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zephyrchama · 6 months

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Writing prompt: If MC had been a sheep since they came to the Devildom and then suddenly became human again, would the brothers recognize them? (Under the cut, all 7 brothers, SFW, written in second person.)

Others might have written about this before, it's a fun concept. In the beginning of the manga it's explained that MC appears to be a sheep for reasons. I like to think that they gradually change back and their sheep characteristics slowly become more human, while maintaining sheep-like qualities for a while, but it's more fun to write about if they just. suddenly. change back all at once, ta-da.

Humans sometimes face adverse effects when traversing realms. The unnatural spatial movement has equally unnatural consequences for human bodies, which is why you found yourself in the body of a small pink sheep when meeting the brothers for the first time.

Solomon and Diavolo say it will wear off in time, as you adjust to the Devildom. Your body will return to normal eventually, but they don’t know exactly how long. Its been quite some time now and everyone just accepts that this is how things are. You are a small pink sheep, and you are family.

You expected a gradual transformation - to slowly regain human features over time as you got used to life in the Devildom. That didn’t happen. Day by day nothing changed, until the transformation happened all at once.

Lucifer

Lucifer had seen your photo on the exchange student paperwork months ago. A generic little square image stapled to the application, hardly better than a driver’s license photo. He might have taken your paperwork out of the student council room and put it in his private office desk for safekeeping, or to look from time to time to remind himself you really were human.

He was the first one you thought to tell. A big change like this was surely worth a visit to his room, even if he was busy. You knocked your usual knock. Now that you were human-sized, you could reach the middle of the door, but the lack of hooves meant your knock was quieter. There were several seconds of silence. Maybe he didn’t hear you. You went to knock again, but a familiar gruff voice called out “come in,” from the other side so you reached for the handle.

There were piles of record book and stacks of forms upon the desk, but the eldest brother was still visible from the doorway. As if sensing something was different, he paused mid-writing and looked up. Lucifer was taken aback for a moment but quickly regained his usual composed poker face. You tried to hide a smile. Seeing him surprised like that was a rare occasion.

“I see you’ve finally gotten used to it here. Congratulations.” Maybe it was the soft light inside the House of Lamentation, but Lucifer thought you looked far better in person than in that photo. He put down his pen and crossed his hands under his chin. It almost masked the way he leaned slightly forward to get a better look at you over the large desk. “Do you feel alright?”

You nodded, it was strange to adjust to your old height again but you were glad to be back in your body. “You’re sure you feel fine? Come here,” he commanded.

Sitting next to him as a sheep while he worked had become so natural, yet doing so now as a human made you feel so self conscious. Your eyes wandered around the room, avoiding his gaze until he grabbed your shoulder and said “look at me.”

To you, he was just being overprotective. A routine check up on the exchange student to make sure they’re healthy after a sudden transformation. Maybe being close enough to feel his breath each time he exhaled was also necessary. To Lucifer, it was the time he’d been waiting months for. To see your glossy hair, not just a ball of wool, and study the contours of your face. How smooth your cheeks were and the way you politely kept up an embarrassed smile. Yes, the real deal was much nicer than a photograph.

Mammon

Mammon had no idea who you were, at first. You were sitting on the couch, wasting time while waiting for the next family meal. The front door slammed open loudly and closed with a bang. Mammon finally strolled into the living room after a long evening of make-up lessons at school.

“When’s dinner ready? I’m starvin’!” His boisterous voice made the house a little livelier. “And hey, where’s--”

He stammered when his eyes met yours and his voice faltered back down to a normal indoor volume. “Didn’ know we had someone vistin’. Hmph.”

Your jaw dropped. Was he really this dense? He couldn’t recognize you despite all the time you spend together? You turned around to watch over the back of the couch as Mammon walked to the dining room, then left to go down the hallway that led to your room. Several moments later he was in the kitchen. You could hear voices, but not what was said.

After some time he came meandering back to the living room. With one hand on his hip, he remained standing and leaned against the other couch. He was agitated and impatient, and with no one else around he turned to you.

It must have been five seconds, max, but it felt like you stared at each other for an hour. You pouted, glaring at the idiot who thought you seemed like an oddly familiar and comforting presence. “Who’re ya here to see? If it’s The Great Mammon, I’m a busy guy. I can’t just stand around. WIthout compensation, I’m leavin’.”

“Mammon,” you said. Just one word. You sounded hurt. It made his heart skip a beat, he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Huh? What’d you say?” He heard you loud and clear. He just wanted you to speak again, to hear your voice once more and confirm he wasn’t imagining things.

Of all the ways you imagined showing off your human body to him, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Maybe you were wrong for expecting him to recognize you no matter what, but just like him you would never admit that.

“Oh my gosh, you’re a fool! Here’s your ‘compensation!’” Swiftly, you launched a decorative cushion square at his stomach. Your strike is nothing to him, but you landed an emotional blow when you went to storm off.

He grabbed your wrist before you got out of arm’s reach. Forcefully at first, but quickly realized he had to loosen up to avoid hurting you. “Wh- huh? Is that you? Why didn’t you say anything!? When did this happen?”

Walking away was futile as Mammon was rooted to the spot. “That’s really you, right? This ain’t a joke?”

He pulled you in towards him and spun you around to look at your face. You were mad and upset and relieved that he stopped you and embarrassed at having so many emotions at once. He finally knew, you're his human, alright.

Leviathan

It took a while for things to click for Leviathan.

He first saw you from afar on campus. He wanted to steer clear from you., like with every other student. Though he did do a double-take and stare.

He’d never seen you (well, proper human you) around before, and you looked just like the customizable characters you always created in his games. Same hair style, same eyes, same sense of style. His P2 was real. It was uncanny and he couldn’t wait to tell you all about seeing your player character wandering around campus.

That’s when he realized he hadn’t seen you all day. The sheep you. You were always easy to find due to being bogarted by his flashy brothers. You were one of the few to casually greet him every day as assurance he was welcome at RAD. You were human, and humans weren’t sheep. Didn’t Lucifer say something about that when you first arrived? Oh.

When Leviathan didn’t show up to classes after lunch you went looking for him. It was a tough quest. He wasn’t in any of the usual hiding places and wasn’t answering his DDD. He really didn’t want to see you. Or, well, he really did, but clearly wasn’t prepared to. You finally found him on a bench, shrouded by overgrown tree branches and isolated far on the outskirts of RAD’s campus.

Low muttering gave away his hiding space, unintelligible as he was biting down hard on his thumbnail while he raved. His hair was a tousled mess and from time to time he’d jump up to flail or shake his head.

“Lev-”

You tried to greet him and got met with a glorious, high-pitched shriek. You pushed on anyway.

“Levi! I’ve been looking for you. Notice anything different today?”

“You! Y-y-y-youuu!!” He could not look you in the eye, or look at you at all, but your familiar voice made everything clear. It took some time for him to speak again.  ”You sat in my bed! You sat in my lap!” He referenced all the times you’d stay up late gaming with him. He never objected to that before. “You! You did all that! How could you?”

 ”I… thought we were friends?” ”Well I didn’t know you looked like that!”

All the wholesome memories Levi had of you two bonding, demon and sheep, suddenly changed. No longer were you a cute fuzzball sitting on his legs or snug against him like a plush while he slept. You were a cute human, with human features, sitting between his legs and being held against him in bed. Overnight you went from essentially a security plush to a real person, and he was having trouble adjusting.

“You lied to me! Aagh!” He kicked his legs and pulled at his hair in anxious frustration, his thoughts branching in dozens of conflicting paths at once, so you did the only thing you knew to calm him. A big hug.

He froze right up. You stubbornly told him “I’m still me, you know.”

“But you look…” For the first time he tried looking right at you, but all you noticed was the intense blush across his face. It made you smile.

Satan

Great Detective Satan picked up on your change quickly. It wasn’t hard to deduce for anyone who paid close attention to mysteries, like he did.

You hadn’t asked for any help that morning reaching for things high up. You didn’t ask anyone to carry your heavy school books. Most obviously, you were sitting in the dining room enjoying a hearty piece of toast when he also sat down to eat breakfast. Even though he didn’t physically recognize you, who else would be fearlessly sitting at the House of Lamentation’s breakfast table and happily greeting the Avatar of Wrath?

Rather than the scrambled eggs, Satan was most interested in you. He didn’t hide the way he stared. “You look different.” Slowly, eyes never wavering, he took the chair beside you.  ”Oh yeah! Check it out, I changed back!” You went to stand up and show off, but first needed to wipe the crumbs off your face. Too bad the napkin just slid off your lap and onto the floor. “Ah, hold on, I’ll show you in a sec. It’ll be worth it.” You didn’t want to look sloppy on your first day as a human again, and although hands were easier to eat with than hooves, you had prioritized munching on delicious breakfast food over eating cleanly. Without another clean napkin in arm’s reach, you went to pick up what had fallen.

“Allow me.” Napkin unfolded, Satan leaned in close. Before you could acknowledge his offer he had a hand wrapped around your chin. The heat of his fingers could be felt on your lips through the cloth. He spent an unnecessarily long time tracing the contours around your mouth. A cleaning this thorough would surely ward crumbs off your face for at least a week.

A full minute later, Satan was satisfied and leaned back in his own chair. He didn’t stop staring though. You gave a heartfelt, “thanks! Now let me show you,” and stood up to twirl.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus recognized you right away. He was the only one not taken aback, and was thrilled to see you returned to full glory. “You look just like your socials!”

Not one to miss out on trends, Asmodeus had signed up for a few human realm social media sites. He considered it to be the cultural exchange aspect of your exchange program. On particularly slow evenings he’d even scroll through several years of your image posts and save the cutest ones. Asmodeus was very well acquainted with both your human and sheep looks.

“Do you have anything to wear other than your uniform? We really should trim your hair, too. That didn’t stop growing while you were a sheep, huh?” He was immediately all over you, twirling your hair in his long fingers while circling like a predator locked on to its prey.

“Oh really?” You hadn’t noticed your hair being overly long. You were just happy to be back to normal. “Yeah I’ve got plenty of clothes, but my hair? Are there, like, demon barbers around here? Can you help?”

“Leave it to me! And your nails!” His hand found yours and soon your fingers were entwined. He lifted them up, cheerily exclaiming “how about matching with me?” as he pulled you towards his room. It was hard to keep up with him, but at least you stood a chance now unlike before in that small body. He noticed, and with a cheeky grin turned to ask “you're not still having trouble? I’ll carry you, you know. And when you need another trim, you come to me first.”

Beelzebub

Beelzebub lucked out. He came into the dining hall for the most important meal of the day, just in time to see you twirl for Satan, proclaiming “I’m back!”

Your voice was the same, and you smelled the same as ever. He let out an astonished “woah” while taking the seat across from you. This new form was much better than the sheep one. His fears of accidentally hurting you with too much strength somewhat abated. Though, in his eyes you were still tiny.

“Morning!” you greeted. “Notice anything new?” ”Boy, do I.” Through a mouthful of food, he asked “how did this happen?” 

“Dunno, it must have happened overnight. I just woke up and bam.” You flashed a pair of finger guns at Beel and he laughed.

After breakfast, you two became alone in the dining room. You piled up the dirty dishes and Beelzebub carried them into the kitchen as you followed behind, saying “we better hurry, I didn’t realize it was this late already.”

“Yeah.” He placed everything in the sink, then turned to face you. He held out his arms. “Ready to go?”

Carrying you to school appears to have become a habit. Beel didn’t even hesitate to gently lift you up like you were weightless. It was an everyday occurrence when you were a sheep. But back in your old body with longer legs, having his arm wrap around your waist without a layer of thick wool to cushion you, things felt different. “Y’know, I might be able to walk to school today.”

“Hm?” Beelzebub took a moment to process this. Like he had completely forgotten you got your body back in that short span of time. “Oh! Sorry. Force of habit.” Almost dejectedly, he crouched to set you back on the ground. You reached around to grab his shoulders anyway.

“Well, I never said you had to let go.”

Belphegor

Belphegor thought he was still sleeping. Your human figure was a familiar sight he had seen multiple times. It was how you manifested in your dreams, after all. Sometimes when you napped together he would pick up glimpses of your dreams. On this day he had made it to RAD with time to spare and was dozing off in his seat when you arrived.

Unreservedly, he dragged himself several feet over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder right next to your ear. “Hey.” This was a dream anyway, might as well enjoy it.

“Belphie, are you still asleep?” you asked. Physical contact wasn’t so bad, but it got embarrassing in public like this. With a futile shake you tried to rouse him. “Look! Did you notice? I’m not a sheep anymore!”

“Mm, yeah. You’re you.” Avoiding the lights, he buried his eyes in your neck, wishing it was a little darker. He liked you like this. But if this was a dream, why did the light bother him? Why was he still so tired? “Is it… Hm? What time is it?”

“Time for class to start soon. If you fall asleep again Lucifer is gonna kick your butt. Wake up.” You roughly ruffled his hair, causing him to groan and cling to your waist tighter. It did succeed in getting him to raise his head, at least.

After a sleepy pause, Belphegor seemed to grasp his surroundings. He squinted and leaned back, sizing you up. You couldn't tell if he was waking up or preparing to slouch down again until he spoke. “You really changed back? For real?”

“Yep!”

“Heh, good for you.” He pat your sides and let go. It tickled a little. Now, while you were distracted, was his turn to ruffle your hair. Payback disguised as playful praise.

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fathomlessgaze · 2 months

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bring your child to work day: zayne and his daughter spend a day at the hospital

fluff, dad!zayne/reader (a little bit), ~2.2k

warnings: reader only makes a small appearance it's mostly about zayne + his daughter spending quality time together tbh, allusions to zayne + mc's lore (no specific memory idt just the overarching theme of their story), zayne is a devoted girl dad bc i believe in girldad!zayne...

a/n: mc/reader + zaynes daughter is named zenith here bc i liked the idea of them sharing an initial 😭 meaning the highest point/the point right above you in the sky bc i think thats what she would be for zayne+mc like one of the best moments of their lifetimes :( anyway it's mentioned in the fic but shes the spitting image of zayne thats his mini-me fr

“good morning,” zayne says, passing by the nurses’ station without much fuss. it’s an ordinary wednesday, after all.

“morning,” greyson echoes with a curt nod, his eyes still focused on the files he’s reviewing from an overnight patient.

“mornin’!” a third voice calls happily.

greyson freezes, his papers falling unceremoniously on the floor. “huh!?” he exclaims, a little too loud for a hospital corridor.

however the chief pays his outburst no mind, and he suddenly sees why, greyson’s gaze finding the little girl perched on his boss’ hip. of course, he remembers, it’s “bring your child to work” day. but for some reason, he never thought that zayne would actually bring his child to work. perhaps that explains why he’d made sure no surgeries were scheduled for this day weeks ago.

zayne strokes her dark hair, brushing a loose strand from her pigtails behind her ear. “this is dr. greyson,” he speaks softly, pointing in his direction. “dr. greyson, meet zenith.”

“nice to meet you!” she exclaims, waving a chubby hand in the air, paying no mind to his wide eyes and slack jaw.

she can’t be over four judging from her height, and, of course, greyson knew zayne had a daughter, but he didn’t really know. he remembers you mentioning her at your appointments, the photos on his desk and, of course, zayne’s paid time off actually being used at personal all time highs (which had already been on the incline after you moved in and then got married) since a few years ago, but it still feels surreal to actually see him with his child.

if she has any opinion on greyson’s lack of response besides the cartoon birds that would appear around his head if they were in an animated tv show, she gives no hint. instead, she smiles brightly, her green eyes sparkling as she takes zayne’s glasses off his face and fists the lenses, trying to rotate them in her tiny hands and fit them on her own face.

somehow, with the much too large frames perched on her nose, she looks even more like her father. everything, from her dark hair tied with ribbons to her hazel eyes, the curve of her brow and little nose, she is her father’s daughter to a t. perhaps the only un-zayne-like thing about her is the permanent cheeriness in her gaze and her gummy smile. that she must’ve gotten from you. while greyson has definitely noticed how his boss has become a little less taciturn and stern over the years, he would be lying to himself if he said he ever thought zayne would become even a miniscule fraction as bubbly as the daughter he holds close right now.

“i didn’t know you were bringing your daughter in today!” greyson exclaims, the realizations of today finally settling and coming together in his mind.

there’s a fondness in his eyes as he glances to zenith, his lips quirking the slightest bit upwards. “she’s been asking for weeks to come with me; i figured now would be the best time with the other kids here. i know you’ve seen the schedule for today, but—”

“oh my god!” yvonne gasps, speeding towards the trio gathered. “you brought your daughter, dr. zayne!” she extends her hand to the girl, which she happily takes. “i’m yvonne, i work with your dad.”

“i’m zenif,” she babbles, her syllables getting caught on her missing tooth.

simultaneously both greyson and yvonne coo at the little girl.

“aren’t you the cutest thing? i’ve seen so many pictures of you but you’re just the dearest little one, hm?”

and word of mouth travels fast, because, soon enough, a whole crowd has come to fuss over the most adorable little girl who looks exactly like the aloof department chair and has the sweetest smile. she graciously accepts their compliments with quiet ‘thank you's' and hides her face in her father’s neck and shoulder, causing even more ‘aww’s to fall from his colleagues’ lips. when the attention dies down, zayne finally gets to his office, nearly an hour later than he usually would have by now, but he can’t even be annoyed. his little girl is the most precious; of course, he would react in the same way.

he shuts the door behind them and puts his bag down by his desk, moving zenith so she has a place on his lap when he sits down. “what would you like to do today, hm?” he asks, booting up his computer and finding a pile of files from the depths of a drawer.

“what do you do?” she asks.

he hums. “well sometimes i see patients who don’t feel well, sometimes i do surgeries on them so they feel better, and sometimes i have to do paperwork. i don’t have any patients or surgeries scheduled today, so we can do whatever you want; how does that sound?”

“what about paperwork?” she exclaims. “you said that’s what you do?”

“would you like to do paperwork with me?”

she nods firmly. “i wanna spend time with daddy!”

his heart softens, his already abnormally warm (at least for work standards) gaze growing even more endeared by his precious, favorite little girl. “you want to spend time with me?”

her head bobs and she wraps her arms around his neck, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “of course! i love you, daddy.”

pressing a kiss to her cheek, he can’t help a smile. of course he knows she loves him, loves spending time with him. when he’s home she’s practically glued to his hip. and he tries his best to make sure she knows the same. but sometimes it’s just nice to hear it from someone you love. “and i love you, princess.”

it used to be a foreign expression on his tongue many, many years ago, before you’d returned to his life, and especially before she came into his life. but as time flew by, thanks to you and your help, he’d grown familiar, comfortable, fond with it. while he knew you didn’t mind him not saying that as much as other boyfriends and husbands might from all your conversations, knowing he expressed how much he loved you and then some through other ways, he knew she might not have understood just how her father expressed his feelings and fondness at her young age.

so beyond his quiet actions, he makes sure to tell her. whether it’s a post-it note in her lunchbox, right next to the heart-shaped sandwich with the crusts cut off, just how she likes it, whenever it’s his turn to make her lunch, or a birthday card she’ll know how to read one day, he tries to tell her through words too. ‘i love you’ went from an expression he seldom said or heard, to one he couldn’t get enough of, whether it be from your lips or hers, and one he always wanted you both to know.

“let’s see what kind of paperwork we can find for you, then.” coincidentally a knock sounds from the other side of the door. “come in.”

“they brought some donuts and coloring pages out in the lobby,” yvonne says, popping her head in. “i figured you’d both be interested.”

“thank you, yvonne.” when the door shuts, zayne leans back to look at his daughter, brushing her hair. “what do you think about that? do you want to take a look?” with her eager nods, zayne stands.

“i wanna walk,” she pouts, tugging on his once crisp button-up, and he puts her down accordingly, taking her small fingers in his.

they make their way hand in hand down the corridor, drawing even more endeared coos from the staff until they reach the table. kneeling down to her height, he points at a smaller kids table in the corner.

“how about you get some coloring sheets and crayons? i can get you a donut and we can head back and do some paperwork,” he explains.

she happily obliges, skipping over and inspecting the books with a familiar seriousness (which also makes the other staff coddle her just as much as her bright smiles. “aren’t you so precious!?” “she’s just like her father!” zayne can’t help the small quirk of his lips when he hears how cute they find his daughter, because she is, speaking from his personal experience.). meanwhile he grabs a strawberry donut with sprinkles and a chocolate one, both her favorites, placing them on a napkin and grabbing a few extra knowing how she takes after you in terms of her messiness.

meeting her in the corner, he bends down, taking a quick look at the drawings she’s taken. “find anything you like?” he asks.

raising her pages to his eyes, she beams. “they have the bears!”

he smiles softly, tucking her loose hair away. “yes, they do,” he hums. “who knew?”

it totally wasn’t like he’d ordered specific character coloring books when it was time for the cardiology department to refill their kids’ activity section. it totally wasn’t like he’d looked for some ones he knew his daughter would love. it wasn’t like that at all; zayne maintains he’s as impassive and serious at work as ever…he’s lying to himself.

when she gathers her crayons, the duo make their way back to his office. the day flies quickly by, her babbles and light, curious questions bringing a new level of comfort and joy zayne never thought he’d get from his job. he loves what he does, of course, but everything just seems more enjoyable and memorable with his daughter by his side. or rather, with her on his lap, in her own little world of just her and her beloved dad, oblivious to the seriousness of the paperwork her father is dealing with as she busies herself with her own “paperwork” and scribbles vibrant colors all over the once black and white image.

and zayne thinks he would be perfectly content if it were to stay like this forever. even with all his prizes and awards, nothing could compare to the reward and title of being your husband and zenith’s father.

he lowers his pen to the desk from his fingers, using his free hand to rest his head as he admires the precious life before him. “i love you, princess,” he murmurs, pinching her cheek.

“i love you too, daddy!” she turns to face him, crumbs of donut glaze still around her lips.

he takes a napkin and dabs at her face before checking his watch. you’d said you’d meet them around now… “how about we get lunch soon?”

right on time, a knock sounds from the door, which opens to reveal you. “how are my favorite doctors doing?” you exclaim.

“mama!” she cheers, hopping off zayne’s knee and running into your waiting embrace.

kissing her head, you give her a squeeze. “how’s work with dada going?”

“i love it here! daddy colors and eats dessert all day,” she cheers.

glancing to your husband, you chuckle. “is that so?”

he makes his way towards you both, giving you a peck as you stand, your daughter now on your hip. “something like that,” he mumbles.

“then maybe i should become a doctor too,” you tease. “is now a good time for lunch?”

he nods, opening the office door once more and allowing you to pass first.

“i wanna become a doc-tor, too,” zenith ponders, suddenly serious with her small fingers tapping at her chin as she thinks, a habit no doubt from her father. “then daddy and i can color and eat snacks together forever!”

“is that so?” you ask, but you can’t help the smile you shoot at your husband.

she bobs her head, a determined furrow in her brow. “i wanna be with mama and daddy forever.”

zayne has a warm fondness in his gaze as his eyes find his daughter. she looks up to him with wide eyes and her gummy grin, reaching her small hand out for his own, which he happily obliges. her tiny fist wraps around two of fingers, and he briefly wishes that she could stay his little girl for eternity. she doesn’t need to know how hard her dad’s job actually is, how much work he had to put in to get to where they are now, the sorrows of her parents’ past. she is a precious gem, the shining peak of all your shared lifetimes.

this one existence, finally at peace, a happy ending for you and him, domestic bliss with the two, now three, of you, he thinks it’s worth every tear that’s been shed before. and maybe in another universe and lifetime, the you’ll get another happy ending. he thinks that even if it’s a simple life, as long as it’s with the two of you, it’d be one he cherishes and treasures close to every fiber of his existence, one he would fight all there may be to remember, for no god could tear his devotion. maybe he’d even bet every splintering past life that led to this one was worth the years he’s gotten to spend with you in this one, and the years still to come. so he hopes she stays as optimistic and bright as ever, that you stay by his side in this heavenly life he could only once dream of. after all, ice is made of crystals.

#zayne x reader #zayne x y/n #zayne x you #zayne fluff #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #l&ds x reader #mine

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wyllsravengard · 2 months

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there's a lot of discussion and speculation about the fact john doesn't speak of arthur in rdr1. logistically it's not hard to understand that rdr1 just came out years before rdr2 and thats why but . But.

but when you think of rdr1 with the additional context two, there is something quite... in line with john trying to forget arthur. wanting to. or burying him. not just in metaphor or in soil but in his memories and in some way failing to do it but in another succeeding

you think of john and his commitment to his son and wife and you think of his willingness to do anything for them. moral or not. righteous or not. and you think of the fact that john didn't know at the time the sort of man arthur believed him to be, but he perhaps modeled himself in the image of his older brother. near incidental. he has so little in common with arthur really. john's broody and lacking remorse and at twenty-six he's inconsiderate entirely in a way arthur never was.

but time is a thief and one day, he turns 38. he's older than arthur when he dies. and john doesn't remember well what he looks like, and all he can feel when he thinks of arthur is grief. grief that never ends. thats the thing about all of it, you'll realize - is that john knows arthur best in the retroactive.

the sort of complicated, odd man arthur was revealed to him in the creases of pages and keepsakes. in the carving of his guns that john finds after arthur is gone. in the ring of the woman arthur loved long ago. in the confessionals to his son isaac and the regret in the letters he wrote to their psuedo father. you realize john knows more of arthurs stagnant ghost that can't guide john into manhood the way he so desperately needs. and it's all he has to go by to make a man of himself.

john never finds out what kind of man arthur believed him to be and he has to infer the real good man arthur was. in grief there is love. john loved arthur enough to want to be like him. and in burying the living, breathing man arthur was he's forced to cling to his spirit. has to piece together the kindness of his older brother through memories and diary entries and secondhand stories. and that's how he models himself in rdr1 to me. where arthur is moral john becomes dutiful and where arthur is kind, john is helpful. he becomes the shadow of arthurs best qualities. he can never be arthur. no one could ever be arthur, even if arthur had given them the page by page instructions of how to do so. this is all he has. all he knows. all he can do.

john misses his brother. so he tries to embody him. but he can't really in the same way he can't grieve him. so he makes a home for arthurs ghost to return to in himself. john never mentions arthur because it dregs up painful what-ifs, but they share so many mannerisms and bastardized qualities. john has fashioned himself based on those loose memories.

one day, a stranger meets john and says. "why would you remember me, friend? you've forgotten far more important people than me" and john will remember all the ghosts he's ever loved briefly. there will be a blurry face and a forgiving voice and it will sound like a memory and it will linger in johns ribcage like a moth. and john won't remember. he won't. he can't. he buried his brother without ever doing it.

john says a lot of things. feels a lot of things. he shoots his gun to the stranger who calls his memory into question and the thing jams and the bastard roams free. john will taste blood in his mouth. he'll feel a cough in his lungs and well, he won't remember his brother still. buried men must stay buried.

of course. of course john never mentions arthur. he can't remember him, even though he's inherited so much of his manner. to speak it of him would be admitting to his existence. its admitting: i miss you. im sorry. it was my fault.

of course john never mentions arthur. he's made all this effort in forgetting him that even when his body and his gesture and his character betray the fact he's forgotten - his mind will soothe the pain and blur out his face.

and instead of remembering in life even once, he'll die the same way arthur did. alone. protective. contented. redeemed. john loves arthur like most brothers do - with muscle memory.

even if john cuts the necrosis of arthurs memory off of him, his body will twitch at the phantom feeling of his existence. john remembers even when he can't. arthur his only brother. the most important man he's ever forgotten.

#z.gen #arthur morgan #john marston #rdr1 #rdr2 #rdr1 spoilers #rdr2 spoilers #im feeling soooooo miserable about them you wouldnt believe

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ozzgin · 3 months

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Is it just me or can I imagine a yandere with a darling who’s immune system and possibly everything about them just screams weak and pathetic, BUT their darling is actually very strong mentally and has and will create the most fucked up, batshit crazy inventions from what used to be harmless to something that can help them escape and possibly destroy everything in its path.

But at the end of the day, they become sleepy koalas who hug whoever is near them and fall asleep :)

This could be a request or rant, whatever you can think of! I just wanted to see how different yandere writers would interpret this small imagination of mine <3

But as always, stay safe and take care! everyone needs a break some time to time~

Sorry, but the moment I read the Darling's description, I instantly thought of Dr. Finkelstein from Nightmare Before Christmas. You know, Sally's inventor. 😭 So let me quickly write this down while I'm in my Shelley vibes, because I like the idea a lot. With a little twist, if you don't mind. :)

Yandere! Monster x Inventor! Reader

A frail inventor, and their affectionate rag doll that has been carefully stitched together for the purpose of a caregiver. An artificial existence, trapped within the confines of your lonely tower. Or so you might think.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior

"I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel..." [Frankenstein]

You dangle an old, rusty bell for a good minute before leaning back in your chair. The barely audible chimes are quickly swallowed by the loud, mechanical groans of the gears and engines occupying most of this room. No matter, his ears are good. You picked them yourself. And surely enough, within moments, the door to your laboratory opens and someone cautiously walks in.

A tall, slender man. Or rather, something meant to resemble a man. The skin is a clumsy patchwork of blues and grays - you're no talented seamster, sadly - gathering together the body parts in what feels like a parodic attempt at mimicking God and his image. You gaze at the creature approaching you with a tray of tea and sweets. Scarcely your best work, if you must adhere to honesty. Regardless of the quality of your labor at the time of creation, you are proud of the result. How could you not be? You know this man better than you know yourself. Every organ, every artificial nerve cord, every blemish and stitch of his body was placed according to your intentions. A masterfully detailed project that took you years to complete; not an easy feat considering the lamentable state of your health.

"Here's your deadly nightshade tea." The man places a small, porcelain cup on the desk. "Do let me know when I should take you to bed, (Y/N)." You wave your hand dismissively and stretch out your limbs. "Not yet. I am almost finished", you respond, returning to the mound of metal scraps and pipes before you. "Can I ask what you're making?" The pale creature lowers himself to your level, a curious smile plastered on his face. "It's a mechanical heart", you reveal boastfully. "Like the one I have?" You run your hand through the creature's hair affectionately. "Almost. I'm testing out a different way to build the valves, for a more efficient pumping cycle." You continue to explain the intricacies of your novel mechanism, occasionally sipping on your tea. "Who knows, you might have a sibling in the near future."

The man's smile drops in an instant, and his sunken eyes widen at your statement. "What? Am I- am I not enough?" You glance at the creature as he becomes increasingly frantic. "Don't speak nonsense. If it comes out alright, I'll upgrade your own parts as well. I'm a disciple of scientific virtue, of continuous improvement." Nonsense? Vile treachery! You might've chiseled the brain that throbs within the walls of his skull, but his mind is his alone, and you seem to lack a fundamental understanding of his feelings and thoughts. His ardent confessions of love are met with mockingly pitiful grins, in the way a parent soothes a needy child. Even now, your eyes reflect nothing more than sympathy towards his protest. A childish tantrum is what you're most likely thinking. You've no time for emotional bagatelles. He can read you like an open book.

You simply won't understand. There is no place for a stranger in the life he's crafted with his very own hands: you, and him, and the evening tea with a side of butterscotch biscuits, and the bedtime talks, and the stripped branches of the decaying tree that rap at the windows on stormy nights. You might be the Inventor, but he is not just a mere, humble servant, a rag doll to be tossed around or toyed with. As you will soon discover, after all.

You awaken in the midst of night with your temples burning from a much too familiar headache. Although it's not just the pain that has disturbed your slumber. You can hear rattles and thuds coming from the upstairs laboratory. An intruder? Oh, your creations! The sound of glass breaking and metal scraping sends you into spiraling despair. You fumble to reach the nightstand, patting the surface in search for the bell and keys. You shake the handle in a panic, unable to find anything else in the darkness.

The chaotic rustle abruptly stops, followed by descending footsteps. You hold your breath as the chamber door opens, but it's none other than your creature. "Another flare-up? Shall I bring you some medicine?" the man asks with monotonous courtesy. "What have you been doing? What's all that noise?" you demand, agitated, but upon lifting yourself off the mattress you discover your legs are numb and uncooperative. The man hurries to your bed with a worried frown, and you hear the familiar clatter of the keychain coming from one of his pockets. "Have you taken my keys? Cease this foolishness at once!" Indifferent to your reproach, he places a firm hold on your shoulders and forces you back down, tucking you in effortlessly.

"You must forgive my impertinence." he says in a pleading tone. "I do not wish to impede the works of your genius. As your partner, however, it is my duty to prevent you from making mistakes." You furrow your eyebrows at his words. "What mistakes? My invention was flawless!", you argue fervently. "Indeed it was, but not its purpose. What need have you for another being?" It is the creature's turn for a passionate speech. He stands up with a confidence you don't recognize and continues: "You should know by now that I am fit to perform any role. That of your servant, your caregiver, your lover, or anything else you may desire. You can resume your tinkering starting tomorrow, but such blasphemies to our bond as the one today will not be tolerated." He straightens his vest and reaches for the door handle. "I will prepare some tea to help you rest."

Inconceivable. Your own creation, built with your own hands...Has something escaped your attention? His dialogue is deranged, tainted by madness. "Have I done something wrong?" you mumble to yourself, deep in contemplation. "Nonsense." the creature turns to face you briefly. "It was you who created me after all. Everything is perfectly splendid."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x human #monster x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #gender neutral reader #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere creation

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rosesnbooks · 2 months

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Aries placements

Since we are currently in aries season, i wanted to make a post about some of their placements! Hope you enjoy this post, and I'm looking forward to your feedback♈

❤️sun in aries people are vastly different from one another. not all of them relate to the confident image of someone who has the qualities of a leader. they can be shy and dislike lots of attention and responsibility. but i do think most of them are passionate about the things they love and they like to share these with the ones closest to them. also, they are very curious. there is something innocent about them

🌹moon in aries types show the classic traits of aries people that are known to others. the people i know with this placement have an unmatched temper and intensity. they have strong emotions regarding everything, so they either love or hate certain things. i feel like their mothers went through many difficulties in life, and tried to display their strong character. also, people with this placement have a desire to be more masculine, and less sensitive. they have outbursts of strong emotions, especially anger that gets out of their system as soon as it arises. they will be there for you in good and bad times, and you'll appreciate that. but if you cross them, they won't see you in the same light ever again. i've noticed that they love music or anything in the arts. it gives them immense joy and passion that they cannot always show and explore in their everyday life.

💋rising sign in aries have a strong presence wherever they go and people are quick to form opinions about them. they seem passionate, direct and a bit aggressive. women with this ascendant are seen as femme fatale. men seem a bit restless, opinionated, very masculine, and intimidating to some. their appearances vary, but they have some noticeable facial features that demand your attention (eyes esp., and the nose) they look amazing in black, red, and any loud colors. they have so many facial expressions, and it's quite charming and funny. they are a bit loud sometimes

🎬mercury in aries is an interesting placement. a lot is going on in their heads but it depends on the individual whether they'll show this aspect of their personality to the world or not. they have strong opinions and they are not fans of a gray mindset. i'm not saying they view things in black and white only, but they definitely prefer to be 100% sure in things. they are humorous, but at the same time they take things too seriously lol. they prefer direct people and explaining things clearly and concisely, without beating around the bush. they also like to provoke a bit the people they love, with good intentions ofc. lastly, they have to be careful when talking about sensitive topics, and discussing things with people who are sensitive. they must not be too harsh and "objective" since it can be easy to hurt others this way.

💄venus in aries love fiercely and dislike cold people who aren't ready to pursue them bravely and honestly. if you lack interest and manners, they will cross you off their list pretty quickly. they are lots of fun and want someone similar to them in this aspect. i think they can be really loyal as partners once they find someone who fits their criteria. continuous display of commitment and passion is the way to go with them. they are really sensitive actually, so they want someone that makes them feel safe, and someone who would be patient with their emotions.

❤️‍🔥mars in aries are energetic, full of life, passionate (i cannot help myself, this word describes them in a nutshell), like to take the lead, have various ambitions they need to fulfill. their temper is a bit scary at times, so they need to work on that. i feel as if this placement is not that common. they succeed in whatever they have planned in life because of their ambitious and strong mindset.

🎫jupiter in aries will have lots of luck by working on their confidence, saying how they think and feel instead of bottling up their emotions and ideas. pursuing various hobbies, especially those that involve physical activity. they need to relieve their stress as well. also, being spontaneous and brave could provide happines and new opportunities. focusing some of their big energy toward the people they love is also rewarding. the people around them love their enthusiasm and optimism btw.

💌saturn in aries need to watch out for their impulsive nature that dives head first without giving anything much thought. not only could they hurt themselves in this process, but others around them as well. there are consequences to all of our actions. moreover, there is no need to be shy about taking risks and taking the lead, but it's important to do it the right way. like i've said, confidence is key. by working on themselves, they could become unstoppable.

🌹📖🌹📖🌹📖🌹📖🌹📖🌹📖🌹📖🌹📖🌹📖

paid astrology readings

(photos were found on Pinterest)

Don't take anything too seriously since I am not a professional

#rosesnbooks #aries #astrology #astrology observations #astro observations #aries observations #aries zodiac

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reiderwriter · 10 months

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The Thought of You Leaves Me Weak 🎰

Chapter 2 of That's What You Get

Prev Chapter || Next Chapter

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive.

Word count: 4.8k

Summary: Pushing through your hangovers, you and Spencer retrace your steps from the night before to see if your shotgun Vegas marriage is legal - and find out some extra personal things along the way.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex, author has a pronounced disinterest in the reality of getting an annulment for a Vegas wedding.

A/N: We're here! Part two! We're still stuck in Vegas for now, but they'll be back to their new normal soon, and now they have a time limit~ Thanks to everyone who liked, reblogged, commented on and signed up for the series taglist from my first post, I hope you all enjoy part two just as much!! Let me know what you think in the comments or over an ask, I'll be replying all weekend :) Here's the taglist link for anyone else who wants to sign up!

Requests are open as well, and you can find some more of my work in my masterlist.

After the initial shock wore off, and the hangover was left to permeate a bit, you and Spencer remembered you were actually FBI agents and had the ability to do something about your predicament.

“I should probably head off to my own room now,” you said pulling yourself out of Spencer’s arms. “Freshen up a bit before we head out to see what’s going on.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” He nodded, then continued. “You know our first stop should probably be the Marriage License Bureau of Las Vegas. If we are legally married, we’d have had to have obtained a marriage licence between 8am and 12am yesterday, they don’t open later than that.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You nodded to him, “Would they even have served us the marriage licence if we were as intoxicated as I think we were?”

“This is Vegas, Y/N. All we’d need is a valid form of ID and to be willing, and we’d have to have been carrying the ID to get into the bars.” You raked a hand through your hair. Of course you had to get married in a shotgun ceremony in the only state where it probably didn’t matter what your alcohol intake had been.

“Well, we were obviously both willing.” You say, gesturing to the bed, and then curse yourself inwardly as you see the downturned look on Reid’s face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right, I wouldn’t have handcuffed you without at least verbal consent.” He replied, pulling a shirt on finally.

“Right,” you let that revelation sit between the two of you, as he turns his back, continuing to get himself ready for the rest of the day. If you were honest with yourself, you’d have admitted to always having an attraction to your coworker, but nothing you’d solidly act on. Yeah, he was beautiful, and you’d enjoyed joining in the teasing everytime Morgan had called him a pretty boy, because he was. But you’d never let your thoughts drift to what he might be like in bed, and now you were regretting that because you had nothing to base your theories of the last night on except that you’d woken up in handcuffs.

Really, if someone had asked you the question about what you could possibly expect from Spencer Reid in the bedroom, the furthest you’d be able to imagine was some incredibly professional, missionary sex. If you thought a little harder, you’d remember that the man had once highlighted his distinct lack of “alpha-male” qualities on a case once, so, really, if anyone was going to be locked up in handcuffs, surely it would’ve been him.

You try to shake that mental picture from your head, but doing so just aggravates your headache, so you have to sit with the image of Spencer Reid tying you up and making you beg.

“You okay, Y/N? You look a bit pale,” he looks a little bit concerned for you when he finally turns back, and you can only imagine the look on your face if you’re eliciting that much concern.

“Yeah, yeah, totally fine, nothing’s wrong. Why are you asking?” you stutter out.

“Because you said you were going to shower five minutes ago, and you haven’t really moved all that much in that time.” You curse yourself again, and you force yourself out of your head.

“Oh! Yeah!” you move off towards the door, grabbing everything you’ve left in a trail to the door, retracing your steps from the night before. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in like twenty minutes?” You didn’t even wait for his reply before pushing the door open and sprinting to your room, not even caring that you hadn’t put your shoes on.

–X–

If you couldn’t be trusted to make simple choices when drunk, such as the choice to not be married to your coworker, you probably also couldn’t be trusted to make simple choices when hungover, such as a place to meet your now husband where the rest of your friends wouldn’t see you in your post-sex haze from the night before.

Which is how you found yourself cowering behind a plant in the lobby desperate to avoid being spotted by Agents Rossi and Hotchner who apparently were up and in suits for some godforsaken reason. You tried to get Reid on the phone, but he wasn’t picking up, and you had a flash of him asking you how to put his phone on silent mode from the night before hit you like a tonne of bricks.

“Shit, shit.” Nothing else useful came out of you though, so behind the plant you were waiting for them to approach the elevators so you could continue as planned. While you were in the bathroom, you’d finally noticed the blooming bruises running up the length of your neck, and you found yourself slightly impressed by Reid once again.

He’d managed to tie you up but still pay that much attention to you, and you were equal parts cursing him and desperately hoping the memories would come back to see just what other secrets he was hiding behind that unassuming frame. With the lack of contraception, you really couldn’t be sure that the two of you had had sex in the traditional sense, but you certainly seemed to have had some fun last night, and not being able to remember drove you insane.

Thankfully, the two agents made their way to the elevator without noticing you, and you let out a breath of relief as soon as the elevator dinged, ready to take them as far away from you as you needed. Unfortunately, once again, anytime fate dealt you one good hand, it followed it up with the worst ever, and as the elevator doors opened, there was Reid. You made a mental note to check your bank balance after this, sure that if you had ended up gambling with Reid, you’d most likely bankrupted yourself with this luck.

“Reid, good morning,” Hotch greeted him, and even from your unconventional perch, you could hear the panic in the younger man's voice as he began struggling for excuses to answer questions that hadn’t even been asked yet.

“Hotchner, Rossi, what are you doing here? Well I know what you’re doing here, you’re waiting for an elevator, and I know what you’re doing in the hotel because we’re all here in the hotel, but I mean what are you doing? In general?” It was almost as if he were asking himself that question at the end, trying to work out why the words were even leaving his mouth.

You couldn’t swoop in and save him without the others seeing your new necklace of hickeys and handprints, so you just had to watch him combust adorably in front of the two seasoned FBI Agents.

“Calm down, kid, don’t pull a muscle in that brain of yours, it’s a highly valuable FBI asset.” Rossi joked with him as they switched places, Rossi and Hotch going into the elevator and Reid slinking out.

“Dave and I just finished breakfast. I’m afraid you may have just missed it, Spencer, but there’s a buffet on the third floor that’s supposedly open all day.” Hotch said.

“Actually, I think food isn’t a great idea for me right now.”

“Oh, wild night, kid? No, wait, let me guess, you tracked down a Star Wars convention?”

“I’m more of a fan of Star Trek myself, you know the technology they appeared to have on screen in the show is really fascinating in that it’s-”

“Oh, how unfortunate, door’s closing. See you later, kid.” You breathed a sigh of relief as you watched the elevator climb up to the higher floors of the accommodation and left your perching spot.

“Spencer, over here.” You waved to him a little, and he turned to the sound of your voice, visually relaxing the moment he set his eyes on you.

“You don’t think they noticed I’m acting weird, right?”

“Reid, everytime you mention anything remotely pop-culture-y to Rossi he does his best to erase the conversation from his brain, okay? And Hotch looks like he hasn't slept in a decade. I’m sure they didn’t notice anything.”

“What? I thought Rossi loved our talks, he always says that I’m a riveting conversationalist.”

You just nodded along with him and patted his arm pitifully, leading him out of the lobby and into the waiting streets of Las Vegas, Nevada.

–X–

Twenty minutes later, you were sitting outside of the Marriage License Bureau, waiting to see if your fate was sealed.

“Okay, so what’s our strategy?” you asked, removing your seatbelt and moved to open your door, jumping out of the SUV you’d commandeered from the parking garage.

“Strategy? Why do we need a strategy?” Reid joined you quickly, exiting from the passenger side, satchel in hand.

“Well, I mean, what are we going to ask them, what are we going to do when we’ve found out if this is real or a hoax or not.”

“Y/N, I think you’re overthinking this. This is Nevada, I’m sure they’re used to any questions we might have.” You took a deep breath looking at the doors of the building and tried to rationalise your thoughts. You were going to be fine, it’s just a marriage, nothing too big.

Pushing the doors open, you were floored by the sheer amount of couples on the premises.

“Shit.” You’d cursed more in the last four hours than you had in the last year, almost beginning to worry that it was becoming a habit.

“Please take a number and wait for your turn to be called, our current waiting time is three and a half hours. If you leave the premises at any point, your place will be forfeited,” a bored looking worker with a small microphone called over the crowd as you entered.

“Hi, sorry, is there a help desk of some kind?” you approached and asked her, a sinking feeling growing in your gut. “We just need to see if our wedding licence is valid.”

“Then please take a ticket, and we’ll see you soon.” The other woman replied, frustratingly monotone.

“No, you don’t understand, we’re leaving the state in three hours, we can’t just sit around, we need answers now, legal advice, something.”

“I’m sorry ma’am, but if you continue to speak to our staff members in that aggressive way, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises,” another member of staff now joined the first.

“Aggressive? I am not aggressive,” you said but you could hear the agitation in your own voice, and the tightness in your shoulders.

“What she means to say,” said Reid from behind you, dropping a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Is that we are FBI agents, leaving town on another case soon, and we would really appreciate your cooperation? I have our marriage licence here. If you could just look over it, it’d only take a few seconds of your time.” The tension rolled off of you in waves, and you melted into his touch as he gladly stepped up to continue your communication.

“Okay, yeah, that definitely seems like a legit licence. You FBI agents, you say?” the first woman questions you, and not trusting yourself not to reply passive aggressively and ruin her cooperative mood, you bite your tongue and just nod.

“My coworker who worked the graveyard shift yesterday mentioned we had a few of you come through. Congratulations on your marriage.” She handed the licence back to you and the pit in the bottom of your stomach grew.

“Is your colleague still here? We just had a few questions about some logistics. We’re out of state, you know?” Reid smiled and you were so thankful for him, for the comforting hand he’d trailed down your shoulder and rested at the small of your back as you stood fidgeting next to him. It took you a minute to realise you were playing with your new wedding ring, already so used to it being there on your finger that you hardly noticed its presence.

“Her next shift starts at 12, but if you’re as desperate for information as I think you are, I’ll have her come see you when she comes in. She’s usually five minutes early anyways.” Reid thanked the woman, and fifteen minutes later, a younger woman with a bright smile was greeting you in the lobby and leading you to a private room in the back.

“Doctor and Mrs. Reid, welcome back! Sandy said you had some follow up questions after yesterday?” she greeted you, and your head started pounding again.

“You remember us?” Reid asked, the confusion knitting his brow as he walked ahead of you.

“I don’t tend to forget husbands as handsome and romantic as you, Doctor.” Something flared in your gut then, anger or protectiveness, but it felt green and red, and you pulled Reid’s hand into your own as she guided you to sit at the table at the far side of the room.

“We’re looking to fill in some gaps in our memory from last night,” you spoke, now not caring to hold back any annoyance in your voice. This woman had written out your marriage licence and yet here she was flirting with your husband. With your Reid. With Reid. Again, the curses jumped to your tongue.

“Ah, I see. One of those.” She shot a smile at Reid, and you shot a look at him as well, but he looked oblivious at her interest and you caught yourself letting out a sigh of relief before turning back to the woman.

“You didn’t realise we were drunk?” you asked her.

“Oh no, we realised. We just assumed you were finally taking the plunge after everything you said. And everything you did, too.”

“Everything we did?” you pushed out, your voice ten times higher than usual. You coughed to make it seem like your throat was just dry, not also housing your entire heart.

“You don’t remember? You two looked so in love. You were all over each other, kissing, touching, whispering and giggling. Honestly, it was just nice to have a couple in love here at 11pm that weren’t trying to have sex in the waiting area.” The blush crept up your neck, and you tried your best to force it back down. Obviously, it didn’t work.

You were about to ask another question, probably about how you would go about getting an annulment, when she finally continued.

“And then when you got the licence you were so happy and you called your friends to come and celebrate with you. You asked for the nearest chapel and we have all that information out in the hall and you said your friends were going to come meet you, so you took off.” She shrugged a little, taking a swig from her coffee. You couldn’t help but feel that even after all of that, she was still eyeing up Spencer, so you squeezed his hand a little bit harder at that, your other hand gravitating to his bicep too, your entire body leaning into his.

“Friends?” Spencer was the first one to wake up to that statement, and your agitation reached its peak.

“Yeah, the two teammates you mentioned. You told everyone they were meeting you at the chapel, that you’d all been here working a case and they were the two that responded to your calls that night.”

“Did we mention any names?” you asked.

“No, just that they were FBI Agents. Is there something wrong?”

–X–

You threw the doors of the building open as you gasped for air, the panic fully setting in now.

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer yelled after you, following you onto the pavement. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you tugged on your hair, mindlessly fretting with it, unconscious to the pain. He finally reached you and pulled your hands into his, forcing you to look up into his eyes.

“Y/N, it’s fine. We’re going to be fine.” He soothed you quickly, and you hiccuped through the small sobs you were now letting out.

“Spencer, two of our friends know that we got married last night, and we don’t know who or how much they know, and now we know that our marriage is legal and you’re stuck with me and I got us into all this mess because I’m an adult who doesn’t want to tell her mom to back off.” By the end of your speech he was cradling your head in his hands, as your tears flowed down your face in messy trails.

“Hey, look at me. You told me this morning that this was not my fault, and I’m telling you now that that doesn't mean it's yours. We’re in this together, okay?” he waited for you to nod before continuing. “Besides, no matter who it was, our team mates love us. They’ll understand.”

“What if we get reassigned? This is a conflict of interests, right, me and you working together like this?” You’d worked so hard to be accepted into the BAU, you didn’t want to let this be your exit, and you sure as hell weren’t letting them fire Spencer for it.

“We’ll talk to Hotch and Rossi, they don't want to lose either of us, and if we get this dealt with quick enough, maybe we won't even have to report it. We could keep it quiet for a while, right?” You knew all of his words made sense, they were the best course of action for the two of you. He’d probably run all of the scenarios through his head while you showered this morning, which is why he was so level-headed. But there was a discomfort that you just couldn’t shake.

“You mean we could get this…annulled?” you asked cautiously, looking into his eyes to gauge his reaction.

“If you want, we can walk right back in there and have it done soon, I’m sure that employee would help us, she seemed friendly-”

“No.” You practically shouted, not wanting to come face to face with that woman again, and watch her flirt with Reid as he signed the annulment paperwork. “I mean, there’s no time, right? We should probably head to the chapel to figure out who our witnesses are and then we’re heading back to Quantico.” You did to rationalise your decision, praying that the jealousy (jealousy?) that you felt didn’t show in your voice or face.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Well, we have 21 days from now to file, before the annulment period passes and we’re looking at divorce, which is not favourable for either of us, but we can file from out of state.” You nodded along with his words, glad for the lack of questioning, and that he didn’t clock the hopeful glint to your eye.

“Okay, great. Yeah.” You had calmed down enough now for your proximity to become awkward, and Reid noticed as soon as you did, pulling his hands away from you and taking a step back. Maybe it was the hangover, or just the overwhelming series of emotions you’d been through successively, but it felt wrong suddenly having him so far from you. Shaking it off, you grabbed your keys out of your pocket.

“She said we picked up the information about the chapel from the lobby, right? Can we narrow down which one it is with the photo?” You suggested, suddenly not able to meet his eyes.

“Oh, right, yeah. We’d have had to have been able to get there on foot, too. I’ll go and ask them if they recognise which one it is,” he made to move back in, but you shouted a resounding ‘no’ before he could take another step.

“I’ll do it! I should probably apologise for earlier anyway, right?” you chuckled awkwardly, pushing the doors open and leaving him behind with that confused look set against his skin once again.

–X–

“I’m telling you, we delete the footage from the previous day at noon, I can’t help you.” You’d tracked down the chapel pretty quickly despite all of your options, and now found yourself arguing with a pretty lackluster Elvis impersonator, desperate to figure out any more details about the night before.

“What about staff members that could verify? We just need a vague description.”

“Everyone’s a part-timer here, lady. The people on shift today won't be back for another two days or so. Come back then, okay?” He showed you to the door then, and if you hadn’t gotten drunk and married in Vegas the night before, this would certainly have been your lowest moment.

“Nothing?” Reid asked from his perch on the car.

“They delete the security footage.” You signed in frustration, and he showed a sympathetic smile on his face.

“How do you want to play it, then?” he asked. “Two of them are already going to know, should we just come clean to the entire team, see if they could help?”

“No, god no. As much as it’s my current reality, I don’t really want to have to respond to Mrs. Reid until Morgan gets new material, and no one’s going to be this easy of a target any time soon.”

“Technically speaking, you’d have to apply for a legal name change to become Mrs. Reid, usually couples do it a few days either side of the wedding and start the process of updating all their legal IDs so they can travel internationally for honeymoons without anyone asking questions.”

“Not the point, Reid.”

“And I knew that. Sorry.” It was hard to stay annoyed at him with that small smile stretched across his lips, and you suddenly found yourself wondering just exactly how he'd felt against you.

You’d kissed at the chapel, at the wedding licence office, in his hotel room, and you couldn’t for the life of you remember if you’d been the one to lean in first, or if it’d been him, or if it’d been both of you and what that meant. Did he like you, did you subconsciously want him in this way? Did this even mean anything? And what had those handcuffs been about?

He couldn’t answer most of those questions, and honestly, you weren’t sure you wanted the answers, but it’d been a day of awkward conversations, so you thought you might as well let your curiosity rule you for a few more minutes.

“Spencer, would you mind me asking a personal question?”

“Sure, we are married now. Don’t they say that the number one thing to remember in marriage is communication?” He tried to joke, but you couldn’t laugh as you got ready to spit some of the most horrific words you’d ever strung together out.

“Spencer, do you…do you often use handcuffs? In bed, I mean?” you were bright red, stood outside a 24 hour wedding chapel in the heart of Vegas and you couldn’t believe this was your life.

“Oh.” He was the same shade of red as you, and he stuttered through his next few incoherent words before you found his reply.

“I’ve not done it with the handcuffs before, but I guess I’ve…thought about it? It’s definitely in line with my… Do we have to do this here?”

“Would you rather talk about this on the jet?”

“Do we have to do this at all?” He groaned, shutting his eyes and you could feel the horror at his own actions spreading through his body.

“We are married now. Communication is key, remember?” He sighed and acquiesced, running a hand through his hair before turning back to you and forcing the words out.

“I know you probably didn’t think this about me before, but I am pretty controlling in bed. I don’t like feeling… hopeless, and it just manifests as dominance, okay? It’s been a while since I had a partner though, so the handcuffs were new to me, but I’ve tied girls up before. Now can we stop this conversation here before someone on this very public street hears us?”

“Okay, yeah sure. That actually makes a lot of sense really.” You said, nodding and moving to get into the car. You tried to keep your thoughts to yourself, knowing that the knowledge of his preferences was going to plague your dreams for the next few nights.

“You don’t have to lie, Y/N, I know I don’t seem like the type.” He got into the passenger side next to you, and you ignored looking at him in the mirrors desperately as you started the engine and made your way back to the hotel.

“No, I mean it makes sense that it happened to us. I don’t think we would’ve ended up in bed together if we weren’t so… compatible.” You let the silence sit between you as you let him take in your words, driving to the orchestra of midday strip traffic.

“Oh.” He said. “Oooh.” He finally caught on, and you felt your head turning in his direction, but you forced it back towards the road, convincing yourself that you really didn’t need to see his reaction, to study his expressions.

“Well, at least we know that we both enjoyed it then.” You weren’t sure if he was just oblivious, or trying to get a reaction from you, but nonetheless, your heart clenched at that, excitement rising in your stomach.

You convinced yourself that it was probably just the alcohol, and drove in silence back to the hotel, ready for your departure.

--X--

🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @bluecandycake @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @daddy-dotcom @zaapsite @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @kat453 @ferrjulie @kapeyama @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @sharkcat1928 @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @alyssaxstan @ghostheartbeat @zada-quinn @beguiling3lavender @Casss2111 @zatannas-wand @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @kspencer34 @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk

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weirdmarioenemies · 5 months

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Name: Mino

Debut: Tetris

Tetris is all about blocks! You know that! Did you know that those blocks are called Tetriminos? Maybe you did! Geometrically, they are tetrominoes, shapes formed from four squares connected at the edges. "Tetrimino" is the official spelling of the ones used in Tetris specifically, which is a little confusing, but it's ok. Don't worry about it unless you are making your own game about tetrominoes! If you do that, be careful.

But what about the little blocks that make up the Tetrimino? These are geometrically called monominoes, but in Tetris, they are simply Minos! Humble little things. The game is named after Four, so what place does a measly One have?

If you ask me, they have all the place, because they are all over the place! There are no Tetriminos without Minos. Together, Minos are powerful, some of the most iconic and recognizable shape clusters in the world! Even in the form of a plush, The Tetris Company almost ALWAYS ensures that the individual Minos are visible. It is a part of the Tetriminos' designs at this point! The only exception I can think of is in situations unable to use their distinct colors, where other design factors are used to distinguish each. In this case, all but the I Tetrimino have their Minos visible, while I is just a solid color. Come on now, I. The most universally beloved Tetrimino, and you can't show some appreciation for the little guys who made you who you are? Sheesh!

While yes, Minos are a bit overlooked, they do indeed get the spotlight every once in a while! In game modes with items, you can expect that there will be one that turns all of your pieces into Minos, allowing you to instantly fill in gaps wherever you like. They are not particularly powerful, only able to clear one line at a time, but they ARE very convenient and easy to use!

Tetris Friends, my dearly beloved and departed Tetris Friends, uses Minos as the base for most of its avatars! I have already talked about these specifically, but I just want to point out these VERY default ones, each a piece of one of the classic Tetriminos, based on color... until the end, where we get what appears to be a Domesticated Mammal Mino! What are the implications of this? Have members of an intelligent species selectively bred the most docile of Minos together? Do Minos reproduce? Am I way off the mark, and is this Mino actually made of cookies and cream ice cream?

Finally, the reason I've been thinking of Minos in the first place! Here is a photo of the Tetris board game, with a single gray square in the Matrix. That's right! A Mino! In my opinion, this game is the most special Minos have ever felt. In this version, Tetriminos are dropped straight down into columns in the Matrix, and so they aren't as maneuverable as virtual ones. They can't be rotated while falling, and can't be slid into place to fill in any little notches.

This is where Minos come in! They are a sort of compensation for the lack of extra control, and can be placed to fill in extra space before dropping a Tetrimino. This is especially useful if you start with a Z or S block, since in this game, dropping one on a flat surface would leave a space no matter what! With a Mino, you can make a nice little ledge for your block to land neatly on.

This game's use of Minos really stood out to me! They're a major gameplay mechanic, they are explicitly named in the instruction manual, and, most importantly, they get their own PIECES. Physical, officially licensed, single Mino objects! They even get their very own color! A humble gray, not flashy like the rest, but distinct among all the others, and practical. A gray not to indicate a lack of interesting qualities, but instead, great potential!

There is no "official art" for Mino, so I just made the post's top image by editing some official Tetrimino art. Also, I have distinct memory of SOME official Tetris game, possibly Tetris Friends, referring to them as Tetrimonos. Does anyone else remember this? Please tell me if you do!

With that, we have reached the end of this post. But this is not the end of my fascination with Minos. In a way, it's only the beginning. In my Mino research, I have discovered some truly incredible things. Look forward to reading about them next week in Minos post part 2!

#mino #tetrimino #tetromino #monomino #tetris #tetris friends #not mario #funky friday #mod chikako

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exlibrisseverus · 4 months

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The torn bond of friendship

The silence between us every time we meet makes my heart ache.

You avert your gaze just so you don't have to look me in the eye. I know that you don't hate me. But to be honest, I'd rather have your hate than your pity.

You wish things had gone differently. But I can't change for you the way you would like me to. Nevertheless, you are important to me.

(You always will be.)

[I tried to put myself in his shoes and that's how these few lines came about. The background in the illustration is a photo I took, it's the view from my window.]

The artist's commentary – psychological aspect/my two cents…

Nobody is perfect, no human being is.

Especially not adolescent teenagers who literally have almost no idea about life. Who lack empathy, compassion, maturity, experience and so many other things. All of us have certainly lost a friend at some point in our childhood or adolescence. Close friendships at a young age and the experiences associated with them can have a strong influence on our behavior later in life. All of a person's first intensive relationships with family, friends, etc., whether positive or negative, shape their world view and character immensely.

We can't expect a young person to be flawless and perfect. Maturity comes with years and experience. It is not uncommon for children and youth to be self-centered and egocentric, but that does not make them bad people. To a certain extent, selfishness is even important. As we grow up, we learn to act autonomously, make decisions and form our own opinions. It is clear that we can make mistakes during this process and possibly hurt others. We all make mistakes on our journey through life, that is part of growing up. That is a part of this life.

I have to remind myself each time that they were practically still children as at that time.

Sorry for my poor English, it’s not my native language. I do my best though. Thanks for reading 🖤

(Additional edit 10.02.2024 Tumblr confuses me a little bit, i was wondering why my previous image lost it’s quality after uploading. It took me too long to draw and i need to show the details. Anyways for better detailed view -> I’ve split the artwork. 😌)

#severus snape #severus snape fanart #lily evans #lily evans fanart #snape community #pro severus snape #snape fanart #illustration #harry potter fanart #snily #my art

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mariacallous · 1 month

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Salman Rushdie has just published Knife: Meditations After an Attempted Murder. In August 2022, he was giving a talk at the Chautauqua Institution in New York. Hadi Matar, a 24-year-old from New Jersey, rushed the stage and stabbed him 15 times. It was astonishing that Salman survived. He lost the sight in one eye and sustained terrible injuries, but he’s still with us and he’s still writing, and unlike Hadi Matar, he’s still worth hearing.

We think of fanatics as stalkers with an obsessive knowledge of their targets. Like the antisemites who compile lists of Jews in the media or the homophobes who so focus on the details of gay sex they might almost be closet cases

Most terrorists and bigots are not like that. They are like soldiers in an army who kill and hate for no other reason than tradition or men in authority have told them to kill and hate. If we were less fascinated by the pseudo-glamour of violence, we would see them for what they are: dullards and jerks.

In Knife Salman is almost as angered by the sheer lazy stupidity of his wannabee assassin as his violence.

“I do not want to use his name in this account. My Assailant, my would-be Assassin, the Asinine man who made Assumptions about me, and with whom I had a near-lethal Assignation … I have found myself thinking of him, perhaps forgivably, as an Ass.”

The ass “didn’t bother to inform himself about the man he decided to kill. By his own admission he read barely two pages of my writing and watched a couple of YouTube videos”.

That was enough, apparently, along with a little light indoctrination in the Levant.

We know from Matar’s mother that her son changed from a popular young man to a moody religious zealot after visiting her ex-husband in the Hezbollah-controlled town of Yaroun in Lebanon, a mile or so from the Israeli border.

“I was expecting him to come back motivated, to complete school, to get his degree and a job. But instead, he locked himself in the basement. He had changed a lot. He didn't say anything to me or his sisters for months.”

Salman quotes a wonderfully perceptive line from Jodi Picoult

“If you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.”

Rushdie is openly contemptuous, as he has every right to be.

“I see you now at twenty-four,” he writes, “already disappointed by life, disappointed in your mother, your sisters, your father, your lack of boxing talent, your lack of any talent at all; disappointed in the bleak future you saw stretching ahead of you, for which you refused to blame yourself.”

This has always been the way. Readers old enough to remember 1989 when the Ayatollah Khomeini ordered Salman’s execution for writing a blasphemous satire of Islam’s origin story in the Satanic Verses,will know that Khomeini had not read it. Nor had the furious demonstrators in the streets or the regressive leftists and Tory ministers who upbraided him for the non-crime of causing offence.

Those of us who had read the book pointed out that it was a magical realist fiction which contained sympathetic accounts of the racism Muslim immigrants in the UK suffered. Indeed, the Tories of the day loathed Salman, we continued, because of his confrontations with official racism.

But after a while we fell silent. Pleading with his enemies felt demeaning. It gave them undeserved credit, as if they were reasonable people, who could be swayed by evidence rather than just, well, pillocks.

In Knife Salman attempts an imaginary conversation with his persecutor.

OK, he says, Islam, unlike Judaism and Christianity, holds that man is not made in God’s image. God has no human qualities, it says.

But isn’t language a human quality? To have language, God would have to have a mouth, a tongue, vocal cords and a voice, just like a man. The terrorist’s understanding is that God cannot be like a man, however. So, God could not have spoken to Gabriel in Arabic. Gabriel must have translated his message when he came to the prophet.

The angel made it comprehensible to Muhammed by delivering it in human speech which is not the speech of God.

Thus, the version of Islamic instruction Matar received in his basement when he switched from playing video games to listening to Imams was an interpretation of a translation.

“I’m trying to suggest to you that, even according to your own tradition, there is uncertainty. Some of your own early philosophers have suggested this. They say everything can be interpreted, even the Book. It can be interpreted according to the times in which the interpreter lives. Literalism is a mistake.”

For a while, Rushdie says he wants to meet Matar again at the trial, as if he wants to have the argument in the flesh.

He tells a story about Samuel Beckett, which could only have happened to Samuel Beckett.

Beckett was walking through Paris in 1938 when he was confronted by a pimp named Prudent, who wanted money from him. Beckett pushed Prudent away, whereupon the pimp pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the chest, narrowly missing the left lung and the heart.

Beckett was taken to the nearest hospital, bleeding heavily. He only just survived.

You will never guess who paid for his treatment. James Joyce, of course, he did.

Anyway, Beckett went to the pimp’s trial. He met Prudent in the courtroom, and asked him why he had done it. This was the pimp’s reply: “Je ne sais pas, monsieur. Je m’excuse.” (I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry.)

But the more he thought about it, the less Rushdie had to say to his enemy. The idea that you can have theological arguments with a man who wants to kill you for writing a book he hasn’t even read felt ridiculous.

Although popular culture is full of stories about murderers, and true crime podcasts top the charts, killers and fanatics are nearly always less interesting than their victims. More often than not they are just thick. Nasty and vicious, but thick first of all.

We are about to see the stupidity of fanatics deployed on a mass scale. Two thirds of Republican voters (and nearly 3 in 10 Americans) continue to believe that the 2020 election was stolen from Donald Trump, and that Joe Biden was not lawfully elected. They think it because that is what Trump told them to think.

Islamists told Matar that Salman was an apostate, and that was all he needed to know. Trump told Republicans the election was stolen and ditto.

If Republicans were consistent people, they would not vote for Trump in 2024. What would be the point? They would have every reason to fear that the deep state would rig the 2024 presidential election as it rigged the 2020 presidential election.

But they will vote for him because, once again, that is what he tells them to do.

In the end there is a limit to how much attention you can pay the vicious and the stupid.

They are not interesting enough, as Rushdie concluded with marvellous disdain as he contemplated the life sentence Matar will face.

"Here we stand: the man who failed to kill an unarmed seventy-five-year-old writer, and the now 76-year-old writer. Somewhat to my surprise, I find I have very little to say to you. Our lives touched each other for an instant and then separated. Mine has improved since that day, while yours has deteriorated. You made a bad gamble and lost. I was the one with the luck… Perhaps, in the incarcerated decades that stretch out before you, you will learn introspection, and come to understand that you did something wrong. But you know what? I don’t care. This, I think, is what I have come to this courtroom to say to you. I don’t care about you, or the ideology that you claim to represent, and which you represent so poorly. I have my life, and my work, and there are people who love me. I care about those things.”

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evermorecountsastherapy · 3 months

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★ of literature and lingering contingence ★

pairing: Gale Dekarios (BG3) x fem!reader (unnamed, no use of y/n, second person)

tags/warnings: fluff, teasing, literary references, established relationship, post-canon, shameless smut (soooo much of it), soft dom gale, porn with plot, praise kink, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, oral sex, rough sex, love confessions, a lot of sappy stuff toward the end, explicit sexual content: MDNI please

word count: 12,400

a/n: recently was gripped by the most powerful wave of Gale brain rot that I have ever experienced and this absolute monstrosity emerged as a result. initially vaguely inspired by this fanart that has rerouted and taken over every single one of my functioning braincells (I don't know the artist, pls pls let me me know if you do! I owe them a life debt for creating that piece!) this was also inspired by the literary masterpiece Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë (let's just pretend it exists in 1492 DR, alright?) if requested, I will consider writing a second part to this story, seeing as I really enjoyed writing this. as a fair warning, this is about 85% filth and 15% sappy lovesick stuff so enter at your own risk!

★ AO3 link ★

✦ playlist link ✦

Enjoy!

image taken from Pinterest

Out of all the days in the week, Sundays had to be your favourite.

It was the one day where you never had any obligations or responsibilities to worry about, and you often found yourself with nothing to do but relax.

It wasn't, however, this lack of routine that you loved so much but rather the fact that Gale's schedule followed a very similar pattern as yours, leaving nothing for both of you to do but spend the entire day in each other's company. After the perilous, action-packed journey you'd both come back from a mere few months ago, you were both more than happy to catch up on quality down time together.

And this Sunday had turned out to be no different. You'd been tucked away together in his tower all day, watching as the bright sun rose early that morning through the crack in the balcony's drapes, your bodies tangled both together and in the soft sheets. Later on that afternoon, you'd watched it set again from where you were nestled together on his worn antique couch, his head using your lower stomach as a pillow and his body encased between your legs beneath the blanket he had thrown over the both of you, a worn copy of Jane Eyre open in his hands.

A few weeks prior, the two of you had been discussing your favourite books over dinner (as was a popular topic of discussion wherever you and him were involved) and at one point, you'd casually quoted that very same literary work. This earned you a puzzled look from Gale, his brow quirking in a way you realized he genuinely didn't catch your reference. You were equally surprised by this revelation; until then, you had yet to mention a book that Gale hadn't already read and meticulously analyzed.

This was a definitely a first.

The thought made you somewhat giddy, already planning to be up at the crack of dawn the next morning to grab your equally well-loved and annotated copy from your place on the other side of Waterdeep. You were in the process of selling your old apartment, seeing as you had moved in with Gale after the War and spent the majority of your time outside of work with him at his tower. It would be a good opportunity to bring a few more of your things over to his place, as you had been doing over these last few months.

So that was exactly what you did. Every night from then on, after Gale had finished grading papers for the students he taught at Blackstaff and you'd cleaned yourself up after a long day at the House of Healing, the two of you would curl up on the living room couch next to the blazing mantle and read the story of Jane Eyre together. The idea that his initial reading should be a group activity and that he would be the narrator of the story was entirely his idea, and one that you'd found hard to refuse. You did love the sound of his voice, so listening to it perpetually for hours was only an added bonus.

This was precisely where you found yourself now, once again curled up on his couch watching as dusk fell and lingered on the corners of the room, the addition of flickering candlelight creating the coziest atmosphere in the little space. Head nestled in the space between your lower abdomen and pubic bone, your lover's voice read the words off the pages in front of him with a hushed enthusiasm that made you think he would be wonderful as a children's storyteller. You would have to mention that to him later.

"...still he looked preciously grim, cushioning his massive head against the swelling back of his chair, and receiving the light of the fire on his granite-hewn features, and in his great, dark eyes; for he had great, dark eyes, and very fine eyes, too—not without a certain change in their depths sometimes, which, if it was not softness, reminded you, at least, of that feeling. He had been looking two minutes at the fire, and I had been looking the same length of time at him, when, turning suddenly, he caught my gaze fastened on his physiognomy." Gale read aloud, his voice hypnotically rhythmic.

Each word he spoke reverberated on to your stomach, sending gentle, electrical pulses all throughout your body. The feeling was enough to warm you a little more with each passing minute, a familiar yet patient desire beginning to grow inside of you. Your fingers began to lightly play with his loose locks in an attempt to distract you from your growing arousal, his hair so gently manipulated you doubted he could even feel your ministrations.

"'You examine me, Miss Eyre,' said he: 'do you think me handsome?'"

You smiled as you immediately recognized this as one of your favourite parts in the book, your hands idly starting to braid a small section of his hair to mask your excitement. By the way the pitch of his voice had changed ever so slightly, you were inclined to think Gale was genuinely interested in where the dialogue in the story might go from here.

"I should, if I had deliberated, have replied to this question by something conventionally vague and polite; but the answer somehow slipped from my tongue before I was aware—'No, sir.'"

Gale let out a hearty chuckle as he read the last dialogue tag, resting the book face down for a moment on his lap to peer up at you.

"This girl reminds me of someone I know, actually," he said with a grin.

This earned him a quiet laugh back, only briefly pausing your braiding to look at his smiling face. "Oh yeah? And who might that be?" You asked playfully, your minding immediately thinking of your mutual friend, Shadowheart.

"You, my love," he answered, his grin now taking on a more mischievous air to it that rendered your lungs temporarily useless as your heart skipped a beat, the feeling leaving you a little light-headed. With how much his smile grew after your reaction, you were sure he had a fairly good idea of how he was affecting you.

"Keep going!" You laughed before the blush in your cheeks could grow anymore, setting him back on track with a light tap of your free hand against his stubbled cheek. Looking pleased with himself, he picked the book back up and continued reading.

"'Ah! By my word! there is something singular about you,' said he: 'you have the air of a little nonnette; quaint, quiet, grave, and simple, as you sit with your hands before you, and your eyes generally bent on the carpet (except, by-the-bye, when they are directed piercingly to my face; as just now, for instance); and when one asks you a question, or makes a remark to which you are obliged to reply, you rap out a round rejoinder, which, if not blunt, is at least brusque. What do you mean by it?'" He finished reading the last line with a sigh, lowering the book slightly to look up at you once again.

"I'd say he's definitely into her, wouldn't you agree?" He conjectured aloud.

You smiled, happy to see his engagement in the story you loved so dearly. "Uh-huh," you agreed, focusing your concentration on finishing the little braid in his hair.

"What is it that you're so busy with up there, hm?" He asked, reaching his hand up to touch the braid you'd just completed. A smile spread back across his lips as he realized what you'd done with his hair. "Oh, that feels like it looks lovely. Thank you, dear."

He reached over to set the book onto the coffee table, pushing the empty mugs the two of you had been sipping warm tea from earlier aside to make room for it. With a small, barely audible sigh, he sat up between your legs and twisted his torso to face you, his hand resting just beside your outer thigh to support his body weight.

"I might make this to be part of the signature look. What do you think? I'll admit I feel considerably more handsome with it." He said, caressing the braid with one hand, his big eyes boring into yours with a lingering glint of mischief. "Do you think me handsome, young lady?"

Every functioning braincell in your body screamed "yes!" at the question he posed to you, especially seeing as you had let him know how attractive you found him on more than one occasion that week alone. If he hadn't quoted Mr. Rochester so eloquently, you might have been inclined to answer in this same way. Something mischievous, however, bubbled up inside you when he said it, your curiosity wanting to see what might become of teasing him ever so slightly.

"No, sir," you answered, a slight quirk in your lips.

His eyes seemed to grow darker almost instantly, a smirk forming as a product of your quip. For what it was worth, you assumed the borrowed line would earn you little more than a hearty laugh and an incentive for him to continue reading. Your emphasis on the title (one you had never taken to calling him before) looked to have stirred something more than innocent amusement inside of him and you briefly wondered if calling him that was the best decision on your part.

You did need your legs to work come tomorrow, after all.

The thought sent a shiver down your spine, your mind giving you flashbacks of that time on the road with the party when you'd decided to tease him a little too thoroughly. The result? Yours and Gale's night of passion had become so intense that you had no choice but to stay back at camp the next day, every muscle in your body sore and aching. Gale had stayed back with you, ever the gentleman, doting on you and almost ridiculously apologetic for the adventure you'd be missing out on that day because of him. As sorry as he was, however, it didn't stop him from fucking you senseless against a tree in the forest a short distance from the camp when you'd begged him. Against your better judgement, you'd teased him like that on more than one occasion since you'd been back from your travels together and each end result turned out to be better (or worse) than the last, if that was even possible.

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly moved closer toward you, walking his hands forward along the cushion underneath of you, the insides of his wrists just barely brushing the sides of your torso. Your breath caught in your chest as he hovered over you, dark eyes staring back into yours like a starved predator that had just found its next meal.

"No?" He breathed, his face mere inches away from yours. Candlelight flickered off his sharp features, the sight momentarily mesmerizing you and causing you to shift your gaze away from his intense eyes and onto his rosy lips, delicate and soft looking compared to his somewhat rugged features. He noticed this shift in your attention almost immediately, bringing his index finger up under your chin to gently guide your gaze back toward him.

"Say it again." He commanded, voice stern.

A familiar dizzying feeling that originated in your stomach came over as you processed his words. It left you a little breathless once again, your senses now properly heady with growing desire.

"No, I don't think you handsome." You near-whispered back to him, his lips so close to yours now that they were almost touching, causing your eyelids to droop slightly with desire. "Sir."

His head dropped painstakingly closer at your confession, the space between your mouths so miniscule it would've only taken you to flinch to touch your lips to his. His warm breath mixed with yours and you wanted nothing more in that moment than to wrap your arms around his neck and properly smother him. But at the same time, you also wanted to know what game he was playing at, genuinely curious to see where this might lead. You were the one who had started it, after all.

Slowly, he lowered his lips to yours, only giving you the faintest whisper of a kiss before you felt a smile grow on his lips and he whispered against your mouth, "And I think you're a liar."

The words reacted with your body in a way that threatened to prove him right, that warm feeling pooling in your lower abdomen turning a temperature not far off from molten lava. Gale must have easily picked up on this from the way he let out a breathy little laugh into the corner of your mouth, his neatly stubbled chin brushing against yours slightly.

"And you know how I feel about liars, don't you, love?" He teased in that voice usually saved for his classroom at Blackstaff, his mouth moving to place delicate kisses along your cheek and slowly working his way down, his head burrowing itself in the crook of your neck. Your hands finally betrayed you, your arms snaking their way around the sides of his head, your fingers threading themselves through his soft hair in an attempt to keep him in that position.

His affections moved lower down your neck and into the space just below your clavicle, his one hand moving to fiddle with the little buttons that held closed one of the old button up shirts of his you'd thrown on earlier that morning. It was your usual Sunday attire, the length of it long enough to rest just above your knees, the need to wear pants with it futile when it would just be the two of you for the day. That and you knew how crazy it drove him to see you in nothing but one of his shirts and a thin pair of underwear.

Freeing the first button, he brough his mouth back down to your skin as he worked on the next ones. "Not only do they need to be punished for their miscreant behaviors, but that behavior also needs to be rectified if there is any hope of them recovering from their impropriety." He said somewhat breathlessly against your chest, the sound vibrating throughout your entire body.

No sooner did the final button on your shirt give way was the thin material being yanked open by eager hands, the slight chill that lingered in the tower causing your bare nipples to perk. Gale pulled away slightly to rake his eyes over your partially exposed body, his gaze like a comforting caress you'd come to know so well and long for so often.

He whispered something under his breath that sounded much like 'Gods...' before shifting back down to press his warm mouth to the space between your breasts. The feeling was like no other. It was magical; he was magical, with or without the power of the Weave.

His soft lips drifted over your breast to land on your nipple, kissing it softly while looking up to meet your eyes, asking for permission. You sucked in a short breath and managed to nod ever so slightly, too focused on what he was doing to be able to think clearly. Slowly, his wet tongue met with your sensitive nipple, the sensation of that mixed with the suction his mouth had created driving you wild. Against your own volition, your back arched upward into him as if you were nothing more than a marionette whose strings were tied to his practiced fingertips, every movement your body made just an extension of his careful manipulation of your desire. You didn't particularly mind; Gale was one of the only guys you'd ever met who had taken so much time to learn in great detail the ways in which to make you feel good. It was something you never thought you'd come to have in life, though now that you had it, you knew you would never be able to settle for anything less.

A pathetic-sounding whimper escaped past your lips as his tongue swirled around your nipple for a final time before alternating to your other breast. You could feel how his breathing had increased since he had started his form of worship on your body, his exhales fanning out in little pants of warm air over your breast. It was almost too much to bear.

Before you could open your mouth to demand he just take you already, his mouth detached itself from your breast to trail intermittent kisses down your stomach, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt your heart skip a beat as he passed over your navel, his fingers coming to rest at the waistband of your underwear.

"Shall we continue?" He asked with his chin hovering just above your pubic bone, a certain hunger palpable in his aura. "Or will I need to find other ways to change my pretty little liar's mind?"

You managed a desperate nod and when he didn't make any move to continue, a strangled, "Yes, please."

Your words seemed to appease him and with a swift motion, your underwear was down your legs and being slipped off your ankles, falling to the floor along with the blanket the two of you had been covered up with earlier. He snaked his arms under your knees, pushing them up gently and guiding your feet over his shoulders so that you were fully exposed to him. You felt your heart rate spike a little when his hands came to rub along your outer thighs and hips reverently, placing little kisses along your inner thighs and inching closer and closer to the apex of them.

A breathless gasp escaped you as you watched him place a firm kiss to the center of your clit, the sudden sensation making you squirm in his grasp. A quick, victorious smile spread across his lips at your reaction and you had the sudden premonition that you were really about to be in for it.

Opening his mouth slightly, he placed that 'practiced' tongue of his flat against that little bundle of nerves before curling it wickedly to swirl the bud around in a way that made your head spin. The sensation itself was almost too much to bear, though in the same breath, you prayed to any god you could think of just to beg that he would never stop.

As if he could read your mind, his mouth moved further down your slit to lap at the pooling wetness that gathered farther down. A low moan escaped your chest at the sight and you felt him smile again in response, his eyelids fluttering slightly to look at you through thick lashes.

"How's the view, my dear?" He asked teasingly, pulling away from your heat slightly to give you a good look at the thick layer of your juices that glistened on and around his lips, showcasing the sinful mess like some kind of artwork. "Changed your mind yet?"

You contemplated this for a second while frantically trying to catch your breath, the way he was looking at you from between your dampened thighs making this a near impossible task itself. As much as you wanted to admit how you loved the way he looked from your current perspective, you loved toying with his ego just as much. It was simply too much fun, not to mention exceptionally rewarding (sexually and otherwise) for you more often than not.

"I- I'd like to see the full extent of your talents before... coming to a decision." Throwing what you hoped was a seductive smile his way, you added, "If you'd be willing to indulge me, that is."

This earned you one of his heart-stopping smirks, that sparkle in his eyes a telltale sign of both his amusement and arousal. "Oh, finally found your words, have you? If you insist, my little minx." He retorted, voice suddenly dropping down to that husky octave he knew drove you wild. "I'd be my pleasure."

Yep, you definitely were not going to be walk out of this one on functional legs. That much you were now certain about.

His eyes still locked with yours, he sank his face down between your legs once again, his tongue moving to press against your entrance this time while his nose nestled itself against your clit. The feeling set off an intense fluttering sensation in your stomach and you had to fight the sudden urge to buck against him.

Without warning, his hands curled themselves around the back of your thighs and gripped your hips firmly, pulling you up to meet his face at an even more flush angle. With the better access granted to him from your new position, he started lapping away at your pussy with such fervor you couldn't help the desperate whimpers you tried to supress from escaping the back of your throat. He continued to work his tongue up and down your delicate folds, occasionally breaking rhythm to push his tongue into your tight pussy teasingly.

The way he was working your sex felt nothing short of heavenly, a juxtaposition to the absolutely sinful noises coming from both his mouth and intense suckling. His eyes closed at some point in the process, his brow furrowed in deep concentration and - from what you could see in the dim candlelight - a light blush beginning to creep into his cheeks, staining them an adorably rosy pink. The sight itself was nearly enough to send you over the edge. He truly was beautiful.

Your pleasure took on new heights when his thumb crept along your hip to land on your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make you squirm uncontrollably. Your hand moved instinctively to clutch the top of his head, your fingers finding purchase in his smooth tresses in yet another desperate attempt to keep him right where he was. The added stimulation was almost too much, and you felt that familiar string of desire grow taught behind your navel with every swipe of his tongue. Gale, sensing the fast-approaching crest of your orgasm, took this as motivation to increase the intensity of his ministrations, his tongue lapping at your wet cunt like a man starved. Your chest heaved to a point you were certain you couldn't take anymore, a few sections of your loose hair sticking to and curling around your neck a little more each time you tossed your head from side to side on the plush pillow your neck rested on. The change in pace caused the cross between a whimper and a moan to escape from the back of your throat and your grip on his hair grew impossibly tighter.

"Mmm... that's it, darling. Let me hear that pretty voice of yours. You're doing so good for me, so good..." he breathed against your pussy, his warm breath on your sensitive parts only adding to the sweet torture. His eyes flitted open, locking directly onto yours while his thumb - ever persistent - continued it's own form of artistry on your clit. "Now, come for me."

His words were enough to finally push you over the edge, your climax surging through your body in wave of pure ecstasy. A desperate moan erupted from within you as your hips bucked into his face, your voice ringing out suddenly in the space around you. A low, guttural sound released itself from deep within his chest and reverberated deliciously off your pussy as he ate you through completion. The feeling was utterly intoxicating, and you were certain nothing you had ever experienced up until that point felt nearly as good as this.

"Good girl, falling apart so beautifully for me," he praised as he softly lowered your trembling hips back down to meet the couch cushion after giving your clit one last kiss and pulling away slightly. His chest heaved with exertion as he licked his lips with a lascivious smile. "Might I dare ask for the verdict? Or is it too soon?"

Your hands moved to brush away a few loose strands of hair from where they fell in front of his eyes, your palm resting on his stubbled cheek. Taking quiet notice of the way his ends of his hair had started to curl slightly from your mixed perspirations, you realized you felt about as flush as he looked though you had no intentions of leaving the extent of your fun at that for the night. A blissful post-orgasmic haze washed over you and you felt that you were all but glowing with how much love you harbored for him in that particular moment.

"You've never looked so beautiful as you do now," you answered, trying to catch your breath. "How is it that you're my man?"

He smiled, a rare and bashful boyish kind that only emerged as a result of any praise you gave him. Over time, you'd found this to be a reaction only you could stir from him, whether it was in relation to his beautifully bright mind and the extensive knowledge he kept within it or his considerable talent both in and out of the bedroom. Either way, you always loved seeing the way your words could affect him. After all, you'd just experienced (yet again) how much a few words from him could affect you. It only seemed fair.

Speaking of fair, you were reminded of how much you suddenly longed to even the scoreboard between the two of you and at least attempt to show him an equal act of reciprocity as he came over you again, the noticeable bulge in his trousers brushing briefly against your thigh as he brought himself to hover over you. The feeling intensified as he brought his lips down to meet yours once again, the lingering taste of yourself on his tongue driving you even more wild.

"I am yours, body and soul," he whispered between kisses. "And you, my dear, are all mine."

His tongue tangled with yours with a way that moved from sweet and gentle to hungry and primal, as if he was trying to further prove his point by claiming you with his mouth. The intensity of it was enough to stoke the fire in your core again, the thought of him laying claim to you in such a way intercepting any coherent though from forming in your head. You nearly forgot about your improvised plan as his hands roved their way up your sides and kneaded your breasts in a way you knew he wasn't finished wringing pleasure from you and showing you the ways in which you were his. Appealing as it was to you, the thought of how he would look writhing under you as you drew out wave after wave of pleasure from him was really what set your loins alight.

"There is another angle that I'd like to test out, however," you managed to breathe out against his fervent kisses, causing him to slow ever so slightly in interest.

He raised an eyebrow, a curious look glimmering in his eye. "Is that so?"

You nodded.

"And what might that be?" He asked.

You dragged your hands along his torso just as he had done to you, goosebumps rising in their wake. "Let me show you," you whispered against his lips.

His lips met with your again as you began to sit up from where you lay on the couch, placing a gentle hand to his chest as you pushed him onto his back and your other hand moved a pillow under his head, careful to never break your kiss in the process. You felt his breath hitch as you fumbled with the buttons on his long cardigan, his hands coming up to weave themselves in your hair. The thought of pleasing him so easily made your heart soar; you wanted to nothing more than to make him feel as good as he had made you feel and it made you indescribably happy to know you were already on your way there.

Little time elapsed between the point where you finished undoing the last button on his sweater and when it was being shrugged down and off his shoulders, landing somewhere on the floor beside the couch. You finally broke your intense kiss to move slightly back and take in the view of his bare chest before you.

The sight of him never failed to take your breath away; his broad shoulders and defined muscles looking like they were carefully crafted by the hands of the gods themselves, the flickering candlelight highlighting the depth of his considerable pectoral muscles and the swirls of dark hair that ran along them and down his chest. You couldn't help but follow the little trail from where it was thickest across his sternum down to where it thinned out slightly over his abdominal muscles and then grew denser where his trousers rested. The thought of what lies beneath them made your core clench around nothing, your need to pleasure him growing with each passing minute.

You watched the rise and fall of his chest quicken as you laid your hands on his stomach gently, moving them up slowly toward his pectorals in exploration as you lowered your head to burrow into his neck. His hands took hold of your torso to bring it flush against his as you alternated between placing delicate kisses on his neck and gently nipping at it, moving into that spot just below his right ear you knew made him particularly responsive. Sure enough, a low groan escaped him as your lips met his skin there, his hands tightening their grip on you. You smiled before jutting your tongue out to press it against his warm neck and then sealing it by pressing a kiss over it once more.

This seemed to stir something entirely new and hungry in him, his hands now desperately seeking purchase on the sides of your head and bringing your lips up to meet his once again. He let out another groan as he devoured you, your mouths moving in a frantic tandem against each other in an intense dance of tongues and lips. You wanted it to last forever.

Pulling away slightly for air, you watched as a small string of saliva connected your bottom lips. The sight of it made you feel weak with desire, suddenly picturing what that same string of spittle might look on other certain parts of him. From the way he was eyeing your lip in return, you guessed the sight ignited something similar in him.

"You torture me, wicked girl" he rasped.

"Oh, sweet thing," you smiled innocently, "we're only getting started."

You saw his eyes widen ever so slightly at your insinuation and you felt a sense of pride in your choice of words. It wasn't easy to leave Gale Dekarios speechless, though you'd just done it singlehandedly.

Lowering your lips back to down to meet his chest, you heard him sharply inhale above you as you placed gentle kisses down his sternum and through the trail of hair that grew there. His scent filled your nostrils: a mix of the sweet-smelling body wash he used, the musk that rubbed off the ancient leather-bound books he always had his nose stuck in, and a tinge of sweat that had accumulated over the course of the day. It had to be one of your favourite scents, so familiar to you by now that it had, at some point, started to smell like home to you. You relaxed at the thought, any lingering anxiety you harbored and carried with you up until that point melting away into nothingness.

Your kisses trailed lower down his stomach as you dragged your fingernails lightly along his chest as you went, his breaths increasing a little more the closer you got to the waistband of his loose-fitting trousers. When you could travel down no farther, you moved your hands to rest on top of his hips, gently massaging the muscles underneath and looking back up to meet his eyes once again.

You knew this type of intercourse - one where he was the one on the receiving end, rather than the other way around - was a sensitive area for him. For years, he'd become accustomed to sexual experiences that only served to satisfy the other party: his goddess. Gale was nothing if not a generous lover and as much as you believed him when he told how arousing he found going down on you, the thought of him not receiving the same amount of care and devotion he gave to his goddess - to you - simply didn't sit right with you.

Mystra had him smitten from a young age, using her celestial power to always extract exactly what she wanted from him. The thought made you sick on the best of days, and what was even worse was how Gale had stood completely oblivious to her toxic manipulation of him until you entered his life not even a year ago. To heal from the damage that she'd inflicted over such a considerably long time was no small feat for him, though it was a battle you refused to let him fight alone in. You were in it together, no matter how rough the road ahead got at times. And oh, could it get rough.

You recalled one of the nights you'd spent together early on in your relationship when you'd begun to explore each other's bodies more freely. What started as an innocent make out session in his tent quickly turned heated and desperate, the thrill of the newfound lust sizzling between the two of you giving you the confidence to attempt to try something new. You'd accumulated a certain amount of guilt over the previous few nights from how he would spend literal hours pleasuring you in ways you hadn't dreamed possible up until that point and then proceed to tuck both of you into bed when he sensed you were well and truly spent for the time being, not giving you the chance to even attempt to return the favor.

On this particular night, however, you'd managed to beat him to the chase. All was well until you'd shimmied his night pants down his legs and took hold of his cock, stroking it in a way you hoped felt at least alright to him. His muscles tensed at your touch and his face contorted slightly, raising himself up suddenly on his elbows in alarm.

"W-What are you doing, love? I thought..." he asked, his sudden concerning behavior instantly causing you to believe you'd done something wrong. It was your first time having done such things to a man before, and the confidence you felt in your abilities was already scarce and dwindling to start off with.

You instantly pulled back, taking your hands off his body and shoving them under your arms as if you'd been burned as your heart began to hammer in your chest. "Oh gods, I'm sorry, Gale. I- I can't believe I... I’m really sorry, I've never done this before and I was... just... just trying to make you feel good too, as you've done for me all these nights. It just seemed... fair to me." You rambled as your voice began to quiver, desperately fighting back the sudden onslaught of tears that threatened to prickle through and overflow so easily. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him and ruin this beautiful thing you'd built together.

The look on his face at your confession was equal parts remorseful and understanding. "Oh love, no. You are doing wonderfully. I'm the one at fault here and I apologize, I regret not wording that question better. I just... well, these are new sensations to me, you see. I am uh... somewhat unexperienced in this area as well." He scratched the back of his head, his cheeks reddening slightly from what you assumed was both his own confession and how his body was currently fully exposed. You reached over to retrieve one of his blankets and drape it over him gently, hoping it would help him to feel less self conscious.

Realization hit you like an early morning light as you smoothed the blanket down. "Have you ever had...?" You asked quietly. To think Gale - your sweet, precious Gale who could give head intense enough to cause you to nearly leave your body all together and was by far the most doting lover you'd ever known - had yet to experience a basic level of reciprocity from a lover at this point in his life was something you had a hard time wrapping your head around. If that was simply something thing he wasn't into, then that was completely understandable in and of itself. But to never have had that offer given to him in the first place? What kind of relationship had he had with this goddess of his?

"Would you laugh if I said I hadn't?" He answered, his voice dropping down to the same octave as yours.

"Are you kidding? Of course not!" You reassured him, taking one of his hands to give it a firm squeeze of solidarity. "Though the question is... is this something you want? I would really love to give this to you, but only if you're comfortable with it."

His hand gave yours a squeeze back almost instantaneously, maneuvering the placement of his to thread his fingers in between yours. "I would love nothing more. Though I will warn you, the experience might not... last very long. Considering..." He said sheepishly, giving you a half smile and motioning to the tent that had been created between his legs when you placed the blanket over him.

"Gale Dekarios, you are an utter fool if you think I care even for a second about such things." You leaned over to kiss him once before returning to your original position between his legs, taking the blanket on his lap with you.

Gale had been truthful in his confession, as always. He had come undone for you with little more than a bit of light teasing and a few strokes to his cock, your warm mouth wrapping around the tip to catch his spend in an attempt to please him further. It definitely seemed to work, the intensity of the orgasm that ripped through him bringing him to literal tears. The reaction flattered you more than anything, though you were a little concerned about the true meaning of the tears that erupted from him so suddenly.

After gently redressing his lower half, putting out the lanterns in his tent, and pulling a blanket over the both of you, you settled beside him in bed for the night. He'd nuzzled his head into your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you, bringing your body as close to his as possible.

And then he'd gently wept into your shoulder for the better part of an hour.

It was the most vulnerability he'd shown you until that point, and your heart broke to know he'd been carrying around that hurt within him for heaven knows how long. Despite it all, you felt a certain energy change in the tent that night, as if years worth of trauma had begun to lift itself off his shoulders. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't cried along with him when he started whispering how sorry he was; sorry that he was so weak and naive in the face of Mystra, sorry that he loved you so much and smothered you with his emotions like this, sorry that he was the one you decided to love.

How he could ever believe such things to be true felt like someone driving a stake right through your heart and twisting the handle maliciously. Since the moment you made the decision to pull him out of that mysterious rune after you'd crashed on the Nautiloid, you'd felt nothing but pure, blossoming adoration for the man. With his flowery language and bad jokes, he emerged as a small but bright and persistent beacon of light in your otherwise bleak life and for that you were forever grateful. When he told you the story behind his need for magical artifacts and of what Mystra had done to him - how she'd used him for so many years and then simply tossed him aside at the drop of a hat - you'd struggled to fight back tears the entire time he talked, his face alarmingly calm and passive as he spoke of his mistreatment. His words replayed themselves in your mind as you tried to fall asleep each night from then on, utterly and thoroughly disgusted with the woman this sweet wizard worshipped and even more furious at the fact that she'd done such a good job of pulling the wool over his eyes for so long. And then came the night when dear old Elminster barged his way into your camp to deliver Gale his death sentence, handed down by none other than the conniving goddess herself. His emotions had been intense that night, though you could hardly call your moment in the meadow together "smothering". You loved him, even with all his strings attached. You loved him, and nothing could ever change that, not even death.

And so, this was exactly what you told him, your voice unwavering as you professed your conviction into the top of his head. His tears began to slow as he whispered over and over how much he loved you and how glad he was to have found you between jagged inhales. You echoed his sentiments and placed soft kisses to sporadic spots on his head, wishing there was a way to kiss all the hurt off of him. While massaging small circles into his bare back with your fingertips, you felt his breathing begin to slow and after a few minutes you knew he had fallen asleep in your arms.

Something between you had shifted that night, as if both of you had finally realized how much you needed each other. The rest was history from there.

How far you'd come in those few months to end up where you were now, lounging and making love to each other on his couch in Waterdeep. You could recall when the very idea of relaxing a random Sunday away on a couch seemed like a luxury, never mind being able to spend that day alongside the love of your life. There was a time when certain death loomed over your head so heavily it might as well have been set in stone, making the idea of dreaming up a future beyond a few weeks in advance feel laughable. Hells, Gale had even been given orders to sacrifice himself by his ex-goddess, hadn't he? Yet here you both were, against all odds.

As you looked into his eyes from your position between his legs - a position so similar to the one you'd been in that night - you briefly entertained the idea of his mind drifting back to that very same memory you shared with him. You wondered if he too contemplated the unexpected turn your lives had taken you in and the mystery behind the lucky hand both of you had ultimately been dealt. Either way, you were contented to know that everything had turned out for the better.

"Tell me, baby," you whispered, your tone equal parts seductive and playful. "Is this what you want?" You slipped your index finger just under the waistband of his trousers and dragged it along his skin lightly, watching his reaction carefully.

He sucked in a breath, his eyes growing dark once again. "Yes. Oh gods, yes." When you simply raised an eyebrow, he added a pained, "Please."

Satisfied, you undid the fastenings on his trousers and pulled them down his legs, throwing them in the general direction he'd thrown your underwear earlier. His cock sprang free from it's confines immediately, painfully erect from where it stood in front of your face. You looked back up at him once more, waiting for just one more sign of approval.

His hand squeezed the one that rested again on his hip in return, his other hand reaching down to cup your cheek gently. His fingers brushed against your jawline briefly before threading themselves through your hair and gathering it up and away from your face. You smiled at the endearing gesture (even if it was only to give him a better view of what you were doing) and placed your hand around the base of his cock, marveling at its size. Gale truly was a work of art, inside and out.

Slowly, you brought your hand up his shaft and rested your thumb on his swollen tip, relaxing your hand to mold to his girth as you went. You saw him tilt his head up to the ceiling in your periphery, his other hand detaching itself from yours to tangle his fingers in your hair on the other side of your head. Any loose strands that had potential for getting in the way went with it, clearing the way for you to work your own kind of magic on him.

After stroking his length a few times, you lowered your lips to gently kiss the tip of his cock. His fingers in your hair tightened in response and you couldn't help but smile; how fast this man could fold from simple foreplay never failed to amaze you. Lifting slightly to lick your lips, you lowered back down onto his cock, this time slowly taking him into your mouth. Breathing through your nose, you took as much of him as you could before hollowing out your cheeks and sucking in that way you knew made him melt beneath you.

"Oh - oh, fuck! Yes, just like that. Don't stop, please - don't..." he cried out above you, that usual eloquent vocabulary he was so predisposed to using now replaced by half-finished, non-sensical sentences.

You eagerly take his encouragement to continue and begin what starts as a slow bob along his length, your lips stretching around his girth as his cock stinks a little farther down your throat with each pass. Your pace gradually picks up, the little beads of saliva escaping your lips mixing with his milky precum, aiding your ability to glide along his length. As you do, you feel your tongue trace down one of his veins and his pulse began to hammer in your mouth. You'd never felt anything quite like it before, the sensation sending tangible pools of heat between your legs once again, your body and clit alike buzzing with arousal.

Your hand drifts back to the base of his cock as you come up for air, his tip slipping from your mouth with a little pop that coaxed his eyes open again. He looked confused at the sudden loss of stimulation coming from your mouth and you tried telling yourself it was only to tease him along, not because your vision had become almost completely obscured by your watering eyes and you were in desperate need of a minute to catch your breath. Well, you thought, maybe it was a bit of both.

"Is it oh-" he started, interrupted by a clever flick of your wrist around his shaft. "Is it your intent t- to break me into a thousand pieces with your sweet torment?" His voice shook a great deal more than you presumed he intended for it to with each syllable that passed through his lips. "Because if it is... you've shattered me."

Smiling, you continued to pump his length torturously, moving to settle back down to where his balls lay to pepper wet kisses over the surface of them. "Perhaps..." you teased as he moaned again loudly, your explorative ministration clearly affecting him in the best of ways. "Besides ... your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still."

Your quote's origin was lost on him, though the meaning of your words definitely was not. You looked forward to the day when the two of you would come across that very same line in the book you were reading, however long that might take you.

"Waxing poetic as we're making love, are you now? If I didn't know any better, I might think my habits are starting to rub off on you."

You shot him a wicked smile before trailing your tongue up his length, already dripping with your combined fluids. When you reach the top, you take one last inhale through your nose before taking him in your mouth again, doing your best to concentrate on relaxing your throat as you take him in as far as you can manage. You feel the little patch of curls at his root brush against the tip of your nose as you hold yourself there, the fingers he had threaded in your hair pulling at your scalp painfully.

Although you sensed his release was fast approaching, he pulled your head off his cock forcefully with little warning. His sudden change in behavior confused you, though you knew from the wild look in his eye when he brought your head up to be in line with his that you had done nothing to upset him, but rather the opposite.

"Did you really think you'd get away with that, little minx?" He taunted, propping himself up on the hand that didn't have your hair in a death grip, leaning in to give you a sloppy, breathless kiss. When you gave no immediate answer, he yanked your hair back a little, causing you to gasp. "Hmm? What was that?"

The sudden dark edge he had taken on shifted something within you, the increasing amount of adrenaline now running through your body igniting you need for him in ways you didn't know were possible. You knew this game he aimed to play; he told you he once read how a little bit of danger - of fear - could heighten other senses simultaneously as a way of flirting before your relationship had taken flight. Of course, you had given it right back to him, much to his incredulity, though he had yet to demonstrate his knowledge of the subject with you up until that point.

You shook your head weakly in response to his demanding question. When he merely raised an eyebrow, you managed to squeak out a pathetic, "No."

"No? 'No' what?" He asked again, shifting his bodyweight to sit up fully on his knees, his hand drifting to lazily stroke his cock beneath you. When he purposely dragged the tip along your stomach, you attempted to advert your eyes from his to look down. He was, unfortunately for you, already one step ahead of you and pulled your head back a little harder this time to force you to look at him over your nose. "Not yet, little mouse."

The new pet name had you feeling like you were practically coming apart at the seams and you barely managed a shaky inhale through your nose, all other senses completely and utterly overwhelmed.

"No, I didn't think that," You panted, voice barely above a whisper. The pieces finally clicked into place in your head and you added, in the most innocent way possible, what he really wanted: a squeaky little, “Sir."

If getting him to absolutely ravage you meant you were to be a helpless little mouse in his eyes, then you swore to fuck you were about to be the squeakiest little rodent in all of Faerûn.

"Turn around." Came his curt reply, letting go of your hair abruptly to allow you to move freely. You had no objection to his order, spinning around to sit obediently on your knees with your back to him. With hurried desperation, he helped you shrug the shirt you hadn't fully taken off before down your shoulders and onto the floor, wiggling back into him until his knees brushed the backside of yours, your shins abducted to rest along his outer thighs.

He wasted no time in rising on his knees, snaking his left arm around your hip to laying his hand flush against your lower abdomen while his right curled its way around your throat, tilting your head back slightly so you could glance over your shoulder at him. He had made sure to press his body as closely as he could against your backside in the process, his hardness pressed into the curve of your ass in a way that would've had you squirming if not for his firm grip on you.

"Look at you, needy little thing. What do you say we try another form of stimulation, hmm? Perhaps one that involves me bending you over and fucking you completely senseless until your mind is shattered into a thousand little pieces, just as you had intended for me?" His left hand trails lower to the apex of your thighs as he speaks, the pad of his middle finger rubbing your clit menacingly. The sensation has you whimpering in frustration, tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes from all his tortuous teasing.

"Yes, please, yes," you beg, desperately grinding back into him with a force that had him panting in your ear along with you.

Much to your dismay, he abruptly removed his adept finger from where it swirled idly around your clit, your body aching at the loss of such sweet stimulation. Before you could think much of it, however, his hand began manipulating his member, sliding it along your slick entrance and through your clenched thighs. It wasn't long before he was pressing the thick head of his cock into you, your back arching in response.

With what remained of his self-control, he gradually pushed into you, allowing you a few extra moments to adjust around his girth. Both of you let out a low groan of relief when he was finally fully seated inside you, his cock buried to the hilt. The feeling was nothing short of exquisite and you could feel your body already thrumming with pleasure.

Slowly, he started to thrust his hips up into yours, his warm sex burying deep within of you as his hand moved to grip your hip hard enough to leave bruises. The snap of hips gradually turned more forceful, and you could feel where the tip of him gently nudged at your cervix with each thrust. The sensation had you crying out, his loose grip on your throat suddenly growing firm.

"You feel so good, you know that?" He praised in your ear, your hair falling in your face from the force he was pounding into you with. His statement was punctuated with a low moan that just about made you lose your mind, the sound of his skin slapping against yours only adding to the effect. You felt like a ragdoll in his grip, your legs now completely useless and the rest of your body not far off from being delightfully limp.

As if sensing this weakness in you, he moved to gently hinge you forward so you could rest on your forearms, thoughtfully placing one of the thicker pillows under your stomach for support. You were instantly thankful for the short reprieve, especially when he lowered down to press his stomach into your back, his thrusts growing in intensity and desperation. Almost every part of his body was flush against yours as he fucked into you with abandon and you almost screamed aloud when his hand came to rest on your clit once more, massaging it in a way that nearly had your vision going black. It was no surprise to find your orgasm rapidly cresting once more, the buildup to it releasing frustrated tears from your eyes.

"That's it, my love, keep going. You're being such a good girl." He praised in your ear, using the hand he kept at your throat to turn your head to the side. Between his words and the speed at which he was suddenly strumming your clit at, you felt about ready to explode from the intensity of your pleasure. "I want you to come for me. Don't you dare hold back, I want to hear everything. I want to feel you."

It was the million sensations you felt crashing down on you all at once that finally tipped you over the edge, writhing beneath him helplessly as wave of earth-shattering euphoria washed over you. A synchronized moan released from both of you as you clenched around him, coaxing Gale to his own end. Driving into you one final time, you felt him spill himself as far inside you as he could manage, slumping against your back as you both fought to catch your breath.

"That was... wow," you breathed after a moment of silence. "Who taught you how to fuck like that?" As soon as the words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them. "Actually, never mind. I don't need to know that."

He laughed, kissing your cheek as you felt him twitch inside you for a final time. The feeling caused instant butterflies to take flight behind your navel, a contented little sigh leaving your chest. Despite both of you being truly and utterly spent for the rest of the night, his cock remained buried deep inside you, neither of you possessing the strength to peel apart from each other quite yet.

"Funny enough, a good portion of that came from that novel on your beside table you seem to like so much. The rest... well, I'm afraid that was all improvisation on my part, darling."

Your eyes widened at his words, instantly chiding yourself for leaving that book out in the open where his curious eyes would no doubt take a peek into it.

"You're kidding! Oh, please say you're messing with me!" You pleaded, somewhat horrified. You supposed you couldn't be too angry with him, though. The circumstances had turned out to be highly in your favor, after all.

"Unfortunately, I'm not. Though I already presumed you to have an excellent taste in fiction, the scene where he makes love to her on the kitchen table was truly riveting, if I do say so myself." He teased, idly drawing squiggly little lines up your spine.

"I'm never living this one down, am I?" You asked with your face buried in palms, though you already suspected what the answer would be.

"Not as long as I'm around, sweetheart." He confirmed placing a firm kiss to the bony prominence in the back of your neck. "I love you, so, so very much." He confessed into your shoulder, the sincerity in his voice stealing the air from your lungs once again.

Just as you were about to echo the endearment, you eye caught on a colourful flash of something in your shared room across the hall. Raising your head up to squint in the mysterious object's direction, you quickly realized it was the dress you'd pulled out to wear tonight. To Morena's birthday dinner. With Gale. Tonight.

You whipped your head around to look at the clock on the wall, panic quickly setting in.

5:47.

Oh, this was about to be disastrous.

"Gale! Your mother!" You exclaimed, pulling away from him abruptly. You felt his spend leak from you slightly as his now flaccid cock exited your pussy, eliciting a pained groan from him.

"What does my mother have to do with this?" He gestured vaguely to your ravaged features, leaking sex and all.

"It's her birthday and she invited us over for supper, remember? We're about to be late!" You picked up the previously discarded blanket on the floor to wrap it around your naked body and scurried into the bedroom, your legs still a little weak and wobbly.

"Surely she won't mind if we're a little tardy, dear." He protested from the couch, lying back into the cushions.

It took you giving him a stern look and trotting back to physically drag him off the couch to get him to acquiesce to your warning. Just as you were about to turn back to getting yourself ready, you remembered how your previous conversation had been cut short.

Taking his hand in yours and looking up to meet his gaze, you said, "And you must know I love you, too. Beyond what words could ever describe."

A shy smile spread across his face, his eyes shimmering in the flickering candlelight. Bringing your hand up to his lips, he placed a the softest of kisses to the back of it, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. You clutched the two ends of the blanket wrapped around you together desperately, as if it was your last piece of sanity rather than the only thing keeping you - against your better judgement - from climbing him like a tree right then and there.

"Of course I do, my love. But I enjoy hearing you tell me all the same." Time seemed to slow as you stood there together, the sight of his naked body before you making it difficult to think straight.

"C'mon, you tease. We've got..." You glanced at the clock again, your tone taking on a more playful edge, "...under 10 minutes to get out the door and you don't even have any clothes on."

"Maybe I would," he countered with a laugh, "if you hadn't stripped them off of me so eagerly."

"Don't act like you didn't do it to me first!" You laughed back, swatting at his chest and heading to the bathroom this time, waiting until the physical distance between you forced you to let go of his hand.

"I'm going for a shower," You announced as you walked away, looking over your shoulder at him when he remained suspiciously quiet. Sure enough, a smug grin had taken form on his face, and you knew what was going on in that pretty head of his almost immediately. "That wasn't an invitation, wizard!

Under the guise that you were too short on time, he had decided to treat your declaration as an invitation anyway, despite your initial protests. It was certainly a struggle cleaning the smell of sex off you in a few short minutes whilst also trying to keep his ever-wandering hands off you, but you'd managed just fine in the end.

The next few minutes passed in a flurry of frenzied last-minute preparations. Gale used a spell to instantly dry your hair to perfection, casting the same one on himself shortly after. You quickly rolled a pair of pantyhose up your legs before shimming into your new dress as he slotted a belt through the loopholes in his pants, his hair adorably ruffled.

To commemorate Morena's 65th birthday, you'd decided (with some reluctance) to splurge on a new dress for the occasion. It wasn't until you went dress shopping one afternoon a few weeks prior, however, that you realized how difficult it was to find a nice one that didn't cost you a whole month's wage. After an entire day of scouring what seemed like every store in Waterdeep to no avail, you'd nearly given up all hope of finding one.

That was, until you bumped into a familiar looking pale elf on the street after dusk.

He had greeted you with his signature, "Darling!" immediately after recognizing you, pulling you in for a friendly hug.

"What are you doing, roaming the streets at such an hour? That foolish wizard of yours hasn't lost his touch already, has he?" He asked, ever the gossip as he linked your arms together and near dragged you up the road with him with his ridiculous amount of enthusiasm.

"It's nice to see you too, Astarion," you laughed, jogging a little to keep up with him. "I was out looking for a dress. Gale's mother's birthday is in a few weeks' time, and I have absolutely nothing to wear."

"Oh dear. That is quite the problem indeed." He replied, a grave look on his face. "Though, one I might be obliged to help you with, if you so wish."

You surveyed his face for any signs of mockery but quickly came up short. "In exchange for..."

He placed a hand to his chest, a gasping dramatically in mock offense. "I am hurt that you think so lowly of me, darling. What do you take me as? Some deceitful, thieving rogue?"

You laughed again, glad to be reunited with the deceitful, thieving rogue once more. "I am not letting you suck on my neck in exchange for making me a dress, Asty. Those days are long since over."

He stuck out his bottom lip at you, pouting. "Not even a nibble? I can suck on your wrist instead, if that's the problem." He asked innocently and you had to swat him away playfully when he tried to take hold of your wrist.

"I will pay you in gold, just as in any other regular trade agreement. Do we have a deal?" You stopped to look at him straight on, letting him know you were serious about this.

He pretended to ponder your offer for a moment before coming to a conclusion. "100 gold, you keep me company for an afternoon back in Baldur's Gate and the most magnificent dress you have ever laid your pretty eyes upon will be delivered to you in no more than 10 days time." He reasoned with an air of finality. When you raised your eyebrows at him expectantly, he added, "And the wizard can come, too, I suppose. I quite miss his terrible jokes, if I'm being honest." He reached his hand out for you to shake. "Deal?"

Smiling, you gave his hand a firm shake. "Deal." You had been meaning to visit him more often anyway, so you were quite satisfied with his added condition to the deal.

He smiled back at you, pleased. "Wonderful. Let's get you measured up."

After a good hour of wrapping a measuring tape around you in about a hundred different angles and coming up with a general design, you'd invited him to spend the night with you and Gale rather than pay for a room at the inn, an offer he agreed to readily. The two of you scurried arm in arm toward yours and Gale's abode, giggling your way through the now dark and winding streets, excited to see your what your lover's reaction might be when you walked through the door with a dear friend to both of you.

Apparently, Astarion had been in Waterdeep at the time to sort out some kind of business deal he had made with a local bard who hadn't kept up his end of the bargain. He only flashed you both a wicked grin when Gale had asked how he intended to handle the dispute before quickly changing the subject, causing you to chuckle softly into your glass of wine. That poor bard, you thought, though you supposed he had it coming if he was so dense as to cheat Astarion of all people over.

He was gone before either of you awoke the next morning, a note with the address to his place in Baldur's Gate scrawled on it in neat cursive and placed inside a beautiful vase of wildflowers on your kitchen table. Within the following week, a skillfully decorated box was delivered to your door from Baldur's Gate, a beautiful dress made just for you tucked inside.

The colour of it was a dark enough purple to almost be considered black, sleek and formed to hug your every curve perfectly. The length of it trailed down to brush no lower than your ankles, the material fanning out past your knees in a little skirt that allowed you to move your legs easier in it. He had added two-tiered layers of frilly hemming around the bottom of the skirt, the material a pearly, ivory white that shimmered ever so slightly in the light. He'd chosen simple heart-shaped neckline for the dress, using that same pearly material to create thin straps on either side for support, little white bows tied to where they met with the dress on either side. As you observed the way you looked with it on in the mirror, you were certain you wouldn't find a more perfect dress in all of the Sword Coast.

Gale came over to you just as you were putting in your finest pair of heart-shaped silver earrings, your dress still unzipped in the back due to the impossible range of motion you'd have to possess to do it up yourself. He was already dressed up in a sharp looking suit you'd picked out with him a while back in Baldur's Gate, the purple of his suit jacket a similar shade of purple to your dress. Delicate-looking flowers embroidered in silver crawled up artfully alongside the silver clasps holding the jacket closed on each side, the pattern stopping at his shoulders where a sweeping cape was clasped into place. His pants were made of a smug-fitting, leathery material to match his high-collared undershirt, the few silver rings he adorned on each hand glinting slightly in the firelight. What you loved most of all about his outfit, however, was the charm that hung from his right ear: a simple sliver sword pointed downward with a heart driven through it. You'd gotten it for him a few weeks after you'd come home from your adventure, the earing he wore in honour of Mystra long since been discarded along the road to Baldur's Gate and immediately swapped for the new one.

His hair seemed to be the only thing he had left to get ready, and you chuckled when he approached you with this comb and a hair tie. You both knew he was perfectly capable of doing it on his own, though he was thoroughly convinced it always looked better when you did it. Turning around and crouching down a little for you, you swept the top portion of his smooth hair up and back toward the back of his head, the strands of gray usually well-hidden by its rich brown colour now well apparent to you in the firelight. The sight of them only made you love him that much more, a gentle reminder of how very human he was.

Tying off the loose bun, you fixed any fly-aways and adjusted its position to perfection, proud of your quick handiwork.

"Zip me?" You asked him, turning around yourself as he turned back to face you.

He was more than happy to oblige, his finger gliding the zipper up your back at a much slower speed than necessary. When he reached the top, he leaned down to give your bare shoulder a quick kiss before whispering in your ear.

"Wait here." Was all he said to you before walking over to his bedside table and pulling a small box out of the drawer. As confused as you were in that moment, you obeyed his gentle order, only stealing a quick peek over your shoulder to satiate your curiosity.

All you heard was the soft sound of him removing the box lid before his hands came around your head to drape something around your neck and close the clasp at the back with a barely perceptible clink, the little cold piece of metal resting an inch or so below the jugular notch between your clavicles. You held it between your fingers and looked down to find a singular sliver charm identical to the one hanging from his ear threaded through a delicate silver chain. The gesture made you start to tear up, turning back around to face him.

"I wanted to wait to give it to you until your birthday, but you look so beautiful in that dress that I-" You cut off any remaining words in that sentence with a passionate kiss landing directly onto his unsuspecting lips, standing up on your toes and cradling both side of his face with your hands. He quickly deepened the kiss, his hands gripping your waist and gently pulling you into him.

"Do you like it?" He asked when you both came up for air, his magnificent brown eyes searching yours for anything that might answer his question. You thought it was probably the stupidest question that you had ever heard come out of his mouth. You were still too tearful to tease him about it, so instead you indulged him.

"I love it, Gale. Just as I love you." You punctuated your sentiments with another soft, languid kiss to his lips. Pulling back after a few moments, you were reminded of a line you particularly adored from the novel you were reading together earlier. "All my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever.” You quoted to him, each word flowing from your lips with unwavering confidence.

He leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes glassy and brimming with tears. "And every piece of my heart is yours, along with my soul, my body, and whatever else you'll have of me. It's yours, and it was always going to be yours, in the end."

You brushed a lock of hair from his eyes and took one of his hands in your other, stroking the back of it with your thumb reassuringly. "I think it's time to go, love." You reminded him gently.

He nodded, picking up the gift basket you'd made together for his mother. He looked to you again, his gaze soft.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Always," you answered, giving his hand a little squeeze. Your gaze remained unwaveringly focused on him, wanting to absorb this wholesome moment you'd shared as best as you possibly could, locking it away in your mind for safe keeping.

If fate had been so generous to grant you this soft epilogue, then by the gods you were going to make sure every minute that brought you closer to the end was spent to its fullest, your lover's hand in yours.

~★~

Thank you for reading!

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