hatred that you’d accumulated over months of blind infatuation masked the presence of something far more confronting.

You couldn’t recognise yourself in the mirror anymore. So much of you was missing. But maybe, the two of you could find yourselves in each other.

written by @delat1ne, published 27th of August 2023

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loviatarsluv · 1 month

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chapter ii. cracked ceilings

pairing: Gale x f!tav (my own oc, Elara)

(takes place mostly after the events of the game with some flashbacks sprinkled throughout)

rating: mature

CW: strong language, slight se*ual harassment (just a drunken oaf making nasty comments), blood/injury, light violence, angst

in summary: After the fall of the brain, and her home having been destroyed in the chaos, Gale offers Elara sanctuary with him back in Waterdeep. She struggles to deal with the feelings she has been harboring for him and the guilt that she’d been the one to prevent either of them from taking the relationship any further a few months prior. Yearning and pining ensues

a/n: thank you to those who were so sweet about the first chapter, it really means so much to me 🥹 i hope you enjoy this one just as much ♡︎

word count: 6.8k

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ii.

She had finally begun to understand why they called Waterdeep ‘the city of splendors’.

Since coming to stay with Gale, Elara hadn’t left the tower much. A part of her feared running into any further trouble when she’d just experienced more chaos and turmoil than most would in their entire lives, especially now being known as The Hero of Baldur’s Gate. Despite being here rather than back home, she knew word had likely spread as far as Neverwinter by now.

Gale had been incredibly patient with her, despite his desire to show her around his beloved city. She was boundlessly grateful for that fact despite her guilt for becoming a hermit when he was likely just happy to be home and wanted to enjoy it in its entirety.

She would tell him not to hold back on her account and to do all that he desired with his newfound freedom from the fear of the orb within himself, and that she would be fine right where she was. But she could see in his eyes that he wanted company. Her company.

So, this time, she relented. A simple trip to the market surely couldn’t hurt, right?

She caught the end of a familiar tune as she approached the large open window in her bedroom— a song that she remembered her mother humming absently throughout the day, and then singing to her before bed. One of the last vivid memories she had left of her.

Elara hoped maybe they would pass the bard on their way to the market so she could toss them a few gold pieces.

She gazed out over the expanse of the ocean and hummed along to the song until its eventual end, smiling somberly to herself.

She glanced at herself in the mirror and tried to remember her mother’s face— tried to imagine her own face, just older, but with bright blue eyes rather than dull brown, her hair long, pin straight and black instead of untamable, wavy, and garishly bright.

No. If there was one thing she recalled about her mother, it was that she had the sort of beauty that words couldn’t describe. The kind that scribes and bards scribbled poetry about and sang ridiculous ballads for.

A far cry from how she viewed herself, certainly.

Her long azure waves flowed down her back, partially braided back near the crown of her head to keep some of it out of her eyes. Shadowheart had taught her a few hairstyles to manage and tame her hair, but most of the time she just couldn’t be arsed to put in the effort.

She dusted off some of the robes Astarion ‘purchased’ for her while they were in the Lower City, muttering something about how she desperately needed a wardrobe change. A gift wrapped in a backhanded remark, as could always be expected of Astarion. She smiles at the memory, now suddenly missing him and all of his mischief and hoping he was doing well.

Perhaps she could pay them a visit soon.

The robes were rather lovely— a deep cerulean mixed with accented gold metal clasps and brown leather, the length of it just right so that it doesn’t drag the floor. It suited her well. Astarion really did have a good eye, unsurprisingly. Perhaps in another life he was a tailor.

She takes one last long look at herself in the mirror, the anxiety evident in her eyes as well as the dark circles under them. She’d barely gotten a wink of rest as her mind turned over every possibility of what could happen the moment she steps foot outside of this tower.

Nothing that made any sense or seemed feasible— but then again, a year ago, the thought of a mindflayer invasion seemed like a fever dream.

Now was not the time for what if’s. All would be well. She would have a nice outing with her good friend.

Great friend.

Friend.

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Gale had mastered the art of keeping himself occupied.

He somehow always had something he could be working on or a book he could be reading or a subject he could study further, especially in times when his mind required redirection.

Or distraction, rather.

Spending an entire year in solitude with only yourself, your books, and four walls to keep you company teaches you many things about yourself.

Spending months surrounded by who very likely could be the love of your life without the ability to act on that feeling also teaches you many things about yourself.

There had been many days spent holed up in his library, trying all that he could to keep his mind of anything other than her and her eyes (one a deep, rich brown and the other a much lighter, honey-like shade) and her dazzling smile that made him feel like if the orb were still present in his chest, he would be at risk of implosion just at the sight of it.

Now, to have a proper outing that would finally be just the two of them after months of dropping hints— he was feeling quite restless.

So much so, that he basically leaps to his feet at the sound of her footsteps bounding down the stairs, standing quickly and straightening his clothes before she appears from the staircase, adjusting himself and ensuring nothing was askew or out of place. He smooths his hair, tucking a strand behind his ear and adjusts his sleeves just before she emerges, his heart skipping a beat as he sees her.

He had to remind himself many times that this excursion was nothing more than a quick trip to the market— but it did little to quell the sweat beads rising in his palm and the buzzing in his stomach.

He hadn’t spent a lot of time with her that felt like they were both choosing each other’s company. It almost always felt like they just happened to end up in the same room as each other by chance, or if they did, it was merely to complete a task. To do research, to eat breakfast or dinner, to exchange notes.

If it were up to him, he would remain at her side every moment that her eyes were open and if he were allowed, even those when they were closed.

He was only waiting for the right moment, or any sort of notion that she had perhaps changed her mind— then, he would— well, do something.

Uncharacteristically enough for him, he hadn’t really thought that far yet.

Now may be an apt time to start, though.

“Sorry I took so long, I had to make sure I had everything so we can stock up and last us a little longer.” She says with a huff, gesturing to the two wicker baskets draped over her arms.

He stares at her for longer than was necessary, mouth slightly agape as he took in the sight of her. It wasn’t unusual for her to look anything short of breathtaking, but this had been the most put together he’d seen her since bringing her back to Waterdeep. She looked—

“Radiant,” he mutters, not realizing the word hadn’t remained only in his mind.

She smirks at him awkwardly, looking down at herself. “What did you say?”

He shakes his head, clearing his throat. “I said— I just meant— you look lovely today.”

She chuckles, averting her gaze sheepishly. “Funny.”

“Not at all. I meant it, Elara. You look… you are radiant.” He says, his voice low and reverent, as if he were admiring a painting hung in a gallery.

A blush rises to her cheeks as she tries to fight off what would probably have been the widest she’d ever smiled in her life. “Oh… well, thank you, Gale. You look… dashing. As always.” She replies, the dimples in her cheeks visible as she grins shyly.

“Why, thank you, my lady,” he says with a bow, then holds his hand out as an invitation for hers. She timidly places her hand in his, and he presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “Shall we?”

She’s taken aback by the gesture, her already intense blush only becoming ever more prominent and persistent, the heat in her cheeks beginning to feel as though she may burn up before they even make it outside.

She nods slowly, then follows his lead out the door, her hand lingering in his until they reach the front door steps. She takes a few steps ahead of him and attempts to steady her breathing, as he quickly casts Arcane Lock on the door before rejoining her.

Everything seemed to come alive with a brand new vigor— the streets were full again, the sounds of children running and playing as well as the Waterdhavian locals just existing and enjoying the sunshine for the first time in months echoed off the sides of the stone buildings that lined the streets. The faint melodic strumming of a lyre could be heard not too far from the Dekarios residence, as a bard occupied a spot just outside one of the nearby taverns and busked for coins throughout the day.

They walk side by side in silence for a little while, both of them happily drinking in the sights surrounding them. Gale points out places and bits of interest as they walk, telling her stories of his life growing up on these very streets.

She listens to him, but her mind fills any empty gaps with his voice echoing in her mind again and again.

You are radiant.

Gale was not averse to a bit of flattery, it wasn’t an uncommon behavior for him to compliment her or offer her or anyone else a kind word when it seemed they needed it, and even times when they didn’t.

But something about the phrasing of it struck her. Almost in a way that nearly made her believe it. If Gale Dekarios thought she was radiant, then by the gods, she must be.

No one had ever seemed to look at her twice before in her life— none had ever seen her in that light or verbalized such a thing to her before. Not like that.

But Gale— gods, she’d write it in the stars if she could. She would paint the night sky with each syllable in only the most dazzling of stars, the brightest she could find— so that every night she could remember the way it sounded dripping from his tongue like honey.

A single word had never filled her entire body with a warmth that the sun’s rays could never provide.

Radiant.

“I’m not sure if I’ve asked you yet, but how have you enjoyed Waterdeep thus far? Despite not having seen much of it yet,” He asks, slowing his pace slightly to accommodate her, her legs being shorter than his so her shorter strides made her fall behind.

He had asked, a few times. But that was months ago when it was all still new. Plus— her answer had changed considerably since the last time he asked.

“Hush, you,” She pushes his shoulder playfully, a soft melodic giggle following. Gale’s heart flutters.

“Not to worry. We are remedying that from this day forward. By the time we’re done, you’ll never want to go back to Baldur’s Gate, I guarantee it.” He says proudly, a dash of hope in his eyes as he does.

“I don’t know. Does Waterdeep get invaded by tentacled monsters and completely ravaged by cultists and corrupt politicians and their armies regularly? Might not be my speed,” she teases.

“It is not without its strange happenings, I can assure you. Nothing quite so severe, I am regretful to say.”

“A shame.”

They smile at each other for the length of the lull in conversation, their banter bringing memories of their adventuring days back to the forefront. The gleam in Gale’s eye causes her to look away as if she’d looked at the sun for too long.

After a beat, Gale continues. “But, there is nothing quite like witnessing the changing of the seasons in Waterdeep. I’m happy to provide that experience for you, at long last.” He replies, punctuating it with a wink.

She rolls her eyes and bumps her shoulder to his, averting her gaze to the cobblestone beneath her feet as they continue to walk. “Thank you, for that, by the way. For… letting me stay with you. I know it’s not ideal. I’m sure you would’ve liked to enjoy some peace and quiet in your home after everything… and I don’t know if I have properly thanked you for allowing me to stay with you, so,” she rambles, the heat in her cheeks only increasing.

He places a soothing hand on her arm, his fingertips featherlight as he slowly runs them along the length of her bicep before returning to his side.

“After a year of complete solitude outside of my cat and hundreds of books whose pages I am all too familiar with, your company is more than wonderful and most welcome. No thanks necessary.”

When she meets his eyes, the warm and mirthful smile that greets her nearly turns her legs to jelly, but she would happily melt under the sunshine that was his gaze.

Before she can attempt to craft a response to him, a commotion is heard ahead, and both of their attention snaps to it.

A crowd has begun to form near the front of the nearby tavern, and not a single intelligible word could be made out of the raucous whooping within the crowd of presumably day drunk patrons and bystanders craning their necks to watch whatever was taking place at the center of it. She furrows her brows, shooting Gale an inquisitive glance.

She watches closely for a moment before she feels Gale’s guiding hand on her back, urging her to go in a different direction, any other direction.

“Come, let’s push on. There is no shortage of drunken tomfoolery around here, it’s nothing to concern ourselves with. Besides, Tara will be waiting for us, and trust me when I say she is not the most pleasant when she’s been kept waiting,” he says, his voice low next to her ear. It was a throwaway excuse to pull her away from the ruckus and to safety to avoid potentially getting swept into a hysteria she needn’t get swept into.

If her mind hadn’t been so preoccupied by whatever was happening in front of them, she’d have been blushing furiously at the position of his hand, just above the small of her back. Something to try not to think too much about later.

Her eyes flick to him for an instant before she hears what sounded like a lyre being smashed against the side of the bricked building. Her head snaps in that direction, and the crowd parts in just the right way for her to see a young tiefling crumpled to the ground with his face in his hands, and an older human man above mocking him, gripping part of the smashed instrument in one of his fists.

Her face twists to a deep grimace, and before she can stop herself her feet are carrying her forward, her pace quickening. Gale calls to her from behind, his voice distant and nearly inaudible over the loud pounding and drumming of her heart in her ears.

The crowd has begun to disperse only slightly, but a handful of people still linger and are either cheering on the older man or encouraging the tiefling to stand and fight. The tiefling’s shoulders shake and tremble as he cowers away from the inebriated brute towering over him bellowing nonsense.

The man stands above what she can now see is merely a child, no older than thirteen, shouting taunts of profanity and cruelty that she tries her hardest to disregard before the lightning crackling in her palm can (very easily) send him onto his ass.

She calms herself as she shoves her way through the crowd, taking a breath before she approaches the child and kneels before him.

“Hello,” she says, her voice soft so as to not startle him. She places a gentle hand on his arm, coaxing him into looking up at her. “Are you okay?”

Before he can respond, the booming of the perpetrator’s slurred mockery echoing throughout the small alleyway interrupts them both.

“Oi, missy! Careful, the little foulblood’ll snatch yer coin purse when ye ain’t lookin’!”

The tiefling peers at her with desperate eyes, his flickering flame-like yellow irises beginning to gloss over again as new sobs begin to wrack through his fragile looking body. “I didn’t— I swear, I didn’t do a-anything!”

She searches his face for any sign of deceit, noticing the faint scar that ran along his cheek from his eye to the corner of his lip that looked like it had only healed somewhat recently. His body language resembles that of a frightened pup in a cage and his tears seem genuine, so she offers him a reassuring smile. “I believe you.”

“‘M talkin’ ta ye, missy! Ye got shit for manners too?” The man yells again, the sound of the broken instrument clattering to the ground following it.

She continues to ignore him, entirely unfazed by his drunken tirade or his hulking size. She’d fought monsters far more intimidating in the last year, he would be quick work if it came to that.

“‘Ye think yer too good fer ‘vryone, too good ta’ listen when a man talks ta’ ye.” He rants, her last few strings of patience beginning to wear dangerously thin.

“No, I just don’t care to listen to drunken oafs.” She retorts, her tone nonchalant and almost cocky in a way that sets the man over the edge.

The man launches into a blind rage, and she barely has a second to comprehend the situation before she hears a grunt of fury and large hands crash into the side of her body, surely bruising her ribs with the force it took to shove her to the ground, nearly knocking the breath from her lungs. She yelps as stone scrapes across her bare arm and the side of her head collides with the ground. The tiefling jumps backward and out of the line of fire of the older man’s warpath, eyes wide and boring into hers in terror.

“Elara!” Gale calls out, pushing through the now dense crowd frantically.

He finally makes it through, and the very second his eyes lock on her as she attempts to sit up, fire burns through his veins and concentrates at the center of his palm.

He notices a small trickle of blood running down the side of her face, one hand clutching her ribs as the other presses over the tender spot where her skull met stone. He’s at her side in an instant, gathering her up into his arms and holding on to her tightly.

“Are you alright?” He asks her, his voice cracking with concern.

She bristles, fury flaring within her. Before she can stop herself, her once brown eyes glow blue, the lightning coursing through her burning its way down to her palms. Gale’s eyes widened before scrambling to calm her before causing even more of a scene, despite her ire being well deserved on the drunken man’s end.

“Not here, Elara. Let me handle this, please.”

He places a hand on her cheek, his palm catching a drop of warm blood that makes his boil.

After a moment of contemplation she nods, the anger still evident in her furrowed brow. She glances between him and the child backed against the wall, her main focus still on ensuring his safety. She motions to the child for him to stand with her, and Gale steps in front of them both protectively as he turns to face the drunkard.

“‘S that yer boyfriend, eh, girly? Wanna know how it feels t’ be with a real man?” The man cackles, stumbling forward as he belly laughs at his own vile taunts.

Gale’s own composure is slipping as he feels the heat from the fire itching at his fingertips as it begins to emit a faint and crackling orange glow.

“It may be wise to walk away, friend.” Gale’s voice is threateningly calm, soft with a not-so-hidden edge to it.

The man balks at the wizard, much smaller in stature than himself yet somehow still intimidating in nature. Likely more so intimidating once he realizes who he was up against. Not intimidating enough not to egg them on, however.

The man’s yellowed teeth show in a crooked smile. “Aye… I know the two of ye. If it ain’t the cunt of Waterdeep and the so called Hero of Baldur’s Gate. Softened up since the squids left town, have ye?”

Elara dashes forward before Gale’s arm comes out to stop her, magic surging between both of them like a thunderstorm brewing in the heavens.

“Piss off, ugly. Lest you leave with a scorched hide.” Elara hisses, pushing against Gale’s arm that served as a barrier between them.

“Didn’t think th’ mighty Hero of Baldur’s Gate wa’ just a common whore off th’ streets. Funny, that is, innit?”

Gale’s shoulders tense and his jaw clenches, gritting his teeth to bite back the storm of curses burdening the tip of his tongue. “Walk away. Now.”

His fingers twitch against the effort it takes not to hurl a fire bolt right at the bastard’s cocky face, but it seemed he wouldn’t have to as the man notices the faint glow of fire in Gale’s palm as well as the lightning crackling in Elara’s and begins to back away, apprehension etching into his weathered and sunburnt features, fear visible in his eyes.

“You lot ‘re just as uppity as I thought ye’d be,” he mutters as he raises his hands in surrender, then quickly rounds the corner and dashes down the alley without another word, and the wizard relaxes his hand, dispelling the cantrip from his palm.

The air is still crackling with tension as the three of them try to steady their breathing, Gale in particular finding it difficult as the sight of her on the ground and her sweet face that, prior to this entire encounter, had been adorned with a smile that could stop a charging Minotaur in its tracks, twisted in pain and a gash on her forehead. Not to mention the disgusting comment that foul—

Deep breaths.

The crowd slowly begins to disperse, some eyeing the two wizards wearily as they begin to back away, some pointing at them and whispering to their counterparts, some recognizing them and some inquiring to who they were or what their significance was.

Eventually they, too, depart, leaving only two of them and the tiefling who was still cowering behind Elara, gripping the back of her robes as if he would fall through a crack in the ground without her anchoring him.

Gale spins around and cups Elara’s face gently, his umber eyes teeming with distress and a bit of anger as they scan her face for any further signs of injury or harm. Her eyes still glowed blue despite the situation stabilizing.

“Elara,” Gale whispers soothingly. “It’s over.”

Her eyes meet his as she blinks a few times, until they return to their natural deep earthy tone, sparkling as water burgeons at the corners.

Gods, she has the most beautiful eyes.

“Are you well? Did he hurt you? Is your head okay?” He asks frantically, the words tumbling from his lips in rapid succession as he gently turns her head to check each side of her face.

She swallows hard and tries not to get lost in the way his strong but elegant hands feel on her burning cheeks as he fusses over her, and places her hand over one of his in an attempt at calming his distraught babbling.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she shushes him, placing her other hand on his arm. “Everything is fine.”

Gale frowns. “It is most certainly not fine, you hit your head and you are bleeding. We should head back and clean that up, I’ll just run to the market tomorrow—”

“Gale.” She coos, cutting his rambling short. “You act as if you haven’t seen me in much more dire straits. I will live.”

He stops, his entire body stilling and a heat creeping to his cheeks. Reality washes over him again as he blinks out of his worrisome daze, and realizes his hands still on her cheeks, and her hand over his— oh, hells, her hands are so soft, so warm— and slowly begins to pull away. She nods her head in the direction of the child attached to her hip, reminding him that they had company still. He takes a deep breath and glances around, likely looking to see if he catches a glimpse of that bastard and hoping that he was still within range for him to send a witch bolt his way. He’s unable to hide his disappointment when his search is fruitless.

The child’s eyes widen when Gale turns once again to face them and sighs deeply, his shoulders sinking low when all of the air exits his lungs, his body seeming to shrink with his posture. He slams his eyes shut tight, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking slow and steady breaths to calm himself.

“Mystra, give me strength.” He murmurs under his breath.

Elara ignores the disgruntled wizard at her side, leaning down slightly to be closer to the smaller tiefling’s height.

Elara smiles reassuringly and places her hands on his shoulders. “I’m so sorry about that. Are you okay?”

The child stares up at her, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the man brooding behind her.

“He’s with me, it’s alright.” She says, making her best attempt at a soothing and calm tone despite her voice wavering.

The tiefling’s eyes dart to the wreckage that is left of what was once his instrument, and his frown deepens. “My lyre…”

She follows his gaze, wincing when she sees the extensive damage. She could tell instantly upon inspection even from a distance that there was no repairing it, and it would simply need to be replaced. She offers him a sympathetic smile and a pat on the shoulder. What was once what appeared to be a beautiful instrument, was now shattered into several jagged pieces, sprawling across the ground around them. She frowns, feeling regretful for its owner but also for herself— an echo of a memory from this morning when she heard her favorite song being strummed by it reverberating in her mind.

“What’s your name?” She asks him.

He bounces heel to toe, his hands behind his back timidly. His peach-tinted skin contrasts the dark mop of curls atop his head, with two small horns peeking out of them. He’s quite slender, but still has the tiny bit of pudge that a prepubescent child would have, his cheeks round and youthful. He reminds her of the kids from the Emerald Grove. She smiles sadly, hoping the ones that made it were doing well.

“Dex.” He says meekly, his face downcast and defeated as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dex. I’m Elara, and this—” she motions to the man behind her. “is Gale.”

Gale’s attention snaps to her at the sound of his own name, clearly having been mentally elsewhere during the entire exchange. He meets the uncertain gaze of the child, and bows slightly, offering a warm smile. Dex smiles back, a small chuckle leaving his lips at the gesture.

“Thank you, for helping me. I’m s-sorry you got hurt,” he points to her bloodied forehead and forearm, reminding her of the stinging sensation biting at her nerves shallowly within her skin. Her head was pounding and throbbing, her vision not entirely steady, but she tries her best to disregard it for the moment.

“I think I’ll live. I’m sorry about your lyre.” She says, motioning to the scattered wooden debris and frayed strings.

He shrugs. “I’ll live.”

She chuckles, her smile widening. Gale watches her with this unfamiliar child that she had no real reason to be so kind to, other than just out of the boundless kindness of her heart, and feels that warm twinge in his chest he’d grown all too familiar with since she made her grand entrance in his life. He’d seen her with kids many times now, whether it was with the tieflings or with Yenna, but each time his heart skips several beats and the urge to whisk her away and kiss her on the stoop like he’d previously imagined becomes harder and harder to resist.

“Well, Dex. I think you’d best get going home. It’ll be dark before too long and I’m sure your parents will be worried. Hm?” She tries on her best schoolteacher voice, placing her hands on her hips.

Dex sighs, his entire body shrinking at the mention of his parents. “I don’t want to go home without my lyre… they’ll be furious at me.”

She pauses for a moment, then shoots Gale a pleading glance, hoping he has any bright ideas that could magically fix everything for this poor child. She looked at him as if the child were a lost kitten that she was begging him to let her bring home.

He looks toward the sky pensively for a moment, appearing as if he were doing calculations in his head, then wordlessly and effortlessly waves his hand in a flourish, whispering an incantation that reassembles the lyre with a purple hued fog of weave.

Dex’s widened eyes sparkle with glee as each of the fractured pieces of the instrument rejoin as if they’d never been apart to begin with. The lyre floats toward the child, basked in violet and sapphire light, landing gently into his still shaky grasp. Gale smiles and nods at the boy as the light fades, his eyes gleaming with a hint of pride.

“Weeping bleeding hells! How did you do that?!” He chirps, turning the lyre in his hands and inspecting each and every inch of it in search of any cracks or imperfections, then smiling a wide toothy grin, his pointed teeth peeking over his lips when there is not a single dent or scratch to be found.

Gale chuckles, then pats the boy on the shoulder. “Stay out of trouble, young man. Hopefully next time we meet will be under better circumstances.”

She turns to Gale, impressed. “You have got to teach me whatever the hell that was.”

The young tiefling glances back to Elara, the exuberant expression on his face contrasting the tear stains still present on his cheeks. Before she or Gale have any time to react, he throws his body between them, wrapping his tiny arms around the both of them as best as he could manage, and nuzzling his face into Elara’s arm.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” He says as he pulls away and turns to leave, glancing over his shoulder and waving to them one last time before scurrying off.

She watches the boy disappear into the distance, skipping along the cobblestone streets with a childish glee that fills her with a wistful sensation— to be that young and for everything to be so new, for something as simple as a fixed lyre to make her completely forget any hurt or pain that had befallen her. She envies him, silently, as she watches him run home to his parents surely to regale everything that happened to him today, just as she wished she’d been able to every time something exciting happened to her during the day.

Gale notices her sudden shift in demeanor, then places a hand placatingly on her uninjured arm.

“Elara?” His voice is gentle and tepid. “Allow me to help you with this,” he says, motioning to the still bleeding cut on her head. “Let’s head back.”

She sighs, turning to him but unable to muster a genuine smile, still taken by real memories and those that never came to pass. Her lips curl, but her eyes remain glossy and sullen. She nods, the motion small and nearly imperceptible. Without another word, they head back to the tower, her arm never leaving the comfort of Gale’s hand as they walk.

Something so simple, something that could mean nothing. But to her, it meant everything.

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The scent of balsam and sandalwood fills the room as Gale’s adept fingers gently dab at the small cut on her forehead, his eyes narrowed and his brows knitted together in deep concentration.

He pestered her until he could coax her into sitting in her favorite spot on the chaise where he could tend to her, much to her protest.

Stubborn wizard, she grunted as he gently guided her to sit. He did not regard any of her disgruntled murmurs, nor her insistence that she was fine and not to worry.

Just as she’d helped that boy on the street, he felt the least he could do is take gentle care of her the way she would anyone else. He recalled noticing her attempting to heal herself or patch her own wounds when no one was looking while they were on the road, before eventually having to ask Shadowheart for a quick healing spell, much to her dismay. Had she always had to pick herself up? Had no one ever swept in and dusted her off when she fell before?

He would. From now forward. Even if it were something as small and simple as rubbing balsam on her wounds, however small, and wrapping it with the softest cloth he could find. He would be that for her. He would be anything for her, should she ask.

It wasn’t lost on him how intimate of a gesture it was, to treat another’s wounds, either— he couldn’t deny that he simply just wanted to care for her in a way that felt deeper than just cooking for her and providing a bed for her to sleep in.

“That was incredibly admirable of you, back there. Stepping in like that. That boy won’t soon forget what you’ve done for him.” He says, his tone reverent and almost thankful on the child’s behalf.

She smiles a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Guess the hero gig is one I haven’t quite given up on,” she half-jokes. “He seemed like a sweet kid. And I would hope someone would do the same if it were me, in his shoes.”

She says it, but she realizes that Gale sort of had done the same for her, many times— especially the way he stepped in and deescalated the situation today. The way he stood in front of them protectively, blocking them with his body as if he were willing and ready to take whatever blows were aimed at them in their place.

“He’ll remember you, too,” she continues, her breath slightly catching as he rubs balsam on the still raw and tender spot just above her eyebrow, and wincing as the fabric of the cloth brushes against the raised skin. “You saved him twice, in a way. Saved him from a drunkard and an angry lecture from his parents.”

He chuckles, shaking his head causing a stray strand of hair to fall into his eyes as he does. “I suppose so. You took care of all the heavy lifting, though. I just helped with the clean up.”

She fights herself and her need to push that hair out of his eyes. Would that be too intimate? Would that push things too far?

Her eyes lock on the strand as she speaks. “You did your own heavy lifting, for my sake. Thank you. For stepping in. And for this,” her eyes dart up to his wrist, just as he finishes. “Even though you didn’t have to.”

He places the soiled cloth aside then sits back slightly, where he was still able to see every detail of her face as clearly as he could see his own in a mirror when he was close enough, and eyes her for a moment, a smile ghosting on the edges of his lips.

“To do something for someone doesn’t always have to be borne of necessity or desire for reciprocity. I wanted to.”

His face was so close, she could nearly feel his breath whispering across the flushed skin of her cheeks. She wants to say thank you again, but finds that every single word in her vocabulary has escaped her as she basks in this closeness and the way she can see the reflection of the flickering candle beside her in his dark eyes that still managed to seem so bright with the way they twinkled as he looked at her.

“Can I ask you something?” He breaks the silence but not the tension as their gazes stay locked.

She nods, dazed by the closeness, intoxicated by his presence.

“Back in the Shadow Cursed Lands… when you said that our relationship couldn’t go any further… did you mean that?”

She swallows hard despite her throat feeling dry, her entire body tensing at his questioning. The emotions of the day had fluctuated so immensely and the mention of the thing that had been weighing so heavily on her mind for so long only served to bid them to return in full force. A pit forms in her stomach and she feels the urge to retreat.

“Gale...” She tries to maintain composure, despite her words wavering upon delivery. She offers Gale that same smile from before— the one that never quite reached her eyes. He frowns, but nods.

“Understood.” He says simply, their faces still dangerously close.

“No, no— I don’t mean— I am just not sure if I have the proper words to convey to you. I—” He moves one hand to comfortingly cover hers as it rests on her knee, patting it gently.

“Perhaps it was too bold of a question after such a harrowing day. Disregard it.”

The warmth of his hand and his words radiates throughout her entire body, down to her bones. She notices the strand is still hanging in front of his eyes. She doesn’t hold herself back from brushing it away this time, her fingertips lightly graze his forehead as she tucks it behind his ear. Her hand lingers near his face for a while, but not nearly long enough, before she drops it back to her side.

“What if I said no?” She utters fearfully, her voice betraying her and her moment of courage. “Does that change things?”

Gale balks at her, taken aback by the gesture and her words, quick flickers of shock, trepidation, then elation flashing across his expression. He smiles a smile that sends a shiver through her, his eyes dropping to her lips and the gap between them suddenly seeming so much smaller.

Oh.

It was getting smaller, as she realized that the magnetic pull between their lips was getting stronger as they both began to lean in, her body taking the reins as her mind tried to make sense of what was happening and determine if she were dreaming or not— had she hit her head hard enough to hallucinate?

“Mr. Dekarios?”

The sound of Tara’s voice calling from down the hall cuts the moment short, both of their heads snapping in the direction of the sudden intrusion. Gale sighs, his head falling in evident disappointment. He glances at her, her eyes wide and her cheeks a bright rosy red that makes his heart flutter.

“Gods damn it... I should—”

“No worries, go ahead. I’m going to go rest, my head is killing me.” She waves him off, her voice strained and brimming with disappointment.

Gale stares at her for a moment, the desire to kiss her still lingering but ebbing as he sees her pulling away, suddenly feeling as though he’d done something terribly wrong. He opens his mouth to ask, but before he can she’s standing and quickly darting across the room and into the hall, stopping just at the doorway and peering at him over her shoulder.

She sighs, placing a hand on the doorway and using it for support, her legs feeling as though they may give out on the spot. “Thank you, again.”

He watches helplessly as she disappears into the hall and the sounds of her footsteps fade slowly, preceded by the sound of a bedroom door clicking shut. His eyes pinch shut so tightly that he sees stars amidst the inky blackness behind them, and he sinks back into his chair, wishing a blackhole would form underneath him and swallow him.

He could conjure one, if he wanted to.

He heavily considered it.

“Mr. Dekarios, fix your posture! Your back already aches enough as it is,” Tara admonishes him as she strolls into the room, blissfully unaware of the havoc she’d just wreaked on his sanity.

As per usual.

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There were a surprising amount of cracks in the ceiling above the bed in the room that she stayed in.

Everything else in this tower seemed nearly pristine aside from appearing well lived in and well loved, Gale evidently cared greatly about his surroundings. The home was cluttered but organized to his exact liking, perfectly tidy apart from books and papers and scrolls strewn about but still cozy and comfortable. Anyone who entered would feel at home.

She felt at home, more than she wanted to admit to herself. She tried to continue to remind herself that at some point she would have to leave and move on. But as she lay in this bed— this large, ever so comfortable bed— gaze trailing along the strangely cracked ceiling of her bedroom, she wondered what the ceiling of his bedroom looked like.

She was certain there were no cracks in his bedroom ceiling. There couldn’t be.

Today had been immensely overwhelming in terms of her feelings toward Gale that had once been burning embers and were now alight in full force— him having stoked the flames tenfold with his seemingly innocent touches and his ardent care for her that he put on full display multiple times throughout the day, all culminating in an almost-kiss.

They almost kissed. He almost kissed her.

They were so close. She could still feel the heat of his breath against her cheeks and the skin on the back of her hand tingled with the sensation as if his hand remained there still, his thumb rubbing languid circles against her wrist.

In fact, every part of her skin that he’d touched today still felt as if it had been electrically charged, still buzzing and alight with energy that had nowhere to go. She missed the feeling of him already and it was only a mere whisper of a taste rather than an entire bite.

It wasn’t entirely her fault, obviously, that it never came to pass— Tara had a way of having serendipitously terrible timing. She wasn’t always sure that Tara didn’t know exactly what she was doing, and she wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case this time.

It was endearing, most of the time.

But even if Tara hadn’t interrupted— would she have really kissed him? Would he have really kissed her? Or would some other force of nature and horrible timing pluck them out of each other's grasps yet again?

She thinks maybe he would have. She hopes.

Now, she’s not sure she’ll ever get the chance to.

Guilt began to gnaw and claw at her insides furiously as she remembered the way she’d exited the study— hurried and curtly— and the way hurt and confusion etched into his features as he watched her leave.

She loved him. She knew that she did. There was no way around it. She loved him and it was killing her.

But something always stops her in the moments when she longs to tell him, to finally let him in.

It wasn’t that she was inexperienced in the romance department— she’d had a few partners here and there, nothing substantial and all quite short lived— and if she’s being honest, she had never felt strongly toward a single one of them. Most were kind, loving. She enjoyed their company. But she’d never felt comfortable enough to open up to another person and allow them to see the less than savory bits of her that she kept to herself.

And strangely enough, she felt very comfortable with Gale most of the time— she had to, during all those months traveling together. They all saw each other at their worst and lowest moments, but they supported each other through it all. Gale had been particularly helpful to her amidst her own personal struggles she faced in that time. He had been the closest to her, aside from Astarion and Shadowheart.

He’s an easy person to just exist with. That is, if you aren’t hopelessly enamored with him.

Gods.

She clenches her eyes shut and pinches the bridge of her nose— another habit of Gale’s that she’d picked up— wishing the large quilt and plush mattress beneath her would just swallow her. Just take her away from it all and save her from having to deal with the consequences of her own idiocy.

Knock knock.

“Elara?”

The sound of Gale’s voice on the other side of her door lurches her from her thoughts and her body up from the mattress. She quickly hops off of the bed and approaches the door, her hand hovering shakily over the handle.

“Yes?” She asks, turning her head so her voice appears further away than it actually was.

She hears what sounds like feet shuffling aside from a brief pause, before hearing a long and defeated sigh.

“Can we talk?” Is all he manages, dejection evident in his tone.

She reaches for the handle again, turning it slowly and pulling the door just enough to see him through the crack.

He looked the way he did when something was weighing heavily on his mind or vexing him— she could tell he’d been raking his fingers frantically through his hair as it was uncharacteristically messy and unkempt, his robes were nowhere to be seen, and he stood only in his white wrap shirt that was tied dangerously loosely and tucked into his breeches.

Not now, brain. Not now.

“Everything alright?” She asks, trying to hide the sound of her swallowing the massive lump in her throat.

He shakes his head, placing his hand against the wood grain and gently pushing it, opening it further.

“The very question I came to ask you,” he retorts. “May I?”

She nods, backing away from the door to give him enough room to push it the rest of the way open, her heart thudding a million a minute.

He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his expression nearly unreadable. For as expressive as his eyes were, she had such a hard time understanding him or trying to sort out what mental storm was brewing in his head sometimes.

“I could not bear resting my head upon my pillow and or fathom sleeping a wink tonight without knowing whether I’ve done something to upset you or not. If I crossed any lines today, please do tell me, and allow me to offer my most sincere of apologies for—”

What?

“Gale—“

“—ever making you feel uncomfortable or uneasy in any way, I would never want to jeopardize the friendship that I feel we have formed over the course of this past year and—”

“Gale, hold on—”

“—if I’ve done something to potentially sour anything, just know it was never my intention—“

“Gale!” She raises her voice in a final attempt to catch the rambling wizard’s attention, crossing the space between them and placing her hands on his shoulders.

He takes a deep breath, his shoulders tense and she can feel the way his body trembles slightly.

“Relax, please. You haven’t done anything to make me uncomfortable. Ever.” She coos, rubbing circles with her thumb into his shoulder.

A few days ago, a gesture like this would’ve made her entire being feel as though she were on fire— but after today, it felt right. After receiving such care and comfort from him, the least she felt she could do was to return it in kind.

He stares at her incredulously, as if he simply just doesn’t believe a word she’s saying.

“You don’t have to spare me, Elara. I saw that look in your eyes. I never want to make you feel that way, ever again.” His face softens as he speaks, the pain of potentially slighting her in some way weighing heavily on his chest.

She blinks a few times, then that gnawing guilt returns with even sharper teeth, maybe some claws too. She pinches her eyes shut and releases a long breath from her nose.

“You— you think I didn’t want to kiss you?” She murmurs under her breath.

“I feel as though I keep pushing you and all I’ve done is push you further away.” He responds, the hurt evident in his slightly quivering voice.

Her eyes had begun to burn at this point.

“Gale… it isn’t you. Truly,” she cringes at her own words, realizing how it sounded. “I just— there is a lot on my mind right now, and I don’t want to burden you with any of it. That’s all.”

It wasn’t a lie, at least not entirely. There was a lot on her mind— even if most of it pertained to a certain brown eyed wizard who happened to be standing in her doorway, looking like that.

His eyes find hers in the dim candlelight, searching them for something, anything that could answer at least one of the myriad of questions he wanted to but couldn’t muster the nerve to ask.

The pale blue moonlight filters in through the large window on the other side of the room, almost haloing her and basking her in an ethereal glow.

“It’s not a burden if it’s taken on willingly,” he contests, taking one tentative step toward her. “I care for you, Elara.”

If the room had been any quieter, she swears the sound of her heart booming through the smaller space would be deafening. “It’s not important. You have many other things to concern yourself with, I don’t expect you to—”

“The only thing concerning me presently is—” he pauses. You, is what he wants to say, but can’t seem to wrench it out of himself. “What is important to you is important to me. I meant it when I said that we work better as a team, you and I.”

How this man has not been wed yet, is beyond madness to her.

“Gale…” it comes out more as a plea, as she feels her resolve to maintain composure weakening bit by bit as the conversation continues. She was exhausted, physically and mentally, and her heart had been through enough strain in one day.

His shoulders sink. This was one of several attempts now that he’d made to break down the walls she had built up, and he was beginning to feel more like the villain rather than the hero coming to rescue the trapped maiden from her tower.

“I do apologize. I fear I have overstepped once again. Here may be a good place to leave this conversation for now. I’ll let you rest.” He resigns, his words betraying the sullen expression he held.

“Gale, no, I didn’t mean—”

He holds his hand up to stop her. “It’s quite alright. Get some rest. Goodnight, Elara.”

Before she can stop him, he turns to leave, pulling the door shut behind him.

The room suddenly feels several degrees colder than it had prior to what had just occurred. She feels as though all of the oxygen had been sucked from her lungs and every bit of strength had been sapped from her body within a split second— emotional fortitude included, as tears that had been begging to be shed that she had been neglecting for longer than she could confidently say finally began to fall, slipping down her cheeks and wetting the collar of her night shirt.

Her head falls back as she makes eye contact with the ceiling once again, gaze finding a large crack just above where she stood. It looked fresh, almost. Like it had occurred within the last day or so.

She wondered if he noticed it while he stood in the doorway.

She wondered if he was in his room, staring at the ceiling of his own bedroom.

“Goodnight, Gale.” She whispers into the darkness of the night.

⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊⋆⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊⋆

previous chapter ❥ next chapter (coming soon) ❥ masterlist

(lmk if you’d like to be tagged in the coming chapters :3)

#I love the almost kiss trope I’m sorry 😭#but guys come on just kiss already!!!!!#would that i #gale #gale x f!oc #gale x f!tav #gale fic #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale x tav #galemance #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #my fics

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 6 months

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Would Blanche let me give him head?

Tw: Well, blowjob, seggs, description of bullying, cum eating, violence

Short answer, Yes. Long answer:

You would have to win him over, though. He's ridiculously shy when it comes to anything outside platonic love and attraction. As charming as he is, Blanche actually never had anyone express genuine desire to bed him. He was by no means ugly, but his whimsy and quaintness made others label him as this unromancable, unfuckable weirdo.

Blanche is almost as if he has a built in magnet for bullies, the closest to a love confession that he got was when the people around him dared each other to ask him out, as a joke. It's funny to them because Blanche is not at all an eligible candidate as a bachelor. The idea of sleeping with him is humorous, hilarious, even. They weren't laughing anymore when all of them experienced the metallic taste of his brass knuckles driven deep into their skulls.

He experienced this treatment for the majority of his life, following him all the way to adulthood and even during his time living as a hermit in his cottage. They just can't fuck the old man and they kept tormenting him because of it.

He yearns to be the romantic gentleman he would see in love films, he yearns to be treated like someone valuable like a protagonist of a steamy romance novel. Alas, he was hurt and used for so long, that he blocked that longing out entirely from his mind, to save him from the unavoidable heartbreak. Unfortunately, even when he is expecting nothing, he still gets let down.

It's not a surprise that he's wary with the notion of romance and erotic attraction. It's already drilled into his being that he isn't desirable carnally. It's an automatic no to anyone who thinks it's a great idea to 'prank' him again.

But you... you're different. You're so special and so lovely to him. Bringing up the idea of sucking him off made Blanche freeze in place momentarily, letting all those horrible, horrible memories flood back in. However, he reminded himself that you wouldn't hurt him, you're his beloved friend. His only, one true friend. It should be okay, right?

He's apprehensive at first, but with enough patience and convincing, you could make him sit down at least. Blanche would drape his hair over the back of his chair, letting it pool on the floor. He would nervously bite on his thumb as you slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers.

Blanche felt like his heart is about to beat out of his chest, how could it not? The only person he loves is on their knees at his crotch level, offering to do something so dirty, something unthinkable. Yet so... intimate.

You would stop when you saw him crying, eyes red and wet. His eyebrows would be knitted together and his lower lip trembles in anticipation. Upon asking what's wrong, he would break out into a sob, covering his shameful face with his hands. He would grow hot and his ears would resemble hot embers, he is so, so ashamed.

"I-I'm sorry, my darling. I'm just- I'm Just... embarrassed." And it was too overwhelming for him to see a growing bulge on his crotch, he had never felt this vulnerable before. Not even after being called all kinds of derogatory slurs by hundreds of people in real life and online. This is a different type of humiliation that somewhat felt nice, because it was with you.

He would draw in the sharpest gasp and widen his beautiful, deep blue eyes when you took him in your mouth. Swirl your tongue around his length, let it touch the back of your soft and slimy throat and enjoy the delicious whines, whimpers and mewls that would escape his mouth.

His moans would be like music to your ears, it's so pathetic and needy. Blanche would have his fingers tangled within your hair, not to force you against his length, but to try and slow you. You would bob your head up and down, occasionally catching a glimpse of his messy, teary face. It almost seems like he's in excruciating pain, but whenever you stopped to ask him if he's hurting,

"No! N-no, not at all. It felt so good, I-I can't describe it. It felt so good..." Drool would drip down from the corner as he watched you with a daze. He would let out a cry when you went back to mouthing his throbbing cock, leaked with excess amounts of precum.

Blanche would convulse as if you passed electricity through him, his eyes would roll back into his skull as he's overcome by immense bouts of forbidden pleasure. His fingers would grow weaker and weaker, at one point even slipping off your head and dangling limply on his sides. More tears, mucus and drool would streak down his once clean and dignified face.

At his climax, his entire body would contract and Blanche would let the loudest, most lewd, most improper moan rip out from his vocals. His copious amounts of cum would take you by surprise as it fills you up to the brim, it's so powerful that some would come out of your nose if you didn't open your throat properly before blowing him.

It will take him half a minute to unload everything, making a mess all over your neck, chest and floor. It would almost look like the bedroom is flooding with semen, some even got soaked up by his curly hair nearby.

It will take another few seconds to recuperate, slowly snapping out of this euphoric bliss that he experienced for the first time in his lonely, lonely life. You would be wiping your eyes to remove the cum that temporarily blinded you.

"O-oh! I'm truly sorry, darling..." He would lean forward, cupping your cheeks and helping you clean your face up from decades of pent up frustration and desperate yearning. "I'm so sorry... oh, look at you. I'm terribly sorry for this..." He would frown, now being brought to tears due to guilt. He would be flicking as much of his semen away from your face. Blanche noticed that you're still holding quite a substantial amount between your tongue and teeth, he would bring a cupped hand next to your chin, expecting you to spit it out.

"My dear, don't-" He would be wide eyed when you decided the remaining load in your mouth, grinning happily and even showing that there is nothing in your mouth. Blanche could only dream to have the tomatoes growing in his garden to be as scarlet as his face right now.

Because of his clean diet, his jizz actually tasted... nice? It's mildly sweet and has a very mild smell to it. It's smooth, creamy and generally pleasant to eat.

"You..." He would be at a loss of words as he processed what you did. Upon realizing what the implications are, that you have a part of him inside you willingly, and in unimaginable amounts too... His cock would find a new burst of energy to spurt one last load of cum, soiling his trousers, chair and your face again.

He would then cry out apologies before hastily wiping away more spunk away from your already painted countenance.

You had to assure him that you're okay, you enjoyed it too, only then he will let out a shaky sigh of relief before looking you with eyes filled with so much love and adoration. He quickly tucks his member back into his underwear and zipped it out of sight, before it could do further damage,

"Thank you, my love. Thank you..." He leans forward to press numerous kisses onto your face, initially not caring that he's also coating his lips with his spunk. Only when it seeped into his mouth did he cringe and shudder.

"Ah, icky." Blanche would laugh, and so would you. He nuzzles his nose against yours and continued giving you kisses while you kneel in front of him.

His eyes would land on the disaster that he created while ejaculating, darting from your drenched form to the floor, and to his soiled hair too. Blanche would nervously chuckle while trying his best to wipe your face using the napkin he tucks into his other breast pocket. "Yucky, yucky." He would mumble lightheartedly to himself while he stares at you with the brightest twinkle in his downturned eyes.

"You're such a blessing to me, I love you." He whispered, urging you to come and sit on his lap, despite knowing that he would get his cum onto his waistcoat too. He tries his best to clean you up, but it's already staining everything. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

He would love you up in his arms, showering you with praises and kisses for hours if you let him. You would be as giggly as him, as his fluttering lips would be ticklish. In the end, he would bury his face in your shoulder while he holds you close.

"I'm sorry I made such a mess. I got a bit too excited, y-you made me feel things I never felt before. It was... It was so good. I-I don't know what to say except thank you." He would murmur softly before you felt a certain dampness on your clothes, he's crying again.

"You're so good to me, my rose. You're my one and only, I love you." Blanche then presses a long, tender kiss on your lips. You close your eyes and he closes his teary ones, both of you melting into each other and enjoying the warmth.

He would slowly pull away and tenderly massage your jaw, it must have been straining when you did that for him. He isn't one to brag about his size, but he could clearly see that he was too big for you.

"I can't express enough how grateful I am. You're such a wonderful angel in my sad, sad life... How could I ever repay you, my love?" He caressed the side of your face, occasionally picking out hair that clung to your skin. "Would you like me to..." He trailed off, looking away embarrassed.

You got what he meant, you said yes. But only if he's comfortable with it.

"Of course, I am, my dear." He pressed his cheek against yours, hugging you as if you're his beloved stuffed toy. "But... I'm not, I don't- I don't have much experience doing such things."

He held your face and looked into your eyes, you could see uncertainty and nervousness swirling in those ocean blues.

"Will you teach me, darling? I would love to please you too. You have shown me a world that I couldn't even dream of experiencing. I am forever indebted to you and I-I'm having a hard time coming up with methods to show you my unyielding gratitude."

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere concept #oc blanche #tw sex #tw oral

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bridgetoesoteria · 8 months

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Soul Snatchers Delight: 18+ 🔥 Who have you left your mark on?

I know some of you freaks have been waiting on this one. Let's see what energy comes out. I'm functionally lit and ready to diiive in.

Also, no TL;DRs on this one so be prepared to read 🤓. Your nasty asses requested this so you are gonna read it! And you're gonna like it!

Options left to right. See you at your pile 💋

Pile 1

Off the bat: So right away, I am getting that this is someone that really had a lot of passion and fire for you. I'm listening to How You Want It by Teyana Taylor (if u haven't listened please go do that asap) and it always gives me the impression of a younger man that wants to prove he can satisfy his partner. Like yeah maybe you have more experience or age but I bet I can still teach you some things.

So this could have been someone that you were more mature than. This could be in terms of age, emotional maturity, or status. You may have initially dismissed this person.

4 Card Spread: 2 of Wands, Page of Wands, Page of Swords/The Hermit, 9 of Wands. Bottom of deck is The (High) Priestess.

So for the spread I asked, "who have you left your mark on." I wanted to get descriptors for this person. Take it however it resonates, in case some of the roles need to be flipped. So right away, I am again getting the vibe that this person may have been younger or more emotionally immature. Or this could have been someone you dealt with when you were younger and less mature and now you have kind of outgrown them.

With so many defensive and no communication cards here--the priestess, the hermit, page of swords, 9 of wands--I don't think you are speaking. This person may feel kind of scorned by you. The page of swords is also a card I get when someone feels offended/defensive because harsh words were said. I don't get the sense that they are good at processing their own emotions. You may have taken a break so you could each find yourselves again. I do think this person is trying but it is completely new to them.

I do think they feel defensive towards you and like they have to guard themselves. They are trying to look toward the future in terms of their life and figure out what direction to take. They are only at the planning/pondering stage. This could be part of why everything fell apart. There was no longevity, this situation was leading to nowhere. When it comes to 18+ readings, the page cards always give me a kind of in and out, fuckboy energy. They may not mean you any harm but they go about it in a mostly self-serving way. They can talk a good game.

A little bonus...

How Have You Left Your Mark?

9 of Wands, The Hierophant, The Sun, The Chariot. Bottom of Deck is The Empress.

I think your boss bitch attitude was surprisingly a turn on for them. Maybe they have never been "put in their place." I am using the Ceccoli Tarot Deck. I feel like its imagery helps me tap into certain energies better. The Sun card in this deck always makes me think of Queen Bee/HBIC vibes. Like a woman that is able to command a room and probably could have a lot of people eating out of the palm of her hand. The Hierophant card always gives me the vibe of a guy pleading for forgiveness or to be able to get a blessing for a third party situation.

So some of you could have dealt with that in some way. For others, they may have been submissive towards you. They would probably do anything to have you forgive them just to be let back into the gates of heaven once more lol. Like they are really feigning. You ignoring them makes them resentful and jealous but they can't help but yearn for your attention.

I think the way you feel above them brings out a competitive side. I think they really liked your hips. I think they have a lot of admiration for you. The things that make you guys different is what replays in their head. Communication was a factor in some way. This person may have struggled to communicate on your level. Maybe in the end they just couldn't satisfy you and they see it as a betrayal that you moved on.

Pile 2

Off the bat: This pile is giving me an indulgent vibe. Like you and this person would steal away to just have moments by yourself. You may have been very physically affectionate. I'm not sure if you displayed PDA but in private you were definitely loving on each other.

Someone could be into art and books or Harry Potter. This person may still be physically around you.

4 Card Spread: 2 of Swords, Ace of Wands, The Hanged Man, Justice. Bottom of deck is 5 of Swords.

For some of you this may be the person you are currently with or someone you are on break from. This person does have a lot of feelings for you and may have told you or you already know. I don't think you are speaking. So you may have gotten into a fight and for someone reason, not talking to each other seems like the right thing to do. I do think they are contemplating a new start with you, with the ace of wands.

I just clarified and it was the same message over again. Either this person has made it clear they want to be with you and you are now contemplating their offer or this is what they want to do. I'm not quite sure why things have ended or what the argument was about, but this was only meant to describe the person. So, I hope this description was specific enough for you to know who it is.

A little bonus...

How Have You Left Your Mark?

Knight of Wands, 4 of Swords, Ace of Wands, King of Pentacles/The Star. Bottom of deck is The Emperor.

So once again, I am getting the vibe that this is someone that is known to you and you probably recently dealt with. I think you guys probably had crazy chemistry. Whether you feel this way or not, this person thinks you have crazyy head game. Like they literally can't get it out of their head.

In some way, being with you is an ego boost. I don't get that its in a gross, objectifying way (unless you know that's how this person is). Its more like they feel quite dominant, and masculine, and confident when they are with you. So maybe you are very feminine and allow them to take the lead. You may be very coy and a bit aloof and it makes them feel challenged. It gets their blood pumping and taps into their primal urges.

With the death card right under the emperor, followed by the tower, I think you probably gave this person some of the strongest orgasms they've ever had. They view being with you as transformative. Whew 😳 no wonder they can't let you go.

It seems like their overall connection to you was quite transformative, whether you know or not. This person may try to hide how they feel on the outside, but on the inside they are SHOOK. Like fr fr. They are starting to reflect on their actions and the way their childhood and their relationship with their parents has shaped who they are. I think they are coming to a crossroad where they have to decide if they are going to go for the life they really want or keep living out these toxic patterns. You have shown them that they have work to do and this sticks with them.

Pile 3

Off the bat: I am getting a much lighter energy in this pile. Some of you may literally be blonde. This could have been some kind of summer or vacation fling. It was probably a mostly good time. You could have known this person when you were younger. I'm seeing someone that has a rounder face. People have described you as having "baby fat." Totes adorbs.

4 Card Spread: 4 of Pentacles, Violin Girl, Ace of Wands, Ace of Cups. Bottom of deck is Strength.

I am using the Muppet Bear Tarot for this question. This deck has some bonus cards that are not in the traditional tarot deck. AFAIK these cards don't have any names, so I just made up names based on the imagery.

So I do think you are mostly on good terms with this person. I think that you want to be with each other and you may be already. If not, one or both of you is refusing to let your emotions pour out. But you do have a good time together. You may go on adventures together. I have repeatedly gotten the image of a boardwalk. So that may mean something to you. I think that your souls just click in a way you can't quite articulate. I think you are definitely aware of you feelings while this person may prefer to express emotion through passion. How cliché, I know.

Someone could owe the other an apology, but it does not seem like that is happening. I'm not sure if this will last long given how many positive cards are here.

A little bonus...

How Have You Left Your Mark?

The Devil, Page of Cups, Queen of Pentacles, 5 of Cups/King of Pentacles. Bottom of deck is The Hierophant.

OMG! I had to calm this person's energy down so it could focus and actually get a message out lol. The deck kept "exploding." Multiple cards would come flying out. wooow. So this person may be crazy about you. I don't think they hide it. They like how ladylike you are but still so seductive! You have surprised them with the hold you have over them. They don't even have time to decide whether they're okay with that or not because they're too busy begging for more.

All of this energy and restlessness is kinda driving this person cuckoo. They feel very possessive over you. You are theirs. I don't think you just hand yourself over. You may pull their strings but pretend like you aren't. Or maybe you really don't realize this person perceives you in this way. Even when you argue, they don't even want to let you go in anger. With the queen and king of pentacles combo, I think they feel like they have met their match with you.

I think this person has found a good partner in you. Some of you may already be in a commitment with this person. They think you make a great team. They feel safe with you. They have to learn how to compromise. Sometimes being a team player means having your teammates back even if you're if you don't see eye to eye on everything. They are really exploring what it means to be in a connection, to be in love, to be a good partner. You really make them go deep so you are always on their mind.

Pile 4

Off the bat: I am getting a very strong work vibe. This may be a colleague. I think you were more or less on the same level. They may view you as serious. I think they stare at you a lot and try to figure out what you are thinking. They want to understand you on a very cerebral level. I think a lot of you may be older so like mid-20s at the younger end of the spectrum.

4 Card Spread: The Empress, Knight of Pentacles, 9 of Wands, Knight of Cups. Bottom of deck is Big Bear, Little Bear.

Okay, so after pulling these cards, I almost want to walk back what I said about you both being on the same level. This person seems way more immature than you. You are showing up as the empress, while they are showing up as knight after knight. Even this "big bear, little bear" card gives the vibe of a maturity difference or taking responsibility for another person. For others of you, one or both of you may be parents. The immature energies I keep picking up on could be children. So this person may have kids.

I don't know if you are really entertaining this person. For some of you, this may have been a one night stand. For others, you may have gotten involved with them only to realize they were not who you expected. Their energy feels so unserious. This person may irritate you cause I'm starting to feel annoyed. Its like something is not clicking for them. They want you to accept their offer, even though it is not enough for you.

I don't see that they have any nefarious intentions but their best is nowhere close to what you deserve. Its good but its not enough. This person finds you extremely attractive and respectable. I think they will continue crushing on you, even if you are not on the best terms.

A little bonus...

How Have You Left Your Mark?

Page of Pentacles, Page of Swords, 3 of Pentacles, Judgment. Bottom of deck is Page of Wands.

Again, there is a lot of immature energy coming through. The only page missing is the page of cups. So perhaps you knew this person when you were younger. I think the connection you shared with them changed them in a fundamental way. Pages can symbolize new starts and seeds that have recently been planted.

They probably learned a lot from you, in and out of the bedroom. They explored so many different aspects of themselves but then it just stops. So maybe the relationship ended abruptly. Your boundaries really caught them off guard. Your intelligence, your drive, your evolution. They are very very attracted to you. They could really want to "possess" you. They probably had/have to work really hard to get your attention and to hold onto it. I think the fact that you are so much of a challenge is what sticks with them the most. Like a puzzle that they are endlessly trying to solve. You know how some people carry around rubik's cubes trying to solve them, that's this person with you.

Honestly, some of you may not have been with this person in that way. The rejections do not deter them. I don't even think they believe you are playing hard to get, they know you are hard to get. They want to impress you. They want to be good enough. They don't realize this obsession with you is something personal. They need to unpack why they're fixated on you, instead of trying to figure you out. You're just doing your own thing. If they can't go inward and work on themselves, then they will never be the kind of partner you would desire. I guess they haven't solved that part of the puzzle yet.

This pile was a doozy. I hope it resonated.

#tarotcommunity #pick a card #tarot reading #oracle cards #pick a pile #tarot #18+ readings #18+ pick a card #intuitive readings #pick an image #18+ tarot

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lakia-chan · 1 year

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Science & Faith

A parallel case study of how Alhaitham is like in love.

pairing: alhaitham x gn!reader

contains: fluff, stream of consciousness

word count: 722 words

a/n: i feel that most people either write alhaitham as loving rationally or irrationally and stick with it. but i love exploring both sides depending on my mood lol. (also yes the title is a rip off of The Script) ANYWAYS!! my very first fic!! i haven't properly written since i was like 12 so here's my debut i guess lol. i wanna take requests but felt that i needed to write something first y'know? my blog is kinda empty right now so just ignore and feel free to send in anything or interact!!

Your existence is a phenomenon.

Scientifically, you check all the boxes. Your unparalleled beauty that would make the divine envious, your pleasant demeanor that makes the coldest hearts thaw, and your soft gaze that engulfs your target.

Despite all his flaws and yours not, you've decided to grace him with your affections and time. The one in a million idyllic scenario that he concluded was only theoretically possible.

He's knowingly a rude, uncaring hermit that grimaces at the grievances and noise of the people that surround him. Yet, you have never once been the subject of his ire. Somehow, you're never too loud, never too proud and always so understanding of his disposition. It's as if you’ve cracked the code that is him, a skillful balancing act of not too much and not too little. Everything there is that makes up you compliments him, from the melodious inflections of your voice, your easy gait and the click of your heels, to the things that pique your interest that you speak so passionately about. You neither annoy nor bore him, something he’s unused to.

You're the missing piece in the complicated puzzle of his life, something he didn't even know he yearned for until your arrival. You fall into place easily, with all his awkward corners and sharp protrusions.

It just feels so right. You just feel so right.

You've jump started his heart into life, something he didn't think would happen in this lifetime, and it truly feels as if he was created solely to meet and love you.

The people of Sumeru City mourn the fact that you've decided on him out of all your potential suitors. And his own personal friends wonder about the intricacies of the seemingly odd pairing.

He feels quite the opposite. You decode all the errors of his mind, turn the negatives into positives. It's as if you're the missing variable in the formula, and the perfect solution you and him. To him, it is inconceivable that he could be with anyone other than you.

He will continue to love you so, because rationally, you just make sense.

Your existence is an anomaly.

Despite all the empirical evidence that you're just so wholly different from him and that he should find no reason to, he loves you.

Your charming image, the twinkle in your eyes, and the teasing lilt in your sinful cadence mess up the neat lines in his head, break the code in the already failing system that is his heart before you. Until the only thing that makes sense is you, loving you.

There's nothing to decode, to analyse, when it just feels so right in the depths of his chest to be with you. It's unfathomable that something that feels this right could be wrong.

Unknowingly, he has accepted you and your anomalies into the ecosystem of his mind. Thoughts of you become entangled in the web of information and pure logic he operates on. You become part of the algorithm. You're a part of him, mind, body and soul.

Now, your smile that sends his heartbeat into overdrive is part of the procedure, the tips of his reddening ears an expected outcome when conversing with you.

It's absolutely ridiculous.

It's decidedly bad for him, with the way he humiliates himself in your presence and throws caution to the wind when you're concerned. Terrible for his reputation too, might he add, with how he indulges in nonsensical mannerisms to please your whims and ignoring his ethos of order and rationality.

The people of Sumeru City constantly speculate how a mismatched pair came to be, scrutinising his actions and concocting wild assumptions. Even his own personal friends are in doubt, how far does the cliché of opposites attract truly go?

Truthfully, he feels the same. You've made the man who functioned on logic and numericals crumble at your feet, ensnaring him in the trap that is you. He's a man gone insane, having consumed the forbidden knowledge of loving you.

You're a curiosity to him, the way you've made him experience and embrace the irrationality of human nature. Under your guidance, he now believes in something as superficial as fate and coincidence, rather than calculated chances and statistics.

He will continue to love you so, because irrationally, you just make sense.

strictly do not repost or plagarise my works on any social media platforms. likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!!

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #alhaitham x reader #lakia.writing #hsr.writing

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ad-hawkeye · 7 months

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Lovebrush Chronicles: Tarot Cards

So, me and a few others on the Lovebrush Chronicles Discord server were talking about tarot cards, and which ones would fit the main characters best. A huge thank you to the Lars and Clarence fans for spitballing ideas with me for them! Now, the alternate versions of the characters would have different tarots than their modern versions, so for the sake of this post, I'll be focusing on their modern versions, and the general ideas behind all of their alternate selves.

Ayn Alwyn: Death

UPRIGHT: end of cycle, beginnings, change, metamorphosis REVERSED: fear of change, holding on, stagnation, decay

There are three tarot cards that deal with the idea of change. The one I felt fit Ayn the most was the Death tarot. Ayn finds it hard to let go of his past - all versions of him. So, while Ayn is often forced into life changing situations, it's at a great expense. He has to let go of his past, his walls, and his routine to move on.

Alkaid McGrath: The Fool

UPRIGHT: beginnings, innocence, spontaneity, a free spirit REVERSED: holding back, recklessness, risk-taking

Alkaid also has one of the tarot cards representative of change: The Fool. While the other cards signify great difficulty or strife in achieving this change, The Fool tells of someone who willingly jumps head first into the unknown with an open mind. Alkaid yearns to see the world, and to push his limits, even at great risk.

Lars Rorschach: The Sun

UPRIGHT: joy, success, celebration, positivity REVERSED: negativity, depression, sadness

The Sun tarot is one of connecting with your inner child. It is one of optimism and positivity. Lars is a character who has worked long and hard to get where he's at. He's never had the chance to let loose and be himself until finding success. While he is a realist who is well aware of the bad in the world, he finds joy in the little things he never got to do in his youth.

Clarence Clayden: The Hierophant

UPRIGHT: tradition, conformity, morality, ethics REVERSED: rebellion, subversiveness, new approaches

The Hierophant represents an established set of rules and values. As a law student, Clarence seeks to use these established systems to one day make the world a better place. However, not all good can be achieved under these restrictions. Clarence is willing to go against the grain if he believes it is for a good cause.

Cael Anselm: The Moon

UPRIGHT: unconscious, illusions, intuition REVERSED: confusion, fear, repressed emotion

While The High Priestess is a card of spiritual enlightenment, The Moon is a card of emotional enlightenment. It is also a card of illusion. Cael is initially an incredibly deceptive character; he is not what he seems. Likewise, the same could be said for his emotions as he navigates his repressed feelings for the Little Painter.

Little Painter: The Hermit

UPRIGHT: contemplation, search for truth, inner guidance REVERSED: loneliness, isolation, lost your way

And finally, we get to our main character, the Little Painter. The Hermit indicates a search for answers; The Little Painter discovers a lot about herself and her past, as well as the nature of the universe and her role in it. She seeks the truth in each world, despite the loneliness her knowledge and position impose upon her.

#lovebrush chronicles #ayn alwyn #alkaid mcgrath #lars rorschach #clarence clayden #cael anselm #little painter #long post #ofc this is just a very very brief summary and i didnt include all of my reasoning here #so i'd totally recommend looking into the tarots for your favs and reading about them!!#each card has several interpretations and you might find something interesting about them!! :)

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mochiwrites · 6 months

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I know u said u weren’t sure about including life series since angst and all, but let’s just think of it like silly fun lil games no watchers just Extreme Roleplay and none of the forgetting stuff.

3rd life happens and THATS what convinces the hermits that scarian are horrendously down bad for each other and just physically incapable of flirting in a normal way, — even though the whole monopoly mountain thing is purely because scarian are both over the top dramatic little bastards /pos — so they start trying to brainstorm ways to knock their heads together and get them to confess because “we’ll be in season 30 before those two idiots even try to confess to each other, we must intervene so we can stop watching their painfully obvious yearning”.

And they are just soooooo so so so wrong about everything lmaoo.

a good point has been raised 👀

I think I’m looking at the life series as like… psychologically, this has weight on all of them, right? whether the watchers were involved or not, there’s still some… repercussions that would follow the games in terms of mental states etc etc (you’ve unlocked the psych minor, I’m so sorry for the rambling that’s about to occur)

from like, an in world stand point, the hermits (and empires peeps) are used to living in a world with limitless respawns, right? so now you take those players, and chuck them into a world where hey. your lives aren’t limitless. your deaths have meaning now, so you have to make the most of every life while you can. that alone is going to be something pretty jarring. going from a world where death is something to be shrugged out to a world where you could be permanently taken out by someone you consider a friend? eesh

even from a roleplay stand point (coming from someone who Has done a fan version life game before), the roleplay aspect will still impact them. those deaths and betrayals are still going to leave a mark. and what happens in the games will follow back home. there’s still a very real weight being put on all of them and it’ll be affecting them psychologically

and esp for scar and grian… the life games would be very, very hard on them. the trauma Would still be there to a degree, roleplay or not y’know?

now don’t get me wrong I love the image of these two being dramatic little shits with monopoly mountain LMAO. because it’s very them! but from a narrative standpoint, and as a writer who very carefully considers the emotional impact of something that life altering… I’m leaning toward it just not existing in this universe. at MOST maybe third life, because damn I do love me a pair of husbands trying to conquer the world together WHEEZE

long rambling aside, yeah. yeah the hermits are doing their best but they are so incorrect DBFBFHRGRG

#mochi speaks #secret husbands au

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pookasluagh · 7 months

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Chapter 10 is up! This one gets dark (SH, panic attack, accidental deadname) so please tread carefully!

Fic description: Zee (Aziraphale) Marsh is a widowed hermit who secretly writes bestselling romance novels under the pseudonym Bella Swansea. His life is rigorously controlled until his new downstairs neighbor arrives. Anthony Crowley causes something to come alive in Zee that he hasn't seen in over twenty years, but Crowley brings with him some of his own very dark secrets.

Teaser from Ch 10:

An image blossomed in his mind. Sitting at his desk in front of the typewriter, a cup of tea at his side, squinting in spite of his glasses at the page as he considered the right words to use. On the other side of the room, Crowley sat in an armchair in nothing but his boxer briefs, his hair still mussed from sleep. He had a leg flung up over the chair’s arm, and he drank a strong cup of properly-made coffee. His whole attention was focused on the mobile in his other hand.

There was nothing erotic about the fantasy—the two of them weren’t even interacting with each other—but the intimacy of the scene bowled Zee over. He yearned for it. He wanted…ordinary with this man.

“What are you smiling at?”

Zee hid his face in Crowley’s chest, taking the opportunity to breathe in the scent of his skin. “Nothing. Just you.”

“Hmm. Well, I like you, too.”

Crowley reached out to stroke his hair. Zee caught his hand after a moment and held it, kissing the delicate bones at his wrist. Incredible things, hands. Whole networks of dexterous muscles and sensitive nerves. He wrote romance novels. How had he never noticed how much poetry could be contained in the tendons of an inner wrist or a stray freckle nestled in hair so fine it was almost invisible?

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens fanfiction #crowley #aziraphale #fanfiction #good omens fic #gomens #good omens au

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princess-sof-time · 1 year

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I wanna request headcanons for Yuk,Kyo and Momiji sohma with a s/o who know much about the mystic/sobrenatural side of Japan (like ancient Legends and myths,rituales and spirits/yokai and kami,haunted places and rituals/) and it's conscious about the zodica say this "when all the zodiac,Even the cat,the rat and the god are together at the same time the cycle finished", please

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ──────

🅈🅄🄺🄸 🅂🄾🄷🄼🄰

• Yuki Sohma, initially captivated by his S/O's profound knowledge of Japanese folklore and the supernatural, finds himself delving into a world that he had only scratched the surface of before. Their ability to provide historical context and explain the significance of rituals, legends, spirits, and yokai enthralls him, igniting a deep intellectual curiosity within him.

• Engaging in conversations with his S/O about ancient myths and legends brings Yuki immense joy. Together, they immerse themselves in the symbolic meanings behind different spirits and yokai, weaving connections between these entities and their own experiences within the Sohma family. Through their discussions, they gain a deeper understanding of themselves and their shared connection to the supernatural realm.

• When Yuki's S/O introduces the concept of the completion of the zodiac cycle and the potential end of the curse, Yuki's mind is set ablaze with introspection. He starts questioning the origins of the curse, searching for answers to the mysteries that have entrapped him and his fellow zodiac members for far too long. His desire to find a way to liberate themselves from the eternal cycle intensifies.

• Yuki and his S/O embark on a dedicated journey of extensive research, immersing themselves in ancient texts and seeking out individuals who possess specialized knowledge in the supernatural realm. They become avid scholars of Japanese folklore, exploring different avenues of study and unearthing hidden knowledge. Their shared dedication to unraveling the secrets of the curse becomes the driving force behind their research.

• As Yuki delves deeper into the supernatural world, he begins to question the very fabric of his existence. He yearns for freedom from the eternal cycle and actively seeks ways to break the curse that has bound him for so long. His S/O becomes his partner in this quest, offering unwavering support and motivation.

• Their research takes them to the far reaches of ancient texts, unearthing forgotten rituals, and seeking out individuals who possess specialized knowledge. They meet wise elders, encounter reclusive hermits, and engage in profound discussions with fellow enthusiasts of the supernatural. Each encounter brings them closer to uncovering the secrets that may hold the key to breaking the curse.

• Through their shared dedication and thirst for knowledge, Yuki and his S/O forge a deep bond. Their research not only fuels their intellectual pursuits but also strengthens their emotional connection. Together, they navigate the intricate web of Japanese folklore, uncovering hidden truths and gaining insights into the very essence of their existence.

• As they continue their journey, Yuki's perspectives shift, and he becomes more attuned to the supernatural world that surrounds him. He discovers the interconnectedness between folklore, history, and his own life, realizing that the answers he seeks may lie in the depths of ancient legends.

• Ultimately, Yuki's pursuit of breaking the curse becomes intertwined with his own personal growth. His S/O's extensive knowledge and their shared research empower him to challenge the constraints of his fate and explore the possibilities of a different future. Together, they strive to find a way to break free from the eternal cycle, embarking on a path that will test their resolve and unravel the secrets of the zodiac curse.

🄺🅈🄾 🅂🄾🄷🄼🄰

• Kyo Sohma, known for his initial skepticism towards the supernatural world, finds himself gradually drawn into the fascinating realm of ancient legends and haunted places through his S/O's extensive knowledge. As he spends more time with them, witnessing their encounters with spirits and yokai, Kyo's curiosity is awakened, urge him to explore the unknown.

• At first, Kyo may have dismissed supernatural phenomena as mere myths and tales. However, his S/O's ability to bring these stories to life through vivid descriptions and personal experiences captivates him. He finds himself listening intently, intrigued by the eerie and captivating nature of their narratives. Slowly but surely, Kyo starts to develop a deep fascination for the intricacies of Japanese folklore.

• While Kyo may have been skeptical about the zodiac curse initially, his S/O's knowledge enlightens him to a connection he hadn't considered before. Their understanding of the zodiac cycle and their theory that the curse could potentially be broken through the completion of the zodiac cycle piques Kyo's interest. He starts to contemplate the possibility of finding a way to free himself and the other zodiac members from their eternal curse.

• In the company of his S/O, Kyo embarks on thrilling adventures, venturing into haunted places and seeking out locations associated with spirits and yokai. The adrenaline of facing supernatural encounters together strengthens their bond, and they provide unwavering support to one another. Kyo learns to face his fears, finding solace and courage in the presence of his S/O.

• As Kyo delves deeper into the supernatural world, he begins to appreciate its hidden beauty and complexity. He sees beyond the surface of legends and myths, recognizing the rich cultural heritage that lies within. His perspective on the supernatural shifts, and he discovers that there is more to it than he had ever imagined.

• Together with his S/O, Kyo immerses himself in the exploration of Japanese folklore. They seek out ancient texts, conduct research, and engage with knowledgeable individuals who can provide insights into the mysteries they encounter. Through their shared adventures and discussions, Kyo's understanding and appreciation for the supernatural deepen, enriching his own personal growth.

• As their journey continues, Kyo and his S/O uncover hidden truths and untold stories, piecing together fragments of knowledge that may hold the key to breaking the zodiac curse. They draw strength from their shared passion and determination, continuously pushing the boundaries of what they believe to be possible.

• In the end, Kyo's initial skepticism transforms into a genuine admiration for the supernatural world. He becomes an eager participant in unraveling its mysteries, and his S/O's influence plays a significant role in this transformation. Together, they forge a unique bond, unearthing the secrets of ancient legends and haunted places while embarking on a path towards breaking the zodiac curse.

🄼🄾🄼🄸🄹🄸 🅂🄾🄷🄼🄰

• Momiji Sohma, upon meeting someone who shares his passion for the supernatural, is filled with overwhelming joy. He hangs onto every word his S/O says about ancient legends, rituals, haunted places, and yokai, absorbing their extensive knowledge and being captivated by their firsthand encounters. Their shared enthusiasm fuels his excitement, and he eagerly contributes his own stories and experiences to the mix, eager to share in the wonder of the supernatural realm.

• For Momiji, exploring haunted places and embarking on adventures with his S/O is an experience filled with exhilaration and delight. The thrill of encountering spirits and yokai fills him with a sense of wonder and adventure. He deeply cherishes his S/O's ability to bring the supernatural to life through detailed explanations and their profound understanding of Japanese folklore. Together, they create a vibrant tapestry of shared experiences, their passion for the supernatural drawing them closer.

• When his S/O introduces the concept of the completion of the zodiac cycle and the potential end of the curse, Momiji's heart swells with hope. The mere thought that there might be a way to break the curse and liberate himself and his fellow zodiac members from the eternal cycle fills him with a renewed sense of purpose and determination. He clings to this belief, nurturing it with unwavering optimism.

• Momiji and his S/O find themselves completely immersed in research and discussions about different legends, myths, and rituals. Their shared curiosity propels them to seek out clues, hidden knowledge, and individuals who possess specialized expertise in the supernatural realm. They explore dusty libraries, consult ancient texts, and venture into remote places in search of elusive answers. Their shared passion for the supernatural deepens their bond, as they become each other's pillars of support, constantly encouraging and motivating one another.

• As they lose themselves in their shared quest for knowledge, Momiji and his S/O uncover fragments of forgotten wisdom and connect the dots between various supernatural phenomena. They engage in deep discussions, weaving together different threads of folklore and mythology to unlock the secrets that may hold the key to breaking the curse. Their research becomes a captivating journey of discovery, strengthened by their unwavering determination to find a solution.

• Throughout their shared exploration, Momiji's perspective expands, and he begins to view the supernatural realm not only as a source of wonder but also as a realm of possibilities. He realizes that the answers they seek might lie in the very fabric of Japanese folklore, waiting to be unveiled. Their shared passion and dedication infuse their journey with an unbreakable bond, as they support and uplift each other through every challenge they encounter.

• Ultimately, Momiji's journey of discovery and hope becomes interwoven with his personal growth. His S/O's extensive knowledge and their shared research empower him to believe in the possibility of breaking free from the eternal cycle. Together, they become catalysts for change, fueling each other's determination to uncover the secrets of the curse and find a way to shape their own destiny.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ──────

#fruits basket x reader #yuki sohma x reader #kyo sohma x reader #momiji sohma x reader #headcanons #anime x reader

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