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loviatarsluv · 2 months

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Would That I (3)

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

(takes place in an AU where the absolute and the cult basically don't exist so this is non-canon compliant, I guess)

rating: slightly mature (no spice just yet)

content includes: yearning and pining (still), teacher gale, tara being the best wingman (heh) in waterdeep, fluff

in summary: things are still a little tense the morning after the almost kiss, and both gale and elara are miserable (but still somehow cannot communicate properly for the life of themselves) until an unexpected magic lesson brings them together and makes them have a much needed discussion

a/n: ugh I wanted to make this a slow slow slow burn but I just can’t help it I need to write sweet wizard smut STAT so here we flippin go gamers it has begun

word count: 7k

Wordless meals and silent mornings were not a novel concept.

She’d endured many in her years living with her uncle, who was not exactly a morning person by any means, whilst she typically was the opposite.

She was an early riser, always had been. She loved waking up with just enough time to greet the sun as it peeked over the horizon. She loved being able to sit outside and admire the way it painted the sky in gorgeous pastel hues as if it were an offering or a gift to those who woke early enough to see it. She loved the purity of the calm and quiet of the breeze off of the ocean and the songs of the birds before the rest of the world had begun to stir for the day, before the sounds of the bustle of the city could drown them out.

The first month or so living here in Waterdeep, mornings were mostly like this, as they hadn’t really gotten to know each other well enough for any substantial conversation or even most small talk. It wasn’t quite so agonizing then, though, as it is now. It was a gentle awkwardness then, both of them wanting to initiate conversation but not really knowing how to. This— this was much worse.

She woke to the smell of breakfast already cooking and the faint sounds of pots and pans clattering. That was her first warning sign.

She almost always woke before Gale on any given day. She would normally be lounging by her favorite tree or reclining on the sofa in the main area reading by the time he stumbled into the kitchen, eyes still full of sleep and voice still gruff.

She debated just locking herself in this room and hiding away until uncle Alastor returned— as impractical as it was of an idea, its appeal only increased as her morning dragged on.

She took her time dressing for the day, hoping maybe Gale would finish his breakfast before she made it downstairs and move on with his day. That, of course, was a fruitless thought.

Even with tensions as high as they were, he still waited for her, busying himself by burying his nose within a tome about Abjuration as he absently pushed around his food with his fork.

He was still in his night clothes— his loose white linen shirt very loosely laced and showcasing the dark hair on his chest, his deep indigo comfort robe very lazily thrown over his shoulders, and she assumed he was wearing his matching linen pants as well but couldn’t see past the table. His glasses were perched in the spot they almost always were whenever he read— right on the tip of his nose— as his brows furrowed in concentration while his dark eyes skimmed over the pages. His hair was mostly tied back, only a few loose strands falling around his shoulders and face.

The universe was mocking her, she was sure of it.

He was being dangled in front of her, like a carrot being dangled on a string before a rabbit to encourage it to run. And oh, hells, did she want to run right into his arms— if only they had been open for her to run into.

“Good morning,” He says, never looking up from the pages of his book as he greets her, his voice warm but not entirely eager. Not the way it had been nearly every morning prior.

“Morning,” she says meekly, her voice still rough from slumber. She sits without another word, staring down at her plate.

She knows that he won’t eat unless she does, he always waited for her to eat before he took a bite. But she could not muster the appetite to even be interested in what looked to be an otherwise delicious breakfast. She sighs, grabbing her fork and prodding at one of the eggs on her plate.

His eyebrow quirks as he glances up at her, noticing her poking at her food when normally she’d have been wolfing it down by now. He clears his throat. “Not hungry?”

She meets his gaze with trepidation, hoping she isn’t offending him even further than she already had the night prior. She sits back in her seat, leaning her head against the backing of it and directing her face toward the ceiling. “Not particularly.” She admits.

He nods, then takes a small bite of his own food. “I can save it for you, for when you are. If you’d like.”

She offers him a weak but thankful smile. “I’d appreciate that.”

Not another word was exchanged between them for the rest of the time that they both remained downstairs, until eventually Gale stood and grabbed both of their plates and began to wash up, barely acknowledging her as he reached over her to reach her plate.

Agonizing may have been putting it lightly. She was in utter misery.

She wanted to ask him if there was a time traveling spell that he could teach her, but decided maybe that wasn’t the best idea considering he was very clearly a large reason for her wanting to learn the spell to begin with.

She stays frozen in her seat for what felt like an eternity, unsure whether she wanted to break the silence or not. She took far too long to decide, because after a while, Gale emerged from the kitchen once again and breezed past her, heading straight for the stairs. She doesn’t dare turn to look, but she hears him pause on the first step for a moment before continuing to ascend the steps and retreat into his office for the day.

“Fucking hells,” she curses under her breath, her head falling into her hands as she releases an exasperated huff. Her shoulders began to ache from how tense she’d held them for the entire morning so far, but her muscles had no intent on relaxing any time soon.

“Language, Miss Heartspell,” Tara chides as she glides down onto the table from somewhere behind her. She jumps slightly, the sudden presence unexpected.

She sighs, placing a hand over her heart. “Tara. You scared the hells out of me,” she tries to steady her breathing. “I’m sorry.”

“What ails you this morning, friend? You look like you barely slept a wink.” The tressym observes, her large green eyes boring into her as she eyes her curiously and with slight concern.

Your wizard and his big dumb brown eyes and his stupidly beautiful hair and that godsdamned shirt—

“Just tired. Couldn’t sleep well last night.”

That was putting it very simply. She had barely slept more than a handful of hours, not nearly enough to be well rested enough to function through the day. She felt terrible, and it seemed that she looked the part as well, according to her small feathered friend.

“Would this have anything to do with Mr. Dekarios and his admittedly awful attitude?” she grunts, rolling her eyes and baring her teeth slightly. “He’s been incorrigible since yesterday evening.”

How to politely tell a grumpy tressym that you may or may not be the cause of her wizard’s ire— step one: don’t.

“Has he? I hadn’t noticed,” she remarks nonchalantly, the tiniest hint of sarcasm in her tone. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Tara scoffs, stretching her tiny body as far as she can and yawning, digging her claws into the placemat where Gale’s plate had been a few minutes prior. “Maybe he’s finally realized he needs to shave that wretched thing on his chin.”

She lets out a chuckle— though she rather loved his facial hair, for numerous reasons— she found Tara’s hatred for it endlessly amusing. She was constantly pestering him to shave or at the very least trim it, and likely he ignored her just to spite her. Their bond reminded her of a doting mother and her slightly rebellious but very respectful son. She’d raised him right. Her, and Morena, of course.

She hadn’t met his mother yet, only heard stories and small little details about her that he’d share. She seemed lovely, just based on what her son told her. Plus, any woman who could raise a man like Gale Dekarios had to be something special.

She wonders how many lovers he’d taken to meet her, if any had ever made it far enough for him to deem it appropriate to introduce them— she wonders what his criteria for such a thing would be.

“Tara? Can I ask you a question?” She asks, biting down on her lip nervously.

Tara stares back at her expectantly, awaiting her questioning.

“It’s a strange question… just— please, keep this between us, okay?” She begins, placing her elbow on the table and resting her cheek against her hand. “Has… has Gale ever been… married?”

Tara has to hold back a cackle, stopping herself before her amusement takes hold. “Oh, darling, no. Mr. Dekarios has had few friends, we’ll call them. Can hardly get the man’s nose out of his books, doesn’t typically fare well for his social life, much less his romantic life.”

She blinks rapidly in surprise, her eyes widening. It made sense, and no sense at all in the same vein. It seemed so strange, just considering who Gale was and the gentlemanly nature of him that he hadn’t had any long term loves. She would’ve imagined him to either have had several failed loves or only one very long term one— more likely the latter, she thought.

She nods. “Makes sense.” A lie.

Tara eyes her suspiciously, carefully strolling across the table to her. “Miss Heartspell, might I be so bold for just a moment, to ask you what that ninny upstairs seems to be too frightened to?”

She cocks an eyebrow up at her, sitting up straight in her chair. “What might that be?”

“Are you spoken for? Have you got someone waiting for you back in Rivington?” She asks, sitting perfectly prim and proper in front of her, her peridot irises catching her crystal blue ones in an intense gaze.

She pauses for a minute, the question having caught her more than off guard. “N-No, I don’t. I don’t exactly have the most successful social life, either.”

Tara’s eyes gleamed, seeming all too pleased and Elara could tell that if she could, she’d undoubtedly have a knowing smirk on her face.

“Hm. Fascinating.” Is all she says before prepping her wings to take flight, flapping them and stretching them gently. Before she can give any sort of response, Tara departs from the conversation and soars out of the open window, surely off to terrorize all the local gulls and pigeons. The mail couriers must wish to stuff her or turn her into stew at this point.

These two and the way they end conversations. Ugh.

Which reminds her— once again, ugh.

Last night could not have ended worse, aside from possibly being told to pack her belongings and leave— though she doubts that Gale would ever do that without warning.

She wanted to talk to Gale about everything— well, maybe not everything— but she had never really talked to anybody about her parents or what happened to them. Not even Alastor. It was a forbidden subject in that household as far as she was concerned. Too many emotions to sort through to pile onto someone else. Plus, she didn’t want to be treated differently, or viewed through different eyes that pitied her. It happened so many years ago, but the occasional nightmares made her feel as though it happened only the night prior.

Perhaps it would be nice— to talk to someone. Gale was easy to talk to. He listened so intently and he was always engaged, even if it were the most uninteresting conversation in the world. Perhaps that was why he was so well learned— he was an excellent listener.

It couldn’t hurt to try.

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The door to his study seemed so much more imposing when you were on the other side of it, with your knuckles primed to meet the sturdy wood and plead for entry.

He almost never shut his office door.

Perhaps now isn’t a good time.

She sighs quietly, her chin falling to rest on her chest and her gaze at the spot on the floor between her feet, defeated.

Perhaps another time.

She turns to head down the hall toward her bedroom, just as she hears the creaking of the office door behind her, opening.

She shifts slightly, peering over her shoulder and expecting to find a certain pair of brown eyes watching her as she creeps through the hall— only to find nothing. The door was slightly ajar, but no sight of the wizard within.

Curious, she takes a few cautious steps forward, careful to move quietly and mindfully. She stops just before she could peek in to see whether Gale was at his desk or not, using the door to shield herself from view— then she hears the sound of a strange whooshing from right on the other side of the door, to the opposite side of the room, likely where Gale sat. She raises her eyebrow, confusion written all over her face as she finally peeks in the room.

Gale is at his desk, where she half expected him to be, leaning against the back of his chair, his feet propped on a small stool next to him and a scroll in hand.

Normal.

Her eyes scan a little further to search for the source of the strange noise, finding nothing— until she hears it again, just before an icy blue flash of light soars across her vision in the shape of a disembodied hand.

A mage hand. She’d seen her uncle conjure one once before— only because he thought she wasn’t around and couldn’t see.

The spectral hand flew to the top of one of the large bookcases on the far end of the room, swiftly retrieving a book and bringing it back down and placing it on Gale’s desk. He sighs, running a hand down his face, then scratching against his beard as he places the scroll next to the newly acquired book.

She cranes her neck a little further, trying to watch as he commands the mage hand around, then loses her balance just enough to send her falling forward and into the room, crash landing into her hands and knees.

Gale jumps at the sound of her colliding with the ground, standing and leaning over his desk, worry in his eyes as he peers down at her.

“By Mystra’s mantle, are you alright?”

She sits up and rubs her hands sheepishly, the heels of them aching from the force of her contact with the hard wooden floor. “Sorry, I just— I was passing by, and I saw— I just… got curious. I apologize.”

Gale’s brows furrow as he looks around, searching for what was out of the ordinary that she was referring to. He disregards it for a moment as he rounds the side of his desk, briskly walking across the room to her side and offering her a hand up.

She looks up at him for a moment before accepting his offer, slipping her hand into his. He braces her with his other hand on her elbow and pulls her to her feet, holding her steady while she gets her bearings.

“Why don’t you always just— use that? Why do you ever have me help when you can just…” she trails off, motioning with her hands what appeared to be a conjuration.

His eyes widen slightly as he realizes what she was referring to, then motions the mage hand to come closer. “This— have you never seen a mage hand before? Has Alastor not conjured one in front of you before?”

She shakes her head. “I caught a glimpse of one once, but it was so fast I couldn’t tell what it was. My uncle rarely did magic around me, mostly just small spells here and there. I, myself, only know a few simple spells that I taught myself. Granted, I'm not very good at it, but they’ve come in handy at times.”

Gale hears Alastor in his head from the night he invited him over for that fateful dinner: perhaps Mr. Dekarios could pick up on your old man’s slack and actually teach you some damn magic.

“What a strange one, that old man is. Cryptic as ever. I’m not sure why I was under the impression that any of this was old news to you.” He says, motioning to the crystalline digits beside him, motioning for it to wiggle its fingers.

She shrugs, her eyes locked on the spell with a certain childlike wonder in her eyes that Gale couldn’t help but find most endearing. It reminded him of being young and awed by his own conjurations and manipulations of the weave and those of his professors at Blackstaff.

“Would you like to learn?” He asks her, snapping her from her daze and her eyes flying to his in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” Her voice is quiet, as if he’d just asked her the most scandalous of questions.

She had long abandoned the hope of learning even just the basics of wizardry, seeing as neither Gale, nor even Alastor in his letters, had ever mentioned it since the night they discussed this arrangement. She never asked, because the last thing she wanted to be was a bother to the man who so kindly took her in without a second thought. She never abandoned her desire to learn all together, though. That still lingered.

“I don’t see why not,” he drawls, stepping backward a few steps to allow her space to enter the room further. “Perhaps it’ll be helpful for us both. Besides, it’s been quite some time since I’ve had a willing and able pupil to impart my vast knowledge on.”

I could kiss you right now!

A grin paints itself across her face so wide that she fears it may crack, her eyes lit up and her hands clasped together in excitement. She realizes and quickly adjusts her behavior from juvenile enthusiasm to calm and collected curiosity, though she couldn’t entirely contain the smile on her face.

“I’d love to.” Was the tame iteration of what she wanted to say. Given the state of their relationship being somewhat cloudy and confusing at the moment, she rather not push her luck. This was an excellent excuse to get him to talk to her to make up for the painfully silent morning they shared just hours prior.

Not to mention, it gave her more untainted time with him before she decided to share with him her tales of woe of life as an orphan and being decidedly unpopular within her community back in Rivington. She was more than thankful for the distraction and redirection.

“Excellent!” He claps his hands together, a pleased smirk on his lips as he takes his glasses off and allows them to fall against his chest, hanging by the dainty golden chain attached to them that hung around his neck. “This one is a fairly easy spell to learn. I learned to conjure my first mage hand at the ripe age of seven. Drove my dear mother up the wall when she’d ask me to do my chores only to catch me lounging with my nose in a book while this fellow did all the heavy lifting.”

She chuckles, picturing a younger Gale getting into all sorts of mischief and being too smart for his own good and his poor mother trying desperately to keep up with him. She imagines that he has her eyes and her smile, despite never seeing her with her own eyes. It was just a feeling.

He motions for her to come closer, pointing to the spot just beside him for her to stand. She obliges, standing right where he’d indicated, turning to face the direction he was facing.

“You said that you know a few simple spells, yes?”

She nods.

“Excellent. Would you be able to demonstrate something for me?”

She looks at him with uncertainty for a pause, prompting him to nod and encourage her to try something simple, the look on his face purely that of a warm encouragement and devoid of all judgment.

Despite this, she still feels the swell of embarrassment before she even attempts the bare minimum spell that she knew— knowing that her talents were meager in comparison to his. She swallows hard and tries to steady herself, attempting to focus so the spell doesn’t go awry.

She moves her hands in a flourish that took much more effort than anything she’d ever seen Gale do, only to conjure a small flash of purple weave, sparks scintillating at her fingertips as the spell leaves her palm and quickly dissipates into the air. She frowns deeply, averting her gaze back to the ground between her feet.

“Please don’t laugh at me.” She groans, heaving a sigh as her cheeks and neck heat and tinge a bright pink.

“Hey,” he coos, crossing the space between them and tapping her chin with his fingertips to urge her face upward to meet his gaze. “I’ve seen novices do much worse than that even after an entire fortnight of study— nobody got hurt, in this case, which is fantastic. Once, during my time at Blackstaff, one of my classmates set the entire room ablaze while practicing simple incantations. I had to be the one to put it out as I was the only one that already knew how to conjure water.”

She tries in vain to bite back the smile threatening the corners of her lips, and allows a chuckle to pass through her as her eyes meet his. He brushes against her chin with his thumb a couple passes before pulling away. She’s still getting used to Gale’s sudden physicality— not that she would complain. Not even slightly.

Especially after the events of the evening prior, as she half expected him to be withdrawn entirely. She hoped he took note of the way she leaned ever so slightly into his touch. The way she savored it.

“I picture you as the perfect pupil to any professor. So bookish and attentive. You’re a scholar’s wet dream.” She jokes, poking his chest with featherlight jabs. He coughs at her crude remark, his eyes widening and his chest heaving as he attempts to regain composure. She’s full blown cackling now, causing his chuckles to join hers in harmony of the melodic sounds surging between them.

“Perhaps you should borrow a page from my book, then,” he jests as he gives her a lighthearted warning grimace, his earthly eyes glinting golden in the candlelight. “We’ve only just begun our lessons and you’ve already sassed your tutor.”

“My mistake, Professor Dekarios. I solemnly swear it won’t happen again,” she pauses, a devious smirk on her lips at the name that causes his face to flush at the sound of it. “Probably.”

He feels something stir within him at the sound of that name falling from her lips that he refuses to recognize, if only to spare himself from the embarrassment of having to explain his body’s impulse reaction to it. He clears his throat, and straightens himself.

“Alright, alright,” he huffs, leisurely beginning to roll his sleeves further up onto his forearms. “Focus is a key ingredient to this equation, which is clearly something we are lacking.”

She tries to tame the spark of mischief in her belly, deciding maybe it was best to be a better suited pupil to such esteemed talents as that of Gale of Waterdeep and hold off on any hijinks for the time being, despite how much she reveled in the sound of his laughter, so warm and genuine and real that it felt like being curled up within a thick wool blanket near a fire in the dead of winter.

It was a much welcome deviation from the despair he held in his graceful but strong features in the dim moonlight streaming through the window of her bedroom the night before.

Though, she couldn’t resist one last little quip just to get a rise out of him.

“Apologies. Continue, Professor.” She feigns innocence in her light eyes, rounding them and clasping her hands behind her back.

His face is unreadable, and she almost wonders if she actually managed to upset him with her playful remarks. Only when she notices him allow his tongue to dart out and wet his bottom lip does she consider something else— something that makes her blood feel like molten lava as it surges through her veins.

He clears his throat once again, suddenly feeling as though the room had risen several degrees in temperature, tiny beads of sweat forming on his back and neck.

“It’s a fairly simple spell, once you get the hang of it, it’ll be as simple as a flick of the wrist,” he explains, moving to stand beside her and demonstrate the spell. “I’ll show you.”

He steadies his posture, though the way in which he follows through with the spell seems effortless— as if he could’ve done it while in deep slumber. He whispers the cantrip softly, the Latin words dancing off of his expert tongue in a way that sends a shiver through her.

Focus, Elara.

A near impossible task when in his presence.

The spectral limb hovers before them, the air around it chilly and crackling with pure weave. She steps closer to it, in awe of the strange being. Could she even call it a being?

Gale smirks triumphantly, then commands the hand to float in a circle around her, her curious eyes following it as it flies past her vision. He halts its movements just in front of her, the palm facing her as an invitation. She lifts her hand tentatively, raising it until her palm is level with the nearly translucent one, her fingertips brushing those of the spell.

A chill flows through her as her skin makes contact with the specter, her hand jolting backwards at the sensation, only to return for further investigation. It was strange— something so impermanent and ethereal, yet, if it had been warmer, it would have felt like a real corporeal hand. She wondered if Gale could feel anything through the conjuration— if it worked as an extension of his own hand.

Curious.

“Would you like to try?” He asks, breaking her from her thoughts as her eyes snap back to his.

She nods, her gaze flitting back and forth between the wizard and the airborne hand before him. He dismisses it, the spell emitting an airy whoosh as it dissipates.

“Now, do as I do as closely as you can, and say ‘veni et iuva me’,” He instructs as he moves to stand just beside her, their shoulders mere inches apart. “Ready?”

With an affirmative nod, she watches him as he expertly demonstrates the spell, the weave appearing around his hands and fingertips in a violet crackling mist, as she’d seen it do before— it made sense why purple was his favorite color, now. It suited him.

In a flash, another hand appears, just as the one before. Crystalline and nearly translucent. He gives her an encouraging look, his smile easy and eager as he awaits her attempt at the spell.

She bites down on her bottom lip, then steadies her body and attempts to mimic Gale’s exact movements, then recites the incantation— and much to her surprise, another hand appears before them, glowing blue and bright.

Excitement fills her to the brim and she feels as though she might explode from pure childhood fulfillment induced delight. She looks at Gale with a giddy grin, giggling with sheer glee.

“I did it! I actually did it!” She cheers, still attempting to concentrate on the spell so it doesn’t dissolve.

Gale claps his hands together excitedly, beaming at her with pride. “Excellent! Now, think of exactly what you want it to do, where you want it to go, how you want it to move. Stay focused. You’ve got this.”

She feels a blush creep to her cheeks under his watchful eyes and his encouragement, but maintains her focus on the spell as she motions for it to move forward, toward one of the bookcases. She imagines the book she wants and knows exactly where it is— it was the thirteenth book from the right on the third shelf from the top. The hand effortlessly retrieves the book, then returns to her, presenting the book to her just as she’d seen it do for Gale.

She turns to Gale, tears brimming her eyes from pure joy and amazement at her own ability to pull off the spell. It was a simple spell, they both knew that, but for her this was the greatest accomplishment she’d ever achieved thus far, outside of the small spells she’d taught herself over the years.

Gale smiles at her warmly, his hands clasped behind his back. “Well done, Elara. You did wonderfully, especially as a novice. I’m quite impressed.”

She tries to contain the grin threatening to turn the corners of her lips, pressing them tightly together, but unable to mask the pure elation in her eyes, tears still pooling in her vision.

Before she can stop herself, she throws herself at the wizard, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly, burying her face into his chest. He grunts at the sudden contact, his body freezing in complete shock and his heart racing a million a second. After a moment of panic, he allows his hands to settle on her back, pulling her close to him and resting his chin on the top of her head.

Lavender. Gods, he adores the smell of lavender.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She whispers into the soft fabric of his shirt, her voice muffled as she presses herself further into him.

She pulls back slightly after a moment to look up at him, her still teary eyes meeting his, and he gives her a warm but reserved smile. Her eyes soften, her brows scrunching with concern. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, feigning ignorance. “Nothing at all. I’m— ah— I’m very happy to teach you more, if you’d like.”

She observes him for a moment, noting that something was on his mind that he wasn’t expressing. She frowns. “Gale?”

He sighs, pulling away from her completely and turning away, his hand running over his face in distress. The large study falls into a heavy silence for a few moments before he walks toward the large window where she often perched herself as he worked. He allows his hand to trail the spot where he has found her dozens of times before, gazing out at the seaside, the wind rustling her raven tresses like a tidal wave.

“Forgive me, I’m just feeling a bit under the weather today.” He resigns, rubbing his eyes with his finger and his thumb and then running a shaky hand through his hair.

She swears with how silent the room was, you'd have been able to hear her heart thumping away in her chest as if it were a war drum.

Here it goes.

“Is this… about last night?” Her voice is meek and timid when she asks, catching her bottom lip between her teeth nervously.

Gale keeps his back to her, and she can see the muscles in his shoulders and back tense at her query, as if he was bracing for a blow at any second.

“I… it’s nothing, Elara. I’m quite alright.” His voice is curt but still holds the ardor toward her that it always did when he spoke to her— he was warm to everyone he met, but there was a specific tone he used when he spoke to her. She had only begun to notice it in the last few days, and she feared the day that it went away.

“Gale,” She pleads, stepping forward and placing a hand on his arm. He tenses further under her delicate hand. “I’m so sorry. I owe you an explanation. I should’ve never—”

He spins to face her briskly, his expression hard, betraying the way his dark eyes twinkled as he looked at her. “You don’t owe me anything, Elara. I should have never crossed any of the lines that I’ve crossed, and my behavior is inexcusable. Deplorable. You needn’t apologize for a thing.”

Her hand still lingers on him, now having moved to his chest after he’d shifted to face her. She stares at how small and frail her hand looked against his solid frame. She closes her eyes, honing in on the feeling of his chest against her palm as it rises and falls rapidly with his breathing. She can feel his heartbeat. She wished he could feel hers as well. She wonders if he could hear it like she feared he could.

“Elara…” Broken. Torn. The only words capable of describing the man’s voice as he squirms under her touch, unsure whether to move away or lean into it. What he wanted and what he felt was right to do were at complete odds, as they always seemed to be as of late.

“I never drew any lines, Gale.”

His eyes widened. Had he heard her right? Surely, he was mishearing. Perhaps he should have his ears checked soon. Or perhaps he’d finally started to lose it.

One too many romance tomes.

“What did you—”

“You can’t cross a line that was never drawn to begin with.” She grips at the fabric of his shirt, finally opening her own eyes to find the utter shock in his.

He shakes his head, his mouth opening and closing several times as his mind attempts to formulate a coherent sentence that wouldn’t just come out as complete nonsense.

“Please,” she sighs, her mind at war within itself as she fights to find the right words to convey it all properly. If any even existed. “You must stop making assumptions about the way I feel before I have the chance to sort through them myself.”

He looks visibly shaken, as realization hits him once her words sink in. “Are you saying—”

“I don’t know if I have the right words to explain, right now,” she admits. “What I do know is that I don’t need you to decide how I feel for me. Especially how I feel towards you.”

How I feel for you, she wanted to say.

The hand that had been gripping his shirt slowly begins to fall, but is swiftly caught against the hard planes of his stomach with a strong hand, holding it gently as if it may break and shatter from the slightest touch but firm so as to keep it there, at all costs.

His eyes bore into hers, the intensity in them something that shook her to her core. She had to look away.

“Elara,” he breathes, the sound equal parts desperate and hopeful. He adjusts her hand so that it’s flat against his stomach, and drags it to the left side of his chest, pressing her palm into it. “Do you feel it?”

The rhythm against her palm is rapid and thunderous, the feel of his chest is solid and strong and she can hardly breathe. She nods, while attempting to remember to take air into her lungs and release it back out, then repeat.

He leans his face down closer to hers, his voice low and husky as he whispers to her, “I hope this tells you everything you need to know.”

Her mouth parts and she sucks in a sharp breath. She feels as though her entire body had become nothing more than a melty mass of human goo under his gaze and his touch and what he’s saying without saying it directly— is this a dream? Was she dreaming?

How did this encounter begin with him scooping her off of the floor after her face planting into it, only to land here, with his heart against her palm and his lips so close, too close once again?

It was like Deja vu— the way their faces drifted closer to each other as if some invisible force were pushing them together, just as they had less than twenty four hours prior. It was familiar and yet so new, an entirely new rush of energy and emotion charging them this time.

She feels one of his hands move to rest against the side of her neck, his fingers tilting her jaw upward as he dives in, his nose brushing hers and their breaths intermingling. Her eyes flutter closed as she prepares for the feeling of his lips against hers, only to feel nothing but his thumb dragging across her bottom lip.

Her eyes shoot open, her brows furrowed in confusion and a hint of frustration. His eyes flit back and forth between hers, searching for something, anything, that would tell him to stop. “Is this what you want?”

A sound akin to a whine or a groan leaves her lips before she can stop it. She chokes on the word yes before she can even utter it, so instead she nods desperately.

Not a second is wasted before lips are entwined and tongues are tangled— one of his hands moves to grip her waist and pull her body against his, the fullness of her chest pressing against his solid one causing him to break the kiss to suck in a sharp breath and moan slightly, the sound low and rumbling in his ribs. She catches the muffled sounds within the kiss, drinking them in and savoring them as if they were the finest wine she’d ever tasted.

It all feels so surreal. He feels surreal. As if maybe she’d never woken up this morning and this was all some incredibly vivid dream that she never hoped to wake from. It would make sense— this wouldn’t be the first time Gale had invaded her dreams and she was certain it wouldn’t be the last either.

The tips of his fingers dig into the plush flesh at her hips, his other hand moving to caress the back of her head and lacing his fingers through the dark tresses at the nape of her neck. Heaven. This is heaven.

She feels him beginning to walk her backward, unaware of the direction until she feels the edge of his large mahogany desk bump into her lower back and she almost hisses in pain, but swallows it before she can. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered past his lips and his body and his heart still steadily beating against her palm.

All too soon, he breaks away from the kiss, his eyes wild with lust but a bit of trepidation that sets her on edge. “What is it?”

Gale’s chest heaves with concerted effort as he looks at her, his hands still at her hips and his body still pressed firmly to hers. He takes in a shaky breath as if it pained him to do so. “I just— gods, I want to do this. More than you can possibly imagine,” he starts, his words coming out in whimpered and hushed tones that set her entire body ablaze, even more so than it already had been.

“But…” she continues for him.

He clasps his eyes shut tight, the little lines between his brows deepening and becoming more prominent. She ignores the urge to smooth them out with her thumb. “I’d like to know more about you as a person before I get to know you as a woman, if that makes sense.”

She’s unable to contain the chuckle that escapes her lips at his gentlemanly attempt at being coy, rather than laying it out in blunt terms as she likely would have. He softens at the sight of her smile, his shoulders relaxing and sagging in relief.

“Are you saying you’d like to court me before taking me to bed?” She asks, amusement in her tone as she playfully pokes his nose which scrunches at her teasing.

He catches her wrist in his hand and places a kiss to the soft skin at the heel of her palm. “Ideally, if it’s amenable to you.”

That would be putting it incredibly mildly.

She studies his face— as she’d done a million times before— she’d seen him disheveled from sleep or stress as he studied a particularly convoluted subject, his hair mussed and messy and his lips pressed into a hard line, his eyes weary and half open. She’d thought it strange how even in what would be considered one’s worst state, he looked exquisite and refined, still with that same air of elegance and grace about him that he had at his very best when he was in his robes and confidently discussing a topic that interested him.

But this state of disrepair was something else entirely.

His eyes were heavily lidded but not from exhaustion, the dark umber pools of his irises swimming with desire and need. His lips were visibly swollen as they peeked out from behind the thick bushel of hair that covered his chin and upper lip, still glossy from her as evidence of their kiss. His shirt crumpled and creased where her fingers had gripped the fabric tightly in her fist. He looked completely undone, and it was her that had been his undoing.

Gods, have mercy. It’s a wonder that she hadn’t jumped his bones at the sight alone, she thinks.

“What? Is something wrong?” He asks, his voice breaking her from her reverie and snapping her out of the myriad of filthy thoughts that had been rushing through her lust laden mind.

She shakes her head, partially in response to him and partially in attempts to ground herself. “Nothing else in my life has felt quite as right as it does right now.” She admits.

It was the truth. Not much had felt right in her life up to this point— something always felt off, like there was a missing piece to the puzzle that was her life that had been missing for as long as she could remember.

This was as close to feeling whole as she had ever felt in her life.

Though, there were still two missing pieces. But she had accepted long ago that they would never return. A bitter truth, but a truth nonetheless.

He looks as though she’d just told him the best news he’d ever received, elation writ large upon his face as a wide grin splays across his lips. “Well, in that case,” He pulls her into him, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her just enough to where only her toes were still touching the ground, eliciting a giggle from her that only makes his smile grow wider. “Would you possibly have the time to share a glass of wine and a lovely candlelit dinner with me this evening?”

Her cheeks had begun to ache from smiling at this point, but she couldn’t contain it. Nor did she desire to.

“I think I’d be amenable to that.”

tags: @goddess-bound @mirandpeglell @celestialowlbear 🩷 (thank u guys for ur love I hope u like this chapter!!!!)

this is part three of a series - ✧ (ch 1) ✧ (ch 2)

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shmothman · 11 months

Note

Shit’s hard, I’ve been feeling the same way more intensely lately too. Sending you lots of support, I hope you get the things/people you’re wishing for and that life eases up some soon <3

Ough thank you so much for your kind words 🥺🥺 I’m really okay!! Not to invoke Garfield but. Mondays, Y’know? I’m sending the well wishes right back atcha!!

#sorry for oversharing on tungle dot hell I prommy I’m ok—#thank u 🥺💕💕#immortal-heartspell #sef answers

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loverdotpng · 2 years

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Don't ask me abt the weird position they're in idk either

#Selfship #Self ship #Selfship art #Self ship art #LGBT Selfship #Gay selfship #oc x canon #self insert x canon #self shipping #okay that's enough tags I can't be bothered /lh #I actually drew this last night but I went to bed like. very soon after #my memories of last night are foggy. not sure I even took my melatonin.#so idk why I didn't post this and why I chose to go to bed immediately #JHGFGHJ augh /lh #SI: Heartspell #🫖

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llycaons · 2 years

Text

I actually have no idea what to watch because all my new shows are too stressful or they make me so so mad

#me whose main hobby is watching tv going 'yeah I have nothing to watch' strange but true #just can't think of a single tihng I've ever seen #it's fine ill probably listen to heartspell and like. stretch instead. heartspell is good. they hate the french #cor.txt

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chirp-a-chirp · 2 months

Text

Devour and Delight: Roy’s Wedding and Wedding Night

Fandom: Court of Darkness (Roy X MC, MC named Carla)

Rating: First third PG/Sugary sweet; last 2/3 R/Sweetly Spicy (Minors/folks under 18 do not interact please!). The spicier section is in dialogue format.

Description: Roy and MC get hitched—and clearly enjoy their first honeymoon night. Part One to this story here: LINK HERE

Word Count: ~2700

Tags: Wedding; wedding night; fluff; sweet and spicy; soft smut

…

A private ceremony takes place in a garden near the Invidian royal chapel. A little girl clutching a basket marches down the aisle, the frills of her dress bouncing energetically. Roy smiles indulgently as the girl curtsies to him at the altar.

“You performed admirably, Nica.” He adds. “Your excitement mirrors mine.”

“Yay!” Nica runs to her older brother, Rio, who serves as Roy’s best man. She had practiced her flower girl routine diligently for a week. No one had the heart to tell Nica that, in her excitement, she forgot to drop any of the petals.

“Sorry about that mate,” Rio says quietly to Roy after ushering Nica to her seat.

“There is nothing to apologize for, my friend.” Roy eyes Nica’s overflowing flower basket, grinning. “I have a better use for the petals this evening.”

“What use could that be—“ Rio stops himself. Roy’s gaze is transfixed upon seeing Carla.

King Klaus walks Carla down the aisle. “I thought I’d only get this honor with Sherry,” Klaus murmurs, his voice choking. Carla can’t help but be moved that the King is reacting like a proud parent this day, his emotions clearly etched on his face.

The audience witnessing this wedding is small—some palace staff, Rio, Lynt and their immediate families, Sherry, Grayson, and Roy’s parents. The Invidian people and other foreign princes will be present for the public ceremony—and all the royal trappings along with it—in a week’s time. But this day is for Roy and Carla.

Carla can hardly contain her emotions as she grasps Roy’s hand.

“No escaping now,” Carla whispers jokingly, her eyes drinking the sight of him in his suit.

“Escape was never an option for us, Heartspell.”

King Klaus makes a gracious escape and sits next to his wife and daughter Sherry. He’s all but sure from Roy’s lovestruck stare that his son did not remotely register his presence.

“Roy’s brimming with passion. It just took the right woman to unlock it.” Roy’s mother notes fondly to King Klaus.

“If he can keep it unlocked until the ceremony ends!” Sherry giggles.

The officiant intones some very poignant and meaningful words—of which Roy would confess later to not recalling much of at all. He does recall every word of his and Carla’s personal wedding vows. When that time arrives, Carla turns and places a gold ring with an etched rose motif on his finger.

“The world is comprised of darkness and light. For years, I struggled in the dark, seeking a life worth living. But then, you arrived. Thank you for being my light—my source of inspiration and joy. I vow to spend every day giving you the same love and happiness you’ve gifted me. To ease the burdens you carry. To lift your spirits in times of sorrow and doubt.”

A beautiful smile forms on Roy’s face from Carla’s words. He places a diamond ring on her finger before clasping her hands.

“The world may be comprised of light and dark, but you brought color into my life. I love you with all that I am. My soul has transformed from knowing you—your goodness, your kindness, your perseverance. I vow to cherish you for eternity, to be the one you can turn to when you require. To comfort, soothe, and protect in times of need.”

The officiant asks if there are any objections. Carla withholds a giggle when Roy scans the crowd and briefly narrows his eyes as if anyone would object. Her thumb caresses his wrist to soothe his nerves.

The officiant pronounces them man and wife. Carla represses the urge to leap in Roy’s arms due to the audience. Roy senses her hesitation and pulls Carla to him in a tender embrace. As their lips touch, Carla whispers on his lips.

“I love you…husband.”

Time stops briefly. Affections overflow as they gaze into each other’s eyes.

“And I love you...wife.”

There’s a joyous celebration at the Castle. The festivities blur in a series of dances, feasting, and good natured ribbing of Roy and Carla being unable to keep their eyes off each other. The moment King Klaus and Queen Charlotte leave, Roy makes his excuses, picks Carla up in his arms, and dashes away.

Carla: Roy! So impatient! Her voice echoes the hallway. What will people say?

Roy: Patience would be rather unusual at present. It is not as if tonight’s plans are a secret. Roy smirks while carrying Carla towards their chambers. Upon feeling her cheeks blaze, his voice lowers. I have the most beautiful wife in my arms. All I desire is to spend time with her.

Carla: Define spend time. Carla nuzzles her nose against his neck as Roy opens their chamber door. I have some ideas…

Roy: Roy chuckles at her coyness. His eyes close briefly at feeling of Carla’s breath against his neck. He steps inside their chambers and locks the door.

Well then, please enlighten me.

Roy puts Carla on the ground. His thumb traces her jawline before lifting her chin towards his gaze. His eyes reflect adoration, love, and rising heat. Carla’s thoughts scatter at his look.

Carla: Roy…She is overwhelmed. A part of her wonders if she closes her eyes if she’ll find this day, nay their entire relationship, nothing more than a dream. She grasps Roy’s free hand. It’s real, solid, radiating warmth. His fingers curl against hers on instinct.

Allow me to burn this beautiful image of you in my mind. Please.

Roy: His eyes widen with surprise—he has been called fair of face by many, but none have mattered before meeting Carla. His expression softens.

Take your time. The corner of his mouth quirks. Please inform me if I pass your inspection.

Carla: She walks a full circle around Roy, eyes roaming up and down from the tips of his shoes to the top of his head. Roy breathes heavier at her examination.

It’s not everyday a girl marries the most handsome prince in Saligia—inside and out. Her voice trails as her arms wrap around Roy’s back.

Roy: He embraces Carla softly, resting his head on top of hers. You understand you've completely melted me, yes?

Carla: You’re standing upright, so not ALL of you has melted. She kicks off her heels and nuzzles against his chest.

Roy: He is determined to make this a night she’ll never forget. One of joy, of gallantry—

Carla: How about we unwrap our…wedding presents? Her fingers untuck shirttails from Roy’s pants so she can caress his sides.

Roy: …gallantry be damned.

Carla: Her hands wander to Roy’s shoulders as she removes his jacket. Carla hums in approval as Roy’s hands travel up her back and slowly undo her dress.

I REALLY despise buttons. Her hands shake as the top three buttons of Roy’s shirt are undone. There is an innate satisfaction in unveiling one another’s skin with their own hands versus using magic—even if their wedding attire consists of the tiniest most cumbersome buttons in existence. Her lips lap Roy’s chest as more skin is exposed. Carla’s wedding dress falls to the ground in a pool of fabric.

Roy: You are exquisite. Beyond exquisite. Heartspell. I love you.

There are more eloquent ways to express these overflowing emotions. But, those are the words that matter.

Carla: Though they’ve come together many times before, this feels different. Her skin is covered in goosebumps as Roy’s fingers trace her curves. His touch is revenant yet burning. When Carla finally gets Roy’s shirt off, she gasps as she’s lifted in his arms. Her legs wrap around his waist, their kisses quickly becoming ravenous. Roy walks to the bed and lowers Carla down, his lips never leaving hers.

Carla’s hands drift to Roy’s waist to take off what remains of his attire. Despite their passionate sounds, Carla can’t help laughing as Roy kicks his shoes off with serious impatience.

And YOU may hate shoes as much as I hate buttons! Even as she laughs, her lips seek Roy’s body vigorously.

Roy: He half laughs, half growls in impatience. His hands finally remove the few articles of clothing clinging to their bodies.

Believe me, you’re well worth the effort of unraveling, dear wife. Roy groans as their lips devour each other, caressing said and unsaid desires.

Carla: Her fingers dig into his rose gold locks. Oh God Roy…

Roy: He moans at her touch, her body, her heart—it is pure heaven. His hands travel up her thighs, tracing every inch, seeking her heat.

Carla: This…this is a problem. She murmurs softly against his lips and neck. I want this moment to continue, but your fingers…oh, just like THAT.

Carla’s fingers dig into his shoulders as Roy’s fingers concentrate on her most sensitive spot, lightly at first and then encircling intently.

Roy: He laughs softly as she murmurs against him. Roy’s touches become all-consuming, her reactions driving him wild.

Just like this…yes? Roy feigns his questioning tone. He knows Carla loves it.

Carla: Her legs quiver from the sensations of Roy’s fingers in her. Carla feels rather than sees Roy smirk as his head is buried against her neck.

Roy, I…her eyes close as she becomes undone by his touch.

Roy: You already need me this much? He grins at her body’s quivering, the lurid wet sound of his fingers loving her. While he wants to savor his Carla, the wanton desire on her lips fuels a need to make her delirious with pleasure. Roy continues to twirl and pump his fingers the way she enjoys it until he brings Carla to her peak.

Carla: Her body convulses against Roy, her mind going blank. Carla clinches his shoulders and cries his name, lips pressed against the top of his head. Her body sinks in the bedsheets in the aftermath.

Roy…though her limbs still shake, Carla pulls Roy closer to her. She should not be the only one delighted this night. Plus, Carla wants to replace the slightly smug look on Roy’s face with another expression. She whispers in his ear.

Your turn. Her hands slide towards Roy’s waist, tracing light circles on his hips and upper thighs.

Roy: He groans softly in anticipation, his mind clouding as Carla pulls him closer. Roy’s breath is shallow and short, Carla’s fingers sending his body into overdrive.

Carla: I’m not the only one in need it seems. Carla purrs against his skin. One arm encircles Roy’s waist while the other tantalizes his length. Her lips press a wet trail across his upper chest and neck.

Just like this…yes? Carla mimics Roy’s previous teasing tone. Her face is flushed, but seeing Roy slowly come apart is an absolute treat. Her tongue swirls on his chest as her hand moves faster on him.

Roy: He groans as Carla’s tongue and fingers perform wonders. Carla’s name falls from his lips, as if it’s the only thing he can utter. Roy is certain his heart will explode from Carla’s ministrations. His hands clinch the bedsheets, his vocalizations intensifying.

Carla: And now to test how soundproof our chambers are.

She nips his neck, stroking him faster still until he comes undone. Carla takes her other hand and glides her fingertips across his whitening knuckles until they relax into her touch. Light kisses now cover bite marks in soothing pecks as Roy recovers.

Roy: Her actions send him to a point where he doesn’t care if the whole Castle hears him. His voice cries out and his body shakes and slumps. A towel is magically summoned to their bed.

It appears we both need this, Heartspell. Roy chuckles ruefully, wiping their bodies as he catches his breath. Carla rests her head on his chest. A smile spreads across her face when Roy drops a kiss on her forehead.

Carla: It appears so.

Carla breathes in a mingled scent of sweat and roses—Roy always smells sweet Carla thinks. She drapes an arm across his torso and lets a comfortable silence remain between them before speaking.

I said you were handsome in your suit Roy. But I prefer what you wear now. Carla can’t see Roy’s face from her position, but she can easily imagine his cheeks turning pink.

Roy: Is that so? Even when I am all...sweaty like this?

Carla: Yes. It’s you in your most natural state—no political trappings, no formal words, no masks. Just you and your heart exposed. Her speech is a bit sentimental so she tacks on an addendum. And no one else gets to see your pretty body and reactions but me. I rather like that.

Roy: He responds back in a teasing tone. You just had the best view then, did you not?

Carla: Carla buries her head against Roy’s chest and laughs heartily. Cheeky man.

Roy: I can never resist teasing my gorgeous wife.

Carla: You couldn’t resist teasing when I was your consort or fiancé, you know.

Roy: Well, you make it so easy. How am I supposed to ignore teasing someone as beautiful as you?

Carla: Carla sits up, looking down at Roy in mock indignation. Oh, so it’s MY fault?

Roy: Of course it is. Who else's could it be?

Carla: Perhaps, JUST PERHAPS, the rascal prince I’ve married!

She throws a pillow in Roy’s direction, but then notices rose petals on it. She scans her surroundings and sees the bed and most of the carpet sprinkled with rose petals, the room cast in a golden light from numerous candles.

Roy… Carla gestures to candles and roses. You sweet man…. Her cheeks turn pink.

Roy: His eyes catch Carla’s glances at the room. It’s a cute reaction he’s compelled to play with. Roy sits up, grabs another pillow, and tosses it towards Carla. Oh, did you just notice the candles and flowers?

Carla: YES! She deflects the pillow.

Roy: You can thank Nica for supplying the petals. A much better use of them I dare say. Roy smirks and tucks a strand of hair behind Carla’s ear. Too bad you didn’t see them until now. Were you distracted?

Carla: I was as distracted as YOU were! Or were our moans not indicative of this?

Roy: You do inspire quite the response from me. His fingers caress the back of Carla’s neck. And here I thought I was a good, quiet boy.

Carla: HA! She launches herself so Roy’s on his back and she’s lying on top of him. You’re good in another context though…

Roy: And what context is that?

Carla: The “your wife wants to pounce you” context. Carla straddles Roy’s hips enticingly and presses her lips to his.

Roy: Her playful desire envelopes Roy. Their kisses grow intense, thorough, and ravenous. They crave without hesitation or restraint. Roy twines his fingers in Carla’s hair and uses momentum to flip their positions. His hips move against hers, entering her in one smooth powerful stroke. They gasp at the instant fireworks unleashed.

Carla: She is mesmerized—his lips, his touch, the way he yearns for more intimacy, the blaze of Roy’s golden eyes as they give into the moment of being husband and wife in every sense of the word.

Roy…Carla hopes he can feel the passion she has for him. More.

Roy: Roy calls out to her, eyes aflame, skin on fire. He presses further into her, their rhythm increasing rapidly.

Feel me. With all that I am.

Lips devour, seeking her everything—her cries, her sighs, the words she tries to express. Roy tries slowing their pace to prolong the moment, but it’s no use. Carla matches his pace, digging her fingers against his back as the pounding pressure crescendos. Roy encircles one arm under Carla’s waist and tips her slightly upwards, pressing further until they hurdle over the edge together, their voices crying out.

Carla: She feels Roy collapse on her shoulder. They roll onto their sides, clinging to one another. Carla maneuvers her position slightly. She closes her eyes and slowly massages Roy’s scalp, his head resting between her breasts.

Ahhh, so this is what happens when we pounce each other.

Roy: Yes, and your claws are truly sharp.

Carla: What would people say if they knew WHY their prince was so tired now? Her words are soft.

Roy: He murmurs. They would understand it was due to our constant pouncing. Very constant.

Carla: Carla yawns, her fingers slowing to a stop.

Roy: Roy moves back upwards, gathering Carla in his arms. Rest up Heartspell. There’s still the rest of the honeymoon to enjoy. He runs his fingers through her hair, savoring her presence, until they both succumb to slumber.

#court of darkness #voltage games #roy invidia #otome mc #otome fanfic #voltage fanfic #soft smut #wedding fan fic #softcore #immmmmm gonna run away now first smut posted…

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bitchkay · 2 years

Text

more court of darkness headcanons cus I just thought of them☆

No litgit nothing prompted this, I'm literally taking a shit rn-

Cuddling with your paramour♡

*Random order*

Lynt💚

He's just a cuddler in general♡

Just loves having you close to him

Sleeps exponentially better with you in his arms

You are each others blankets.

Either he's on top of you or you're on top of him, no in between

Will trap you in his arms.

This mf is skinny and barely eats, it's scary how strong his hold is on you

He'd be dead asleep and you still can't crawl your way out

You'd deadass be wanting to pee and he'd still have you locked in, even if he wakes up and finds out you need to pee, you are not going to the bathroom by yourself I'm sorry, he won't let go

He's like a big boney teddy bear tho🥺🥺/j

Knight💙

So scared the first time you shared a bed

Was deadass on the very edge of the bed damn near falling off and still wondering if you had enough space

Was also afraid if you didn't like to be touched when you sleep so he was like curled up in a ball until you physically had to tug him over to you

Once yall got comfortable he was alot more natural

yall hold hands in your sleep♡

yall just sleeping with yall fingers laced together, holding tight enough you couldn't be separated if you tried❤

Big spoon.

Will not let himself be little spoon, HAS to be big spoon

Don't matter if you bigger than him or smaller then him, he is big spoon.

Will panic if he wakes up and you're not there, but finds out you just went to make breakfast for him and his heart melts♡

Fenn💜

You don't even get a choice whether or not you wanna cuddle he'll have his hands on you one way or another

One of those things where you're just like 'oh...alright then, not what I asked for but I like this too'

Will genuinely have trouble sleeping if you're not in his arms

Likes when you lay your head on his chest

Fingers will in fact wonder, however nothing more than harmless touches

If them touches become a little less then innocent just smack him and tell him to go to bed

Toa💙

A little stiff at first tbh

Not used to 1. sharing his bed and 2. being this close to another person nonsexually

Gets use to it quickly

Just wants to hold you

He likes when you fall asleep on his stomach while hes reading in the evening before bed

I mean he likes when you're on top of him in genera--

Roy💛

Has no particular preference as long as your comfortable

Can actually sleep in any position

Likes being big spoon and little spoon

likes having you as a backpack*cough* nipples on his back *cough cough*

First time he let you be big spoon it happened to be kinda cold so..

He was like yk what this is nice😼

Loves waking up to you in the morning♡

"Good morning Heartspell~"

Lots of pillow talk

Will drag things out until he absolutely needs to get out of the bed

Morning sex.

Guy❤

Another that won't really give you a choice, you just are going to cuddle

There's no 'let's cuddle' or 'go to bed', he'll just take you there and you'll be so confused until he's like 'aren't you coming🤨'

Guy is secretly a baby.

Don't even try getting out of the damn bed before him, he'll be in a bad mood the rest of the day

Acting like you were tryna leave him like no n👨🏿‍🦲gga I just need to shit

Tino💚

So cute

Forehead kisses before bed

Defaulted to spooning but likes when you lay on top of him

He likes being able to see your face but prefers to spoon you

Big spoon cus he thinks you just fit so perfectly together, like two puzzle pieces♡

Loves when you lay on top of him, between his legs, dick on your stomach and everything

The dick on stomach part is important.

Lance♡

thought people only cuddled after sex-

thought you were tryna start sum

I mean you were bout it but--

Affectionate neck kisses>>>>>>

Will sacrifice the circulation in his arm for you.

Likes laying facing each other, legs tangled up together

His morning voice😩😩>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Tiredly whispering sweet nothings to you while half asleep

TIRED LANCE SUPREMACY‼‼

Morning sex.

Grayson💛

Sleep talker but it's cute

Mumbles your name or words of affection in his sleep

Will either fall asleep on da breast or with a handful of breast, no in between.

likes laying on top of you

At first he was like 'am I heavy🥺🥺🥺' now it's just automatic

You're gonna look at that man and tell me he doesn't like boobies🤨🤨

Perfect pillows, perfect stress balls

We love a titty lover😤✊🏽

If we talking more specifically to me then top surgery scars. He'd give each a nice kiss before bed and settle for a pillow until you're healed♡

BOOBIES SUPREMACY‼‼

Big boobies, small boobies, no boobies, all boobies

If you're insecure, he'll hit you with a 'boobs are boobs😐 goodnight☺️🖐🏽🍒'

A tittys a titty and imma take em😼😼

Rio🧡

Cuddling is his default

Will in fact sacrifice his comfort for yours

Want him to lay on top of you? he will lay on top of you

Want to lay on top of him? he'll let you lay on on top of him

Secretly loves being little spoon-

This man is tall and fucking buff, this man is literally huge but guess what, he wants you to hold him.

Loves being big spoon cus it feels like he's protecting you but being little spoon just does something to his heart♡

Sometimes can't deal with being big spoon cus sometimes you'll push back on him a little too much and then suddenly he's horny--

Dia💚

Surprisingly nonchalant about it

However is actually screaming inside.

Never really directly cuddling but you wake up in each others arms

It was just meant to happen

if you're in his bed, best believe he took a nice extra long shower

It's not even like he's expecting anything he's just nervous

What if you laid down next to him and he smelled like dirt

After the first time he's cool tho

He deadass just gets in bed and opens the covers, that's your invitation.

Little spoon asf

He likes when you rest you head on his back

He just likes when your arms are wrapped around him♡

If I remember correctly Dias bed is against the wall

yall sleep facing the wall.

Violet💜

God I love women so much.

Violet sleepover??😳✂️✂️

Anyway, Violet would hold on to you for dear life-

Similarly to Lynt that girl is not letting go

But yk what I'm ok with suffocating between her breasts, that sounds like a happy death

Cuddling with Violet is actually very comforting

I feel like she has a very nurturing touch

Very protective

She makes sure you're comfortable before falling asleep herself

call me when they give Violet a route cus I will be waiting.

Mommy? Sorry. Mommy? Sor--

Thoma🧡

Petition to give Thoma a consort path go-

I love Thoma so much I wanna kiss him on the lips😥❤

I feel like Thoma sleeps wide like sprawled out on the bed, like taking up all the space

The only chance to cuddle him is to be on top of him

like you just crawl onto his chest and get comfortable

But if you're with him he might curl into you a bit

Still wide but yk he has a hand on your back or with his arms around your middle

Sleeping with Thoma would be very calming

After a long day you just craw into bed with him and are just lulled into sleep by the sound of his slowing heartbeat

Omg I wanna see Thoma without his ponytail

I wanna play with his hair

If Thoma doesn't get a route I'll cry, like I'll literally start sobbing rn. /j but actually /srs

Sherry💛

I love women.

Sherry do you wanna makeout--

Sherry would be so soft with you omg

She's just doting on you before bed

Makes sure you had dinner, did your night routine, always makes sure you have a glass of water

I love her so much I wanna get married😥❤

Sherry sleeps with her head on your shoulder curled into your side with an arm draped over your stomach

Yall lowkey be holding hands in your sleep

I can imagine Roy or someone coming to check on her and yall just curled up together fast asleep and holding hands, and it's just the most heartwarming image ever

Oh my god my heart hurts😣💞

We should all be in agreement that Sherry needs a route by now

We're all gay- and it's pride month too that's homophob--

This was longer than I thought it would be lol

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