#and yet if it's her or wyll i have been getting along with him so well and i'm not willing (ha!) to give him up sorry karlach | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vixstarria · 4 months

Text

Seeing stars

Welp, I wrote more porn.

Astarion x F!Tav/F!Reader

18+, smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings, jealous Astarion, soft dom Astarion, dirty talk, fingering, PIV, elf ears and more! Humour, banter and fluff mixed in per usual. Tav failing several insight checks in the process.

I also poke fun at the in-game romance mechanics, and Wyll's Act 2 scene in particular.

This is the last time they have sex before the "I want us to be something real" conversation.

Approx. 2,900 words

“You won’t believe the ludicrous encounter I just had with Wyll.”

You burst into Astarion’s tent. Well, it was ‘Astarion’s’ tent only notionally at this point. Yours still stood, but it now served solely as storage space for your assorted junk. You had effectively moved in with Astarion, having first coerced him into replacing the wooden plank and bloodstained rags he slept on with some sensible rugs and blankets.

Astarion lounged half-naked on one of the bedrolls, reading something by candlelight.

“Oh?” he looked up at you. “Do tell.”

“First the massage you promised earlier,” you said sinking down onto the floor of the tent and stripping off most of your clothes. “My back is killing me after carrying everyone all day.”

“Oh please...” he rolled his eyes. “I recall you nearly walked into your own cloud of daggers, again, and would have if I hadn’t pulled you away in time. And then you blasted Lae’zel off a cliff. It’s a wonder we haven’t kicked you out yet.” He shook his head. “And if you’re carrying anyone, I’m the one carrying you.”

Still, he sat up as you laid down on your stomach.

“Who do you think you’re fooling with this modesty, darling?” he murmured, noticing that you’d kept your underwear on. “Just lose it now,” he added, as he slid it off, leaving you completely naked, before he settled over you, his fingers commencing work on your shoulders. “So what happened with Wyll?”

“I was making my way back here, and found him... performing some kind of jig by the campfire, pretending like he didn’t know I was there.”

“The ‘Blade of Frontiers’, dancing alone in the middle of camp?” Astarion snickered. “Did you mock him? Please tell me you mocked him.”

“Well... I was going to, but then he asked me to dance with him, very earnestly.”

“That scoundrel...” he mused. “And let me guess - you agreed, didn’t you?”

“Oh trust me, at that point it would have been more awkward not to dance with him, I had to play along.”

Astarion scoffed, with a chuckle.

“Do you always go along with whatever people want from you just because it would be too awkward to say no?”

"I try not to – last time I did, I ended up with a vampire who won’t stop sucking me dry,” you deflected. “I figured there was no harm in indulging him. Besides, I don’t see you dancing with me. It was kind of nice,” you teased.

“I hate dancing,” he said.

“Right,” you said. “I’m sure you hate dancing just as much as you hate poetry, flowers, art, cats... What else?”

“Children,” he answered. “I also can’t stand children.”

“No, that one I could see being true,” you grinned.

“So anyway, you two dolts pranced around the fire to the sound of crickets, then what?”

“And then he tried to kiss me,” you admitted, with a sigh.

Astarion’s hands paused for a moment before resuming their work, slightly harder than before.

“Well look at you, receiving the Duke Ravengard’s heir’s attention. Moving up in the world, hmm?”

“I didn’t let him.”

He laughed.

“Is there even a single person left in camp that hasn’t tried to get into your pants, darling?”

You had to think for a moment.

“Are we counting Volo?”

“Sure.”

“Then just Karlach and Withers.”

“Gods, I fucking love Karlach,” he murmured. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Why? Getting jealous all of a sudden?”

Astarion was silent for a few moments.

“I just don’t understand it,” he said. “You’re with me every night. I’m at your side every day. They see us. They hear us. Still, they don’t take me – or you and me – seriously. Tell me, is there something about me that screams: ‘Please, go ahead and take my lover for yourself. Come on in and snatch her right out from under me, I don’t mind’?”

Perhaps you’d made a bad judgment call when you thought Astarion would find the absurdity of the situation humorous rather than offensive. Still, you had to bite your cheek to keep from laughing at the dramatics he added to the delivery of the last few lines that left his mouth.

“Stop laughing,” he said.

“I’m not laughing,” you laughed.

“I can feel your back muscles twitching in your efforts.”

“Well, they’re aware this all started as a joke. Perhaps they never realised that it’s long stopped being one?” you offered.

Astarion’s hands had been moving lower and lower along your back. They had now reached your ass and continued to rub, stroke and squeeze, as you let out a soft groan.

“That’s not my back, Astarion.”

One of his hands kept squeezing an ass cheek, while the other dipped to stroke you between your legs. He gave a satisfied hum when two of his fingers entered you effortlessly.

“Maybe if they could see how wet I can make you just by rubbing your back they’d reconsider how much of a joke this is,” he said, his voice low. He continued to pump his fingers in and out – you were almost embarrassed by the loud squelching sounds that came out of you. You moaned and tried to lift your hips higher, but your legs were encased between his thighs, pinned down on the bedroll. “Do you think you’d be reacting this way to young Ravengard, darling?”

“Stop it,” you hissed. “You know I don’t want anyone but you.”

“Stop?” he pulled his fingers out, to your dissatisfied whine. You looked back to see him studying your slick on his fingers. “I should go smear this on his face right now... The audacity to try to get his hands on what is not his.” He licked his fingers clean instead. He turned his attention back to you.

“Maybe if you were more vocal about your devotion to me the others wouldn’t make these mistakes.”

His hand returned between your legs, spreading your wetness and slipping lower to tease your clit.

“I could be... encouraged... to be more vocal about it,” you breathed, trying to grind against his hand.

“Yes... I should make you scream my name, so they all know who you belong to.”

His fingers returned inside you, teasing you with shallow strokes.

“You can try,” you taunted him.

Astarion let out an indignant huff and shifted to spread your legs open with his knees, simultaneously placing a hand on your back to firmly hold you down. You expect to feel his cock enter you, but he continued to stroke you with his fingers, turning his hand to curl them downwards.

“Is that a challenge, darling?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “You should know better by now than to bet against me,” he said, continuing to flex his fingers inside you.

It started off pleasant enough, but rapidly grew into... more. And more. You weren’t sure what he was doing but whatever it was, it was just about making you see stars.

You sputtered as the new sensation started to take hold of your whole being.

“Ast… what..”

You couldn't manage anything coherent, as his fingers continued to dig into you, gradually picking up speed and pressure. You started to squirm to try to get away despite yourself, but he simply put more weight against the hand on your back, securely pinning you to the bedroll.

“Always getting yourself into situations you're not prepared for…" he murmured. "You're not talking your way out of this one.”

His fingers were relentless. You were worried you really would scream and wake everyone in camp. All you could do was bite down on the pillow, hoping that it would muffle your drawn-out moans.

“Let go, darling... I know you want to.”

It's not so much that you let go – rather, all your decorum was ripped from you, as your muscles convulsed, the orgasm rolling through your entire body. You panted and shuddered, trying to keep quiet, your hands clutching desperately at the covers beneath you, trying to hold on to anything like your life depended on it.

Once the feeling subsided, you came back to your senses to find Astarion hovering over you, kissing the back of your neck and shoulders, grazing them with his fangs, almost but not quite hard enough to draw blood. You felt his erection rubbing against your hip.

“Has anyone fucked you like this before?” he whispered hoarsely into your ear, his breath ragged from his own arousal. “Tell me.”

“No,” you gasped, trying to catch your own breath.

“I thought so,” he whispered with a smile, kissing your neck before he sat back up.

You turned back to look at him over your shoulder. He watched you with a self-satisfied grin, his fingers returning to stroke you lightly between your legs once more.

“Do you want me to do it again?” he purred.

A part of you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face after what he just put you through. Another, much larger part, wanted nothing more than to submit yourself to whatever he would do to you.

“Yes,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Turn around...” he narrowed his eyes mischievously. “I want to see your face this time.”

You flipped around onto your back, under his watchful gaze. His eyes never left yours as he stroked your slit, teasing your engorged clit with his thumb, before his fingers slipped back inside you.

You found yourself mewling in anticipation before he really even started doing anything.

“So eager,” he smirked. “So wanton...”

He curled his fingers again, moving his whole hand to mercilessly claw into a sweet spot you didn’t even know existed inside you.

You tried to relax into and accept this sensation, now that you were familiar with it. A growing pressure kept building at the bottom of your stomach. It was too much. It was entirely too much. You couldn’t take more of it. You couldn’t-

“Let go, I’ve got you...” His whisper sounded so tender in sharp contrast to the depraved way he was handling your body.

You sobbed as what you hoped was cum gushed out of you, your legs quivering.

“Good girl”, Astarion laughed with glee, bending down to place a kiss on your lips, continuing to stroke you lightly, “Your body reacts so perfectly to me... Do you want more?”

“You... I want you...” you groaned, biting his lip.

“If that’s what my good girl wants,” he purred, discarding what was left of his clothes.

You groaned as his cock entered you, rocking your hips against his, trying to find that feeling again.

“So wet and needy for me...” he goaded you. “I’ve completely ruined you for anyone else, haven’t I?”

He held absolutely nothing back as he fucked you, lewd insistent sounds of skin slapping on skin combined with your shared grunts and moans disturbing what was likely otherwise a silent night.

“Anyone awake knows exactly what I’m doing to you right now,” he rasped, voice thick.

Your walls clenched at the thought, making him shudder and sigh as well.

“You like that thought, don’t you..? I know you do,” he continued. “So shameless...”

Despite yourself, you whimpered, clenching again as another orgasm started threatening to overtake you.

“That’s it... Come for me again,” he groaned. “Come for me, my love.”

‘My love’..? Just a figure of speech, you thought. You’d thrown that phrase around, jokingly, but it’s never sounded so... raw. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to keep hearing it.

“Your what?” you gasped.

He didn’t answer. Instead he caught your lips in a deep, devouring kiss, pinning your arms over your head.

Your body gave in and you trembled under him, caught up in waves of pleasure again.

He released your arms and eased his movements once you rode out your high, but kept kissing you, hungrily, unwilling to release your lips from his.

Clearly, no further words of love would follow, you thought to yourself with a tinge of both relief and disappointment, deciding to let it go.

“You’re so good to me,” you managed, breaking your lips from his.

“Aren’t I just?” he groaned, speeding up again to chase his own release.

You kissed your way up his jaw to his ear, pausing to nibble on his earlobe.

You couldn’t see it, but a ditsy, open-mouthed smile started to play on his face.

Astarion gasped with a sharp intake of breath as you continued further, running your tongue over the inside of the shell of his ear.

“Oh sweet hells,” he sighed with pleasure, immediately grinding into your harder.

You smiled as he tilted his head, just about pressing his ear against your lips.

“Do you like that?” you whispered in his ear, running your tongue over it again, lifting your hands to run your fingers through his hair. You knew he did. You just wanted to hear him say it.

“Yes... Don’t stop...” His words sounded like a desperate plea.

You continued to gently nibble on the edge of his ear, soft moans escaping you from his movements.

“That’s it, take what’s yours” you groaned, as his hips crashed into yours harder.

His breathing and movements were becoming more and more frantic.

“Astarion...” you whispered, grazing the shell of his ear with your lips.

He let out an uncharacteristic whimper, all his usual composure slipping from him, as he bucked his hips, fucking you with quick, shallow thrusts.

“My sweet...” you breathed against his ear.

He came completely undone, spilling into you with forceful, jagged thrusts, before finally stilling. His whole body seemed to melt into yours as he stayed on top of you, trying to regain his breath.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, not wanting to let go of him yet, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to lift himself from you either. Instead he trailed light, tender kisses from your neck up to your lips.

You delicately traced the contours of Astarion’s face with your fingertips, running them from his cheekbone down to his jaw, as he leaned into your caress, gazing into your eyes.

Astarion parted his lips slightly, as though to say something, only to seal them again. He tilted his head to kiss your knuckles as your fingers gradually made their way back up, to run through his hair. Eventually he spoke.

“You would really choose me over the more... blatantly obvious options you have at your disposal here?” he asked quietly.

“Haven’t I made that abundantly clear already..?”

“Well of course you have – no one else is this good,” he said with a tired smirk.

“I’m not talking about the...” you blinked. “You know I’m not with you just for the sex, right..?” you frowned, looking into his eyes.

He looked away, slipping out of you and moving to lie down next to you.

“Is that so?” he said softly.

You found yourself suddenly feeling rattled. Was he simply fishing for compliments again, or had you been utterly oblivious to just how deep his insecurities ran this whole time..?

“You have a wealth of other qualities that I... enjoy and appreciate,” you said, somewhat lamely.

Astarion propped his head up on his hand and raised an eyebrow at you quizzically. There was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes despite his outward nonchalance.

Oh for fuck’s sake, you thought. I’m not ready for any serious conversations now, especially not with cum running down my thighs.

You turned away to grab something to wipe yourself down with.

“A gentleman would clean up his own mess, by the way. Not one of your strong points. But you do have some virtues that make up for it. For instance... I can leave cheese unattended around you, knowing you won’t eat it.”

Astarion went to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“You’re a treasure trove of useless information,” you continued. “But unlike some of our companions you usually keep it to yourself.” A hint of a smile played on his lips at that.

“Your hand feels nice and cold on my forehead when I have a headache.” You laid back down next to him, mirroring the way he was lying.

“You always smell nice, especially for a dead guy. You never hog the mirror.”

“What about my hair, won’t you mention that?” he smiled.

“No, fuck your hair, it makes mine look awful in comparison.”

He chuckled at that.

“I do rather adore the garnet puppy eyes though,” you murmured. “What else... You make me laugh, and, more importantly, I make you laugh – which is great for my ego,” you continued.

“As long as you understand that I’m usually laughing at you,” he countered.

“Prick... Then there’s the fact you’ve saved my life four times.”

“Seven,” he said quietly, looking into your eyes.

“Five.”

“It’s seven, dear, I counted.”

“Whatever. When it comes to battle, you’re silent but deadly,” you said. “Like a-”

Astarion’s hand covered your mouth.

“Do not finish that thought, darling.”

You grinned from behind his palm.

“I think we can be done with this conversation,” he said.

“Wait, wait, one more...” you laughed. “You’re eccentric, unpredictable, often irrational. I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”

You smiled as Astarion groaned dramatically, covering his face with one hand.

“Knowing I’ll get to spend another day in your mad company gives me a reason to get up in the morning,” you added, softly.

“Come here, you sweet fool,” he whispered, drawing you against him.

You hugged him tightly. It took so long for him to start initiating these embraces that wouldn’t lead to sex... You relished each one.

Tomorrow, Astarion thought to himself, unbeknown to you. I have to tell her tomorrow.

~~~~~

Follow up bonus scene

This work is part of a series - here is the master list

Next in series - Confession

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89

@spacebarbarianweird @kittenintheden - hey, I heard you like elf ears

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 smut #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfiction

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aerynwrites · 9 months

Text

Remember

Halsin x gn!Reader

A/N: thank you for the request @sabersandsnipers! I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy! See the request here.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: kissing, love confessions, miscommunication, drunk reader, drunk confessions, morning hangovers/blurry memory, Halsin being a gentleman 🥰

The campfire burns brightly in the night, heating your already heated cheeks.

You all finally came across some good wine, pilfered from a wine cellar in a small abandoned town. Astarion practically melted as he read the labels. Practically glaring at you when you asked him what was so special.

“These are vintage darling. Practically liquid gold compared to the piss we’ve been drinking.”

Your other companions had happily helped tote crates of the stuff back to camp then, excited to finally indulge in the best, for once.

And it is the best. The best you’ve ever had for sure. At least in recent memory.

The wine is rich and decadent, passing your lips without that unpleasant burn the cheap stuff gives. It’s sweet and slides down easily - maybe a little too easily.

It turns your brain to figurative mush, your limbs starting to feel heavy despite the uncontrollable giggles slipping past your lips as Karlach acts out another one of her battle stories.

Your inhibitions have started to slip, especially those tied to your tongue. Because along with your giggles you’re unable to stop your flirtatious rambling to the druid sitting beside you at the fire. He is also taking part in the festivities, albeit more cautiously, only having had a single glass to your…

Well…you don’t know how many.

Another giggle slips past your lips as you lean into the man at your side, watching as Karlach flops down onto the ground in a reenactment of her downing an enemy. Wyll goes to help her up but is also unsteady on his feet and soon joins her in the dirt, both of them howling in laughter.

Halsin lets out a laugh of his own at their antics and you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your numb lips.

“I like your laugh,” you say, turning to look up at Halsin.

The man is taller than you even sitting down, so when he looks down to you, pieces of his hair fall forward into his face.

“My laugh?” He asks, a smile splitting his lips as he most likely finds enjoyment in your inebriated state.

You nod, leaning forward once more to rest your forehead against his chest, abandoning your goblet in favor of wrapping the man in a weak embrace.

“I just like you,” your words are slurred as you slump more into the larger man’s embrace. “And you smell good.”

Halsins chest rumbles with laughter beneath your cheek and it just further adds to the buzzing beneath your skin, even more so when you feel his hands grasp your arms gently.

Yet another thing you notice about him. His hands are calloused, roughened with years of using a weapon and tending the land and communing with nature. But he’s so…gentle. His smile, his words, his laugh, his entire being just screams safety.

It’s what draws you to him no matter how much you try to stay away. Which isn’t very much considering he has slowly started to reciprocate your attraction.

At least…you hope.

“I think it’s high time for you to get some rest,” Halsin says, moving to stand from his seat and guide you to do the same.

“What?” You ask, the world spinning slightly as you get to your feet. “But I’m having fun!”

The words are slurred as Halsin slips an arm around around your waist to steady you, slowly leading you away from the fire. You don’t miss the various whistles and hoots from your other companions as he does so.

Halsin smiles, not that you see it as you focus on putting one foot in front of the other as he leads you.

“I know you were, but it will be an ill-fated day tomorrow if you continue to drink.”

Despite your drunken state you recognize the wisdom in his words.

“You’re probably right, but -“ you pause as you struggle to take in your surroundings before you realize you’re being led away from your tent.

“Wait, my tent is that way,” you emphasize by pointing a staggering finger in the vague direction of your tent, a movement that causes your feet to twist up beneath you.

You would have fallen if it weren’t for the druid at your side stopping to catch you before opting to lift you into his arms instead.

“I know where your tent is located, but my tent is far closer.”

You hum in response, your head lolling backwards, eyes meeting the stars above you.

“I can walk, you know.”

Halsin laughs at this, shifting to support your head as he draws closer to his tent. “Your earlier attempts would disprove that statement.”

You pout your lip at him as he finally ducks into his tent. “You’re mean,” you say plainly.

“I apologize, little one.”

His words hold little apology but you don’t point it out as he finally lowers you to your feet, helping as you try to steady yourself. Only when he pulls away do you finally look up at him, and you take the moment of silence to take in the man before you.

He’s still smiling down at you, all while watching to make sure you keep your feet. His brows furrow slightly with every uneasy shift of your body, his hands tightening where they rest on your hips.

Without thinking you reach up, placing uncoordinated fingers against the scars that run over his brow. He stills at this, eyes widening for a moment before fluttering closed as you trail your fingers down. Your hand cups his cheek now, thumb running over where the scar ends just below his lips.

Lips you want nothing more than to kiss right now.

His eyes open then, as if sensing your questioning stare. You’ve both drifted closer to one another during this silent moment, your chests brushing together as you look up at him.

“Halsin?”

“Yes, my heart?”

Your breath stutters in your chest at the new nickname, and you can smell the faint scent of wine on his breath as he speaks.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words fall into silence, and you can practically feel the tension in the air dissipate as Halsin’s eyes close tightly, a sigh falling from his lips as he steps away from you slightly.

Your drunken mind moves before he speaks, making you stumble over your words.

“Oh that’s - I understand. I shouldn’t have asked, that was - I’m sorry I-“

Before you can ramble any further, Halsin has your face cradled in his hands, green eyes capturing your own.

“You misunderstand,” he tells you, thumbs brushing your cheek bones lightly. “I have wanted to kiss you, to touch you for longer than you can imagine,” he admits, eyes softening. “But I do not wish for our first kiss, our first coming together to be in the midst of a wine induced haze.”

He smiles.

“I want you to remember this, and I’m afraid in this state, you may wake tomorrow with no memory of tonight.” He moves to push a stray piece of hair from your face as one hand settles at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I do not want to lose a moment with you.”

His words ease the anxiety roiling in your belly, and you find it in you to nod. The sentiment increases the heat in your cheeks once again.

Halsin smiles at your ascent, and gently leads you to bed. His bed roll is set up on top of a pile of furs which cradle your body perfectly where you all but flop onto it. Your earlier statement of not being tired is quickly erased as your eyelids begin to shut, sleep tugging at your mind as you settle into the soft bed.

The last thing you remember before slumber takes you is the feeling of warm hands trailing your arms before something soft covers you and one brief thought.

He feels the same.

——————

A pounding headache is what eventually wakes you from your slumber. Your mouth is dry, tongue laying thick in your mouth as you try and fail to swallow and wet your mouth. Your eyelids feel filled with sand as you peel them open, only to be met with darkness. The only light is from the sun seeping into the tent in thin slivers from the slightly parted tent flap.

You notice multiple things at once. First being that you’re not in your tent, but in Halsins. The second being the smattering of blurry memories from last night.

Oh Gods…I basically threw myself at him!

You remember that vaguely, asking to kiss him, and then the rest is…foggy. You remember him turning you down and then not much else afterwards.

Pushing yourself up on shaky arms you try to take in your surroundings, letting out a small sigh when you see Halsin isn’t in the tent with you. You can avoid embarrassment just a little longer, at least.

You quickly grab your shoes that you see at the end of the bedroll and after making sure the coast is clear you make your way across camp in the early morning light to your own tent.

The next few hours pass in a blur if periodic sleep and the eventuality of the camp stirring to life around you. A rude reminder that you can’t avoid a certain druid forever.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Karlach's voice pierces the air as she pokes her head into your tent. “Can you take firewood duty? We’re running low.”

You nod quickly. You might not be able to avoid the inevitable but…maybe a little longer.

————

The woods are quiet, this time of day, morning starting to give way to midday as you wander through the trees, gathering suitable logs for camp.

However, the tranquility of nature gives your mind time to wander back to last night, desperately trying to force memories to light. But no matter how hard you try, nothing new comes to light. Just you embarrassing yourself in front of the man who’s captured your affections.

You sigh, before gasping as the toe of your boot catches on an exposed root, your thoughts distracting you from your surroundings. The wood in your arms teeters precariously and just about falls to the forest floor before you feel two strong hands steady you.

“You look as if you could use some help,” a familiar voice says, and your stomach flips as Halsin comes to stand in front of you, smiling down at you. “Here.”

He reaches out to take the wood from you before you can protest, the pile that nearly filled your arms looking tiny against his larger frame.

You want to become defensive, but stop yourself before you can snap. Your anger is misdirected to him when you’re really upset with yourself.

You give the man a small smile. “Thank you,” you say before gesturing back towards camp. “I think that should be enough for now, we can head back.”

Halsin just nods before moving in step beside you as you both make the short trek back to camp. Neither of you speak at first - you too anxious to bring anything up and Halsin is probably too polite to do the same.

At least you thought.

“You were gone from my tent when I arrive back from a hunt this morning,” he says simply. An observation. Yet it feels like an accusation, or at least a question. But you almost feel like you can hear…disappointment in his words. Hurt.

You don’t look at him, embarrassment blooming in your chest again. You shrug. “I just…figured I’d save us both the awkward embarrassment.”

You’re at the edge of camp now, and you stop next to the dwindling wood pile and start unloading pieces from Halsin arms onto the ground.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you finally say, avoiding his gaze still. “I shouldn’t have drank so much and I definitely shouldn’t have put you on the spot and I just thought that if I left this morning it would save you from having to turn me down again and-“

The last piece of wood falls from your hands as you fumble over your words, but a steadying hand quickly reaches out to grab your own before you can move to pick it up again.

Finally, you turn to look at Halsin, and you’re taken aback to see…amusement twinkling In his eyes, his lips tugging up into a small grin.

“So you do not remember last night?” He asks, head tilting to the side slightly.

You shake your head, frowning. “I mean I don’t - I remember some of it. I remember asking to - to kiss you…” you cringe slightly at the hazy memory. “And then I remember you pulling away and-“

Before you can ramble any further, callused hands cup your cheeks and soft lips capture your own.

A memory comes to you then, as if Halsins touch alone makes it resurface. You remember what you thought was his rejection, then his confession, then his kind words after.

“I want you to remember this.”

He didn’t reject you. He returns your affections, and has for some time now it seems.

You finally kiss him back, your hands falling to his waist and gripping the fabric of his shirt in your hands. He pulls you closer then, lips moving against yours in a way that screams desperation. He’s been holding back for so long, and so have you.

But not anymore.

Yet he pulls away all too soon, leaving you breathless and wide eyed as you look up at him, still gripping onto him as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear if he steps away.

“I don’t think I could have forgotten a kiss like that,” you say, voice soft.

Halsin laughs, a quiet chuckle as his thumb runs soothingly over your cheekbone.

“I will not forget this moment either,” he assures. “But I did not want to risk losing it to the haze of last evening. These things are better enjoyed with a clear mind.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the seriousness of his words. “You’re not wrong in that,” you say, reaching up to trace gentle fingers over the scars on his brow.

Another memory flickers to mind and you smile as you watch Halsins eyes flutter closed, just like they did last night.

“Halsin,” his name is a whisper on your lips.

He smiles, eyes blinking open once more. “Yes, my heart?”

Gods that nickname.

“Can I kiss you?”

He pulls you closer, nose brushing your own. “You never have to ask, little one. My heart is yours.”

And then his lips are on yours again, and you're silently glad he made you wait. Because he was right.

You don’t want to lose a moment with him, either.

#halsin x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 halsin x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 halsin #halsin

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galedekarios · 8 months

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just musing about gale and his parents:

we only have a handful of conversations where he mentions his parents and when he does, it's usually only his mother, morena dekarios.

his mother is mentioned at several points in the game. during a custom protag playthrough, he mentions her in a datamined conversation that appears to be bugged/broken:

and he mentions her at the end of the game as well when he proposes to the player:

i was also able to find another mention in a banter with karlach that usually happens for me shortly after recruiting her:

from gale's origin, this aspect is explored even more deeply:

there's more, of course, and it very clearly shows that the bond he shares with his mother is a deep and loving one from both sides. it's also very interesting that he is called dekarios after his mother and not--even though naming conventions could certainly vary even in waterdeep--after his father.

who he doesn't mention at all.

the only time we do get a vague mention is during a conversation with the protag after saving mirkon from the harpies:

after that, i haven't been able to find any reference, indirect or direct, to gale's father in the game.

so, here we enter theory territory:

i feel that, from a narrative point of view, in keeping with what i think gale's themes are, gale's father may have abandoned gale and his mother when gale was still young.

gale's character is rife with what might be interpreted as abandonment issue and it makes sense to me at least that those weave through his life up until the point where the protag meets him in the game.

another theme with gale is that he appears to have a lot of female figures in this life, who all had a profound impact on him, whether that impact is positive or negative: morena, tara, and yes, mystra.

it feels like to me that he had no father figure--and i use that term a bit more loosely here--until later in his life with elminster. this is already hinted at in a game with a custom protag, but all the more solidified in a gale origin playthrough:

i think without directing telling you, the game does allow you to sort of guess at that part of his background in this way, and understand why gale is as he is as a consequence. you can also understand why he acts as he does with elminster. seeking his approval. yearning for it. being extremely hurt by elminster having to see him like this when mystra sends him to gale to deliver her... instructions. this almost pointed absence of a mention of his father in all his comments (and tara's too, now that i think about it) when it comes to family is glaring to me.

being left, being abandoned, makes it much more understandable to me why he doesn't speak of him at all: if gale's father had died, it would make more sense to me that he would remark on it or share it in some way or another. it might have come up in a banter with wyll, perhaps, who is struggling with the expectations his own father had placed on him.

"he died when i was still very young." perhaps, or something along the lines of, "i barely remember him; he died when i was only a child.", etc etc etc.

YET if gale's father indeed abandoned his mother--who he holds in such high regard, and not to mention his own hurt--i can easily see and understand why he wouldn't waste a word on him.

anyhow yes, this is long and ramble-y, and i 100% might be reading too much into what may be a simple oversight, but it was interesting to me and i still see it as tying in with the theme of abandonment, even though we don't know the reasons for it in this particular case.

was it not wishing to deal with a child with magical talents he couldn't control yet? was it for another reason entirely?

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #meta: mybg3

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galacticgraffiti · 9 months

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❁ Sugar (I've developed a taste for you) ❁

!!! NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI !!!

Summary: Astarion asks for a favour and ends up getting more than what he bargained for (or: I'm a lesbian but this fictional little vampire twink can get it)

Rating: Explicit (for eventual smut) Wordcount: 2.4k Descriptors: I try to keep my reader-inserts fairly neutral, but let me know if anything slips through the cracks! Astarion is his usual self, pathetic and awful yet somehow also lovable as fuck. CW: bad flirting, friends with benefits (and the benefit is bloodsucking lol), blood, blood drinking, biting, hint of praise kink, eventual proper smut, nicknames, so much innuendo

✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ If you prefer AO3 ⋆✦

༻────• ༻❁༺ •────༺

Chapter 1: My my, those eyes like fire

He could be lovely if he wasn’t so self-involved.

That is the first thought you have when you meet Astarion. He is not downright mean, but something about him just bugs you. He flirts with every creature on two legs (sometimes even those with more), but that’s not it.

Something about all his honeyed words just feels so… insincere.

You think Astarion has something to hide, and you desperately want to know what it is. So far, he has shown no signs of weakness, and he is as much as self-entitled twat as when you first met him. And this continues to be your opinion of him… up until today.

The day has been hard. Your feet hurt, your hands have blisters, and you are smeared with blood pretty much all over. Your shirt has been ripped and frankly, you don’t know when you might find the time to mend it. There is a giant bloodstain on the thigh of your trousers, and you are pretty sure your hair has become completely encrusted in blood quite some time ago.

But you have made it back to camp and that is all that counts.

As you shake out your bedroll and try to ignore the fact that this is the seventh night in a row that you’ll have had bland stew for dinner, you catch Astarion’s eyes across the fire.

His gaze is… odd.

You have seen him in the heat of battle, you’ve seen the glint in his eye when he comes up with another of his devious plans. You’ve even seen him amused, shaking with laughter when Gale recited an - admittedly very ambiguous - poem to you.

But you have never seen him like this. It’s not affection, nor is it desire that lights up his delicate features. He almost looks… desperate. Like he is starving for something, and you can’t place your finger on what it is.

As soon as Astarion notices that you have caught him, his eyes flick away. He saunters off, way too casual to not be obvious about it.

You stare after him, vaguely confused. But then, Karlach makes her way over to ask for more stew, and you forget all about it. For the moment.

Her smile makes your belly flutter, and you wish you knew more about her, and so you do your best to make conversation, joking and asking shallow questions.

Astarion’s eyes haunt you through dinner.

Even though the day was exhausting, the nights in your little camp are starting to grow on you. Gale is funny in his own, book-wormish way. You have learned that Karlach is downright hilarious in her joy about the world outside of Avernus, and Wyll is always scandalised by her, which is admittedly quite fun to watch. Lae’zel and Shadowheart keep to themselves a bit more, but even they share the meals with the rest of you.

You laugh when Karlach imitates Wyll’s horrified expression, but in spite of yourself. your eyes keep wandering to the silver hair of your elven companion who is sitting across from you.

Astarion is staring at you again, his eyes focused on some point below your jaw. He is watching you intently, seemingly unaware you have caught him. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away - he just stares at you as your spoon scrapes along the bottom of your bowl.

Only when you get up to wash off before you go to bed does he move again.

Sometimes, Astarion reminds you of a scared animal in the way he moves, his eyes flicking back and forth, his hands trembling slightly whenever he is not in battle. He hides right out in the open, behind his swagger and his dirty jokes and innuendos, behind his beautiful face and his beautiful body.

Tonight, though, even in all his desperation, Astarion is not prey. He is a predator. And like any talented predator, he has managed to get his prey away from the protection of the group.

You are kneeling in the small stream that runs by the camp, washing your bowl, your clothes, yourself - everything is dirty and soaked in mud, sweat and blood. You are barely wearing anything, but your companions have seen you in much more precarious situations at this point.

Astarion approaches quietly, sneaking up on you in that manner where you can never tell whether it is intentional or not. He is just… there, suddenly, shedding his clothes next to you, blood still smeared on his pale skin.

He stops short of the water, watching you from the riverbank. You try not to gawk as he undresses, but something about him seems unusually anxious. The way he pushes hit foot forward so slowly, testing the water, makes you wonder if he might not know how to swim.

Astarion smiles suddenly, taking a step into the stream and towards you, then another, his smile growing the deeper he wades into the water. Dark red streaks appear in the water where the blood is washed from his pale skin.

He clears his throat and raises a sharp brow.

“And how are you feeling tonight, sweet thing?” he inquires. His eyes flick over your body, focusing on a point below your ear for a moment before he rips his gaze away again.

“‘M alright,” you answer, brow furrowed as you scrub your shirt a little harder than you actually need to. Why he has to be so infuriating with his nicknames, you’ll never know. “Today was… a lot. I wanted to have a quiet moment.”

“Ah.”

He doesn’t seem to get the hint. He merely wades further into the stream, shimmering pearls of water running down his back. When you don’t say anything else, he turns to face you once again.

“Are you not going to ask me how I am, darling?”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you mumble, throwing your shirt to the side, Clearly, you’re not getting anywhere with it tonight.

“Tsk, so rude. Somebody should really teach you some manners.” He clicks his tongue at you like you are an insubordinate child, shaking his head until droplets hit you.

You press your lips together. If he wasn’t so beautiful, he wouldn’t get away with half the things he does, and it frustrates you to no end. You catch yourself forgiving him on occasions where you don’t mean to, simply because his face is the prettiest things you have ever seen, and you hate it.

Astarion watches you carefully, gauging your mood. You stare back at him defiantly. What the hell could he want from you, anyway?

The hunger in his eyes is back, you notice - that desperation that you can’t quite place. There is a pained expression around his mouth, and despite all his cockiness, he is clearly not doing entirely well - his skin even paler than usual, his hands shaking a little when he crosses his arms.

Astarion yawns, his gaze raking over you in a way that makes you shiver. You tell yourself it’s just the cold of the water.

“Well, I was going to ask you for your help, but you are in a terrible mood.” He inspects his fingernails, and even though you know exactly that he is baiting you, you can’t help yourself.

“You? Need my help? Never thought the day would come.” Your voice is biting, but you can’t hide the note of curiosity that sneaks in.

“Don’t make me out to be such a horrible companion.” Astarion takes a step closer to you through the water. You take a step back. He laughs, but his eyes catch on your neck again. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

You shrug.

“Sometimes you are.”

“Hm.” He raises his brows, and takes another step towards you. This time, you don’t step back. “Well, I suppose that can’t be helped, my love. We all have good and bad days, don’t we?” He cocks his head. “And today has been quite hard for me.”

You make a non-committal noise, staring him down. What in the hells is he trying to do? Seduce you?

Your body likes that thought much more than your mind does.

Astarion is watching you intently. He stretches out his hand to take yours, and in your surprise, you don’t even pull back. His thumb rests right against the delicate inside of your wrist, and he closes his eyes.

You wait for him to drone on about how he carried your group on the battlefield, to gloat that you now owe him your life seven times over, but he doesn’t. Astarion stays eerily still, breathing deeply as his thumb strokes your wrist, pressing against your pulse point.

You can’t keep quiet any longer, not with the odd way he is behaving. Maybe he got hit by a spell, or…

“Any reason today was particularly hard for you?” You meant to sound sarcastic, but the question comes out sounding sincere. You scold yourself for caring so much.

Your skin burns like fire where he is touching you. Astarion’s eyes open, and he looks at you like he was a million miles away. He is so close now - much closer than you realised. You can see the fiery ring around his irises.

“I…” To your surprise, his voice is hesitant and quiet. “It’s easier to just… show you. You see, I need something from you, my darling.”

You frown.

“Why ask me? You could ask any of us, and most of them would be more inclined to help than I am. I’ve seen the way that Gale watches you at the fire-”

“Gale?” Astarion sounds genuinely amused. “Darling, do you think I’m asking you for sexual favours right now?”

“I- yes?” Your voice is full of uncertainty. “I mean… is that not what you were going to say?”

Astarion smiles, small and sharp.

“No.” He is even closer to you now, his thumb still caressing the skin of your wrist. “Even though I would not be disinclined if you offered… you are quite beautiful, you know?”

“Mh. Thank you?” You wish your heart would not beat faster at the way he looks at you. It’s a look that doesn’t fit the words that fall from his lips, a look that betrays the desperation with which he needs this favour. “What-”

“What I am asking for is simple.” He is so close now he could kiss you if you leaned in. “All I want is… a taste.”

“I- what?”

His lips are on your neck, his hand in your hair. You are not quite sure when that happened.

“Say yes, sweet thing,” he breathes. “Just a taste of your blood and-”

“My blood?” You sound more distraught than you actually feel. You are… oddly resigned. You should have seen this coming - you knew something was up with him, you knew he wasn’t telling you the whole truth.

And now, here you are. With a fucking vampire. His lips graze your pulse point, and your heart beats faster. You can feel the heat of his breath when he utters a single word.

“Please.”

It’s that one word that changes everything. Just like that, he has you. All the arrogance, all the superiority is gone from his voice, and what is left is just hunger and the fear that you might reject him. For a moment, you are sure you must have imagined it, but then, Astarion repeats himself.

“Please.” His hand tightens around your wrist, though he is trembling more than you are. “Just a taste, no more.”

Your lips are numb when you answer, your mind screaming at you not to let him- this is dangerous, this is stupid- you have already lost so much blood in the fight today and-

“Yes.” Your hands are on his shoulders, then in his silver hair. He smells so good; even after this horrid day. Your voice is softer than you intend for it to be, but his desperation makes you weak. “If you need it, it’s yours.”

Astarion makes a sound that shatters you, and before you can think too much about your own colossal stupidity, his fangs sink into your neck.

It’s not painful.

It’s uncomfortable, but the fear that bites into your heart ebbs after mere seconds. Astarion’s hands are surprisingly warm against you, keeping you upright. Your head falls to the side, granting him easier access and - oh.

Why does it feel so good?

You become acutely aware of your blood flowing from the small puncture wounds in your neck, and for a moment, you panic, stiffening in Astarion’s arms.

“There, there, sweet thing.” His lips don’t raise an inch from your neck. “It’s alright, just trust me. Just a taste, all I want is a taste…”

Your head is swimming.

“You have tasted me,” you whisper, trying to pull away. When you look into Astarion’s eyes, there is a red glint in them - and a sadness that overwhelms you.

“No taste of you will ever be enough.” Astarion looks up at you from beneath long lashes. “You are divine, my love.”

The tip of his tongue wets his lips, licking up the small droplets of blood that linger.

You stare at him, trying with all your might to focus.

“You said… just a taste. No more than you need.”

His finger traces your jaw, down your neck, and your whole body is on fire.

“If it were up to me, I would need all of you,” Astarion sighs, his lips on your neck again, his tongue lapping at the blood that flows from the wound he has given you. “I would take and take, and give you so much in return. I would have you in ways you did not even know you wanted. Taste everything you have to offer.”

You shiver when he raises your wrist to his mouth, soft lips pressing to delicate skin.

“I would cherish you, keep you. My little pet, so perfect, so beautiful in every way. So eager to give what I need. Would you give me more if I asked?”

“Of course,” your lips say even though those were not the words you were planning to utter. But how could you ever say no to him? “If that’s what you need.”

Astarion’s sigh is one of rapture and delight.

“So obedient for me… You know, all these days I thought you hated me.” He chuckles to himself. “I suppose even I can be wrong sometimes.”

His teeth sink back into your neck, and the world goes dark.

༻────• ༻❁༺ •────༺

>> Next Chapter

HELLO MY DOVES i finally found time to format this for tumblr so here you go, for those who are not in love with the bear, you can get the twink, as a treat.

@deewithani @ficsbynight @kote-wan @ariadnes-red-thread @rescuethewretched @twistedstitcher27 @kakashibabe02 @writingbylee @purgetrooperfox @basilbumble @witchklng @lackofhonor @ashotofspotchka @sailor-blossom @misogirl828 @amyroswell @darkjedipoptarts @pinkiemme @sleepingsun501 @fett-djarin @samanthacookieone @tortor-mcgee @corrabell @queen--kenobi @elegantduckturtle @felinaone @palpipeen @wild-karrde @obeydontstray @nomercyforthewarrior @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @thefact0rygirl @everythingyouwanted @equalityforcats @cagrame @ladykatakuri @snakerune @shadesofshatteredblue @100lxtters @damerondala @tachyon-girl @rintheemolion @pickleprickle @mando-amando @certified-anakinfucker @baba-fett @ulchabhangorm

#bg3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #astarion smut #bg3 smut #YA WELCOME #astarion x reader #astarion x you #sugar series #gala writes

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avocado-writing · 3 months

Note

If requests are still open, could you do how the gentlemen companions + the tiefling bachelors would react to their small, usually very sweet and timid, s/o catching them off guard by flipping a switch and displaying very bold and dominant behavior towards them? Could be nsfw or sfw. Up to you!

Love your work so much, sending you all of the best! 🧡

under a cut bc nsfw >:) minors dni

Astarion

he’s doing his thing, kissing up your neck, thrusting his clothed cock along the crease between your thigh and your sex

muttering sweet filth into your ear, reaches out to lick the line of your jaw —

suddenly a switch flips, you grab his shoulders and then he’s beneath you

“is this okay?” you ask, breathily, running your teeth up the length of his neck, nipping where his pulse would be

he’s immediately harder than he’s ever been in his life.

becomes rather quiet as you fuck him, not relying on his usual dirty talk, in fact all he can do is moan and hang onto you

he cums so hard he goes lightheaded

“my heart… that was… something…”

you giggle and bury your face, suddenly shy again, but up for a repeat performance…

Gale

this man loves to be dommed. prove me wrong.

when you start being more dominant, he is thrilled.

lots of moans and whines to let you know how much he’s enjoying it, how well you’re doing

encourages you to bite and scratch. he wants evidence of this, of you.

he lies back and you ride him, pressing your fingers into his mouth for him to suck, and he’s never been more pleased lol

you like cuddly aftercare, checking in that he’s alright, and he lets you know at great length how much he enjoyed the experience

you catch him admiring his bruises and lovebites in the mirror later, proud 😌

Wyll

as we know our lovely lad wants to wait until marriage, so if we’re imagining this scenario mid-adventure…

maybe he watches in awe as you put Mizora in her place, giving her a real dressing down, telling her to leave Wyll alone

he’s never seen this side of you, so vicious… and for him… it makes him feel things.

when she leaves you turn around and give him the most ferocious kiss, possessive

maybe you grab his arse a bit too…

when the two of you separate, breathless, you mumble a little “I just don’t like her talking to you like that…”

he smiles and feels his face grow hot at your behaviour and realises how much he likes it 😏

Halsin

halsin is a big dude. if you’re smaller than him and suddenly you’re dominant? he’s surprised for sure.

he’s kissing you with your back up against a tree, you’re getting really into it, and suddenly your grab him by the hips and flip your position

his eyes go wide but he finds himself moaning into your kiss

it’s all rough. the bark is rough against him, your lips are rough against his, and suddenly your hands are all over him

touching his chest, running across his stomach, reaching down to cup his cock …

suddenly he realises how hard he is. genuinely, he’s throbbing in his trousers.

as you rub and kiss him harder he thinks he might be in danger of coming in his trousers like a pent-up, much younger man

yet as he feels your touch, he welcomes it. you make him release with a whimper.

he is so utterly enchanted by you. you never cease to amaze him.

Dammon

oh, Dammon. strong arms and strong heart, used to being the more dominant one when you’re together. thinks that you expect it from him?

then one day you steal into his forge with a wicked look on your face…

you shut the door and lock it behind you. he takes off his gloves and turns to you to ask what’s the matter, but is swept up by your fierce kiss

when you stop to your knees he feels his face go scarlet.

says you don’t have to, but absolutely melts under your touch when you unlace his trousers and take his cock in your hand

oh, he’s speechless when your mouth is on him.

you give him mind blowing head in front of his forge, fire both at his back and from your lips.

he comes embarrassingly quickly.

you swallow - swallow! - give him a quick kiss, and leave with a saunter 😈

Rolan

pretends he’s expecting this. is a bratty sub lol

but as soon as your mouth comes into play he just melts.

you bite his nipples, nip down his torso, and take him so deep into your throat that he mewls underneath you.

if you’re in his tower? lay him out on his archwizard’s desk and ride him until he’s totally lost the power of speech. all he can manage is a desperate mantra of “please, oh gods please…”

he’ll do anything for you in that moment. makes promises of his devotion, his love, please just let him cum…

when he’s boneless and sweaty he begins to get very embarrassed, he worries that you might think less of him for being so needy

but you just cuddle him and kiss him all over his face. when you call him a good boy he thinks he might just explode.

Zevlor

Zevlor is a switch because he’s a grown-ass man.

happy when either of you are dominant if that’s the mood your lovemaking takes, but does love it when you’re on top.

you pin him down, pressing his shoulders into the mattress and working his cock inside of you

his hands settle on your hips and he begins to chant your name like a prayer.

fucking him feels like an act of worship. your body is his altar at which to offer prayer. he looks up at you from the flat of his back and knows he has been blessed with you.

“do you love me, Zevlor?” “with every inch of my heart.”

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thehistoriccemetery · 4 months

Text

BG3: Reader is Kidnapped/Tortured

This one started as a Shadowheart oneshot, but I decided to expand it to include Lae’zel, Karlach, and Minthara as well.

Let me know your favorites! I’m looking to expand more of my stuff into one shots, so it’s good information to have!

Content Warning for torture (obviously)

Shadowheart

When the days adventuring party returns without you, her blood immediately runs cold. They didn’t just come back without and leave you out there right?

When they inform her that you’ve been taken by the cloister, her face goes pale.

It takes Karlach and Wyll on either side of her to get her eased down onto a bedroll and breathing regularly. You were gone.

And to make matters worse, Viconia DeVir had you in her grip. Even with her amnesia, she could recall just how cruel the woman was.

The party had made great strides in passively finding clues about the location of the House of Grief, but they were still yet to find it.

Finding it had now jumped from a passive priority to the single most important thing they could be doing.

Shadowheart spent most of that night weeping in frustration at her inability to remember. She had grown up there for gods sake. The past 40 years at least had been spent in that damned house.

In the end, it was actually Astarion who finally discovered the sanctuary’s location. It was decided that he and Shadowheart would be the two best suited to sneak in and retrieve you.

When they found you, you were lying on the house’s marble floor, chained up to rigs that came out of the ground. The chain around your neck only barely allowed you to sit up to look at your rescuers.

“Shadowheart? Shadowheart is that you?” You whispered into the dark room. You could only see two silhouettes, but the quaffed elven hair of Asterion and the pointy crown of Shadowheart gave it away.

You instinctively tried to rush towards her, only to be stopped by the strain of your restraints. It didn’t much matter though, because Shadowheart was at your side in a matter of seconds.

She stroke your cheek, paying special attention to cut that stretched across your face. She was quick to move around to other parts of your body, stopping to carefully examine each of your wounds. Your restraints left you unable to reach out to her in anyway.

“Shadowheart, please, you have to get out of here, now,” you nearly cry. “They’re looking for you.” Astarion joins the two of you on the ground, getting to work at picking the several locks that held you in place.

It takes her a moment to register what you were saying. Her first thought is an obvious refusal, she’s not going anywhere without you.

But then the implications of your words dawn on her. They took you because they couldn’t find her. All of this torture you’ve endured, you’ve done it to protect her.

“Please Shadowheart,” you beg. “I swear I didn’t tell them anything. You’ll be safe at camp, just please go.”

Her head spins with newly uncovered memories of the torture she inflicted before the Nautaloid. She remembers how the Sharrans go about getting information from people.

“Astarion, how are coming along on those locks?” she ignores your pleas in favor of getting you free. Your upper body is now free, but he seems to be having trouble with your ankles.

“Patience, darling,” he quips, nearly earning him a slap across the face from Shadowheart.

Within the minute the shackles drop from your ankles, leaving you free to stand up on shaking legs. Shadowheart gives you a quick healing spell before asking “do you think you can make it back?”

You nod, following her and Astarion back the way they came in.

You had never been more excited to see camp than you were in that moment. You laid down face first on the plush Elfsong mattress. You hadn’t slept at all the previous night, and being tortured really took it out of you.

Shadowheart sat on the bed next to you. The fact that you laid down on your stomach did not bode well for the condition of your back.

She tugged gently at the hem of your shirt. “Arms up, love,” she cooed. You whined and crossed your arms over your chest. You didn’t want to show her what they had done.

“If you truly will not show me, I will get Jaheira to look after you,” she reasoned. “But, please, let me take care of you.” The second part was more a plea than anything.

Reluctantly, you lifted your arms and allowed her to pull the shirt over your head.

She did her best to remain stoic. She had seen endless wounds like this. She had inflicted endless wounds like this. But against her will, a sob choked its way up her throat.

The same back she had spent so many nights tracing and trailing with kisses was now so raw and bloodied, she wondered for a moment if you had any skin left.

She used every last bit of energy healing the wounds. By the time she was done she had exhausted herself too much to even make it back to her own bed.

She spent the night curled up around your legs, resting her head on your lower back. Viconia was going pay for what she’d done, she’d make sure of it.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel isn’t the usually the tactical planning type, but when you’re captured by Vlaakith’s army, she realizes this isn’t a kick-down-the-front-door type of mission.

This does not, however, make her any more patient during the planning process. The githyanki could have you floating halfway through astral plane by now.

Luckily, the gith as a whole aren’t known for their subtleties, so you’re not hard to track down.

Protection is thankfully slim enough that the party can pretty much strong arm their way to you.

When Lae’zel finds you are bound by some magical device that was, as loathe as she was to admit it, beyond her level of expertise.

You were at least conscious, which was truly remarkable given your condition. All your clothes were torn and bloodied, but the most concerning and blatant wound came for the side of your head.

Almost the entire left side of your face was completely covered in dried blood, all leading back to the gash on the side of your head that was once your left ear.

Lae’zel cursed, pointlessly kicking the arcane barrier.

You could see her shouting at Gale. Presumably she was impatiently rambling about freeing you, but you couldn’t make out what she was saying through the barrier.

All you saw was a long dagger that she pulled from her belt before storming off in the direction of your now dead captors.

Lae’zel was still gone when the party finally figured out how lower the barrier around you.

You stumbled out onto your knees and immediately found yourself surrounded by the party’s healers.

Lae’zel came stomping back moments later, carrying a small wooden bucket she didn’t have before. Likely she just found it somewhere around the gith camp.

She dropped the bucket at your feet without a word, leaving you to examine the contents for yourself.

You looked down into the bucket to find a dozen or so fleshy green ears.

You look back up at her, not sure whether to be honored or disgusted.

The smug look on her face let you know that this was certainly a gift she was proud of, so honored it is.

“Thank you. It’s nice to have plenty of choices when it comes to choosing my replacement.”

Karlach

Karlach really does try to be tactical most of the time, but you’ve been taken by none other than Lord Gortash himself.

And the idea that you are gone and she is here, at camp, while the others make a plan of how to rescue you? She can hardly contain herself.

She paces around camp, leaving a thick line of charred wood beneath her as she walks the same path over and over again.

Chewing her nails isn’t usually a nervous habit of hers but at this point she’s liable to chew her fingers off.

She logically knows it would do no good to come out guns blazing when you’re probably locked up behind the entirety of the steel watch, but worry and adrenaline nearly get ahead of her.

It is Shadowheart and Halsin who finally pull her from her thoughts. They have a plan, and much to Karlach’s relief it involves her. She was terrified they might agree upon a stealthier approach and ask her to stay behind.

She would have done it, if it were truly what was best for you. She might have burned up the entirety of the Elfsong Tavern by the time you finally got back though.

Luckily, since Karlach was mistaken by the steel watch as a defective watcher, she was actually best equipped to break in.

The plan, in whole, ran pretty smoothly. At least until the moment Karlach actually set eyes on you, bruised up and unconscious in the middle of a cell.

All bets were off after that. There was one thing that mattered and it was having you, safe with her again.

The minute it took Astarion to pick the lock was the longest of her entire life. She was nearly burning hot enough to melt through the bars herself.

The moment the door popped open, she was beside you, on her knees pulling you into her chest.

Shadowheart whisper-shouted behind her, reminding her to watch your neck and be gentle with your head. She carefully situated her large hand to cradle your head.

She rocked back and forth, trying to soothe her own panicked heart. “Hey bub, it’s me. I came to rescue you. I… please wake up. I’m here now. You’re safe.”

When you didn’t ever stir, Karlach looked up at Halsin and Shadowheart, eyes brimming with tears and worry. “They aren’t waking up. Why aren’t they waking up?”

Halsin joined Karlach on the ground, leaning to put his head on your chest. “Their heart continues to beat and their lungs draw breath, but they are weak. We must get them to camp.”

There was an incredibly brief argument about who was best fit to carry you, given that your skin was already starting to redden from Karlach’s heat, but her bottom lip quivered at even the mention of you leaving her arms.

When they managed to get you back to the Elfsong, Karlach was reluctantly convinced to lay you down on your bed.

She winced when she saw the small burns starting to form on the side of your body she had held to her own. Your left cheek was already starting to blister. Maybe she should’ve let Halsin carry you after all.

The healers came by to try and figure what had happened to you. You had no visible injuries, aside from the minor burns, yet you were still unable to be stirred.

It was actually Minthara who suggested they may have inflicted mental torture rather than physical, similar to what was inflicted on her at Moonrise.

The idea made Karlach burst into uncontrolled sobs. “You think they may have been erased?!”

Minthara looked sympathetically down at Karlach, but didn’t have an answer for her.

The party collectively decided that the only thing they could do is wait and let you rest.

Afraid to burn you with the fire that courses through her veins, Karlach restrained herself from crawling into bed with you. Instead she knelt next to the bed, resting her head on the mattress and reaching up to stroke your body.

She couldn’t sleep at all that night, only stroke your burned cheek and cry softly into your mattress.

She started to talk to you, talking about all the things she’s like to do with you when all of this was over.

“Maybe we’ll get a little place in Lower City, next to the water so we can watch the sunsets with all the boats ‘n stuff floating out in the distance. Oh! And we can go on little picnics in Bloomridge Park, and feed our leftovers to all the stray cats and dogs. Oh who am I kidding we’re taking all of them home with us. We’re gonna have a whole farmhouse if you can’t stop me.”

When you finally do wake up, Karlach wraps her arms around in a hug so tight you nearly suffocate. She eventually settles to sit in your lap while you gently stroke her hair.

Gortash better start counting because his days are dangerously numbered.

Minthara

The moment Minthara finds out you’ve been taken by Orin, her heart nearly stops beating.

One moment it was you, the love of her life, standing before her. Then, through the breaking of necks and cracking of bones, she finds herself face to face with one of her few fears. Orin the Red.

How could she fall for this again? Her head spins with the thought of all the things Orin may be doing to you. She knows you could hold your own, but Orin had a way of breaking the unbreakable.

Sometimes, with how loyally she followed you, it was easy to forget that Minthara was used to being the one in charge. A lot had changed since you met her as the Nightwarden.

But it all comes back quickly as she barks out orders to the now leaderless party. They were marching on the Temple of Bhaal, now. Minthara was prepared to take on the god of murder himself if it meant saving you.

As tempting as it was to charge straight into the temple, it left you all with little hope of survival. She decided the party’s presence near the temple would be enough to lure Orin out, leaving her an open opportunity to slip in.

Orin’s tactless blood thirst made the plan go over all too well. She couldn’t resist the smell of fresh unspilled blood at her doorstep.

By the time Minthara got to you, you were weak but still painfully conscious. You were hanging over an alter like a sacrifice by meat hooks that cleaved into your skin.

You had been tortured in true Bhaalist fashion. While your body displayed clear evidence of the slicing and cleaving, your mind was even more clouded by the things you had been forced to do and endure. It made you even more sympathetic to Minthara’s past.

Minthara climbed onto the unholy alter and began to remove you from the cruel hooks. She ignored your weak protestations, refusing to even look you in the eyes.

She resisted any urge to comfort you, pushing all the softness from her mind until the mission was complete and you were safe. She did not speak, fearing she may distract herself for the task at hand.

She only allowed for a brief moment when she picked you up and felt your throw your arms around her neck. You curled into her stomach with a choked sob and cried “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you better than to think you are foolish. Orin is cunning, persistent, and full of deceit. I do not fault you for what has happened.”

Escaping the temple was easier than getting in. She wordlessly worked her way back to the Elfsong with the ease of someone who wasn’t carrying a bloodied body.

She did what she could to heal you herself, given that none of the others had returned yet. A mildly concerning tidbit that seemed not to faze Minthara in the slightest.

It wasn’t until she was positive you would be okay that she allowed herself to soften, running her hands through your blood crusted hair and gently cleaning you with a dampened rag.

She paid little mind to the rest of the party, who returned looking a little worse for wear. She was disappointed but not surprised to hear that they had failed to kill Orin.

She recruited Jaheira to assist in your healing. She trusted her more than Shadowheart. She never let go of your hand, even when you squeezed so hard you thought you may have broken her fingers as Jaheira patched wounds with a variety of burning liquids.

She laid next to you on the bed, resting her head gently against your stomach and allowing you to stroke her head. She wasn’t bothered by the filth and blood that covers nearly every inch of you.

“We will make her pay for what she’s done to you. What she’s done to us. We will match every scar she’s inflicted tenfold until not even Bhaal with recognizes his own blood,” she swears, placing a gentle kiss on your stomach.

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galesdevoteewife · 5 months

Text

Gale may not be so typical squishy wizard/scholar?

-My Galeology study note-

Looking at his character sheet in the Deluxe pack gets me thinking, maybe our wizard is not exactly designed to be the typical squishy one...?

[Act2 spoiler warning]

2 things caught my eyes:

1) Great physical fitness, and good reflexes. (For your reference, Gale & Wyll are the two companions who have the highest Con: 15. I put everyone's sheets at the bottom of the post.)

His Con and Dex are... very high?? I mean, higher than Karlach and Lae'zel...????

Note 1: I suspect it could have something to do with his background as Mystra's chosen, as they are somewhat "transformed" when they agree to become the goddess's chosen. A topic for another day since I haven't quite figured it out yet, for anyone who is interested there's a chapter about it in The Seven Sisters. Also, I have little clues on how much chosen lore credit Larian was taking into account while designing him, or how Mystra's "taking back the given ability" works. Note 2: Again, Mystra's chosen are often sent on missions that involve a lot of traveling according to Elminster's series. Mystra also mentioned that Gale and she used to have adventures together, which leads to an assumption: despite his preference he might be traveling quite a lot until he was cast aside and quarantined himself in his tower. Might be the type of scholar who is very keen on field studies?

Note 3: Can someone undress Elminster to exam my theory please??xD Neh won't work I think all human might share same body model in game

Come to think of it, there was a party banter between Karlach & Gale that went like :

Karlach: Whoa! Almost slipped there. Gale: You wouldn't be the first, I'd wager. It's been some time since these walkways felt the carpenter's hammer. Karlach: You gonna catch me if I eat a brick? Gale: With my reflexes? I'd catch you before you so much as stubbed a toe.

At first I thought that was a sarcastic joke but, seems like it wasn't? Also this:

Karlach: Ready to enter the belly of the beast? Gale: It's the stairs I'm dreading. I shall close my eyes, and pretend I'm climbing my own, far superior tower in Waterdeep. Karlach: In that case, welcome home.

...So it seems when I pictured him as a homebody, I should reimagine the concept of home... His has...lots of stairs? Just walking around in the tower could be counted as a workout, sort of thing? Note: I don't think the place he shows in the Act 2 cutscene is his tower. Otherwise, aren't these neighbors pretty much doomed?

2) Not THAT smart. Well, I love him, so I will speak in his defence: [1] He has a warm(s) digging holes in his brain. [2] Poisonous magical bile running in his blood. Maybe he's just not at his best, makes sense, eh? Wyll mentioned he is nerfed after tadpole too. After all, this man obviously memorized a DICTIONARY:

Gale: You promised to stay in Waterdeep. 'Promise,' verb, meaning to swear something will or will not be done. Tara the Tressym: And I decided 'will not'. And a good thing, too. You look like you haven't had a good meal in days

Player: When I said we could be more than friends, you answered 'perhaps'. What does that really mean? Gale: If I recall correctly, the Waterdhavian Dictionary of the Common Tongue of Faerûn defines it as an adverb that conveys the meaning of 'it may be that', or 'possibly'. Gale: Sorry, sometimes I just can't help being quite insufferable. In seriousness, I'm glad you asked that question.

Along with a bunch of you-may-never-need information:

Everything about ceremorphosis? Myconid? Why in the world have him read about Cazador??? And how can he not know the distance between Waterdeep & Baldur's Gate, even Karlach ―who spent a decade, which is likely half of her life in hell― knows better geography than him. Gale either totally ignored the subject or portaled everywhere; distance meant nothing to him?? Uh, but you can't take party banters too seriously; it's buggy. How could a bug bit Karlach in the swamp? It should've been burned into ashes before it even reached her, no?

Anyway, just rambling some thoughts <3 I would have gone to Harvard if there was a major in Gale...

-DISCLAIMER- Brought to you by a brainrot wife, Galerian missionary. Be warned the article might has (strong) bias because the writer is braindead and she thinks Gale is the most awesome character in the world.

#baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 gale #ramblings #Galeology #bg3 datamine

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grandmother-goblin · 3 months

Text

Enough Time for Us - Part 1

AO3 - Masterlist

Summary: After surviving a daring rescue of several tieflings from Moonrise Towers, you realize just how short your time might be. Between the Absolute, the tadpoles, and the Shadow Curse, you don't want to waste a moment. Although Wyll had expressed his desires for an old-fashioned courtship, you're worried you won't be able to do everything you wanted with him before time runs out.

Relationships: Wyll x Female!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 4.3k

Chapter Tags: Kissing, thigh-riding, dry-humping, a bit of navigating a new relationship.

“You should have seen them, Alfira!” Lakrissa said far too loudly. She clumsily set her empty goblet of wine down on the table you shared with her, Alfira, and Wyll. “You’re going to have to write a song about this. Maybe two. I don’t think all of their heroics could fit into just one.”

The light from the glowing hearth in the middle of Last Light Inn gave Lakrissa a mischievous glint to her eyes that told you everything you needed to know: she was trying to embarrass you.

Oh, you would get her back for this. You weren’t sure how, but you would.

Sure, you rescued Lakrissa (along with several other tieflings and some Ironhand gnomes) from the bowels of Moonrise Towers — but she didn’t need to sing your praises to everyone who would listen.

At first you thought she was just being sweet, if not overly appreciative. But now? Now you knew she was just messing with you.

Or she was just repeating herself because she was drunk. It really could have been either, considering that most certainly was not her first glass of wine.

Without taking her eyes off of Alfira, Lakrissa gestured to you grandly, like she was showing off a prized work of art. “That one there took down the Warden herself,” she said with faux reverence. “Knocked her right on her ass.”

You shook your head as heat rose to your face.

Even though Lakrissa was just having fun, you wished she would knock it off. Or at the very least, turn her attention to someone who was equally responsible for her rescue. Like Karlach, who was chatting away with Jaheira over a mug of ale alongside Lae’zel and Astarion. Or Gale, who also played a crucial role in the escape plan, was sitting at the bar with Rolan, Cal, and Lia — presumably thrilled to have a fellow wizard to converse with.

Perhaps she could gush about Wyll’s part in the Moonrise jailbreak. Out of everyone, he was the most accustomed to receiving all sorts of praise as the Blade of Frontiers.

But for better or for worse, Lakrissa’s attention was locked on to you. There wasn’t much you could do about it, so you decided it was easiest just to indulge her. At least a little bit.

Wyll’s slid closer to you on the bench you shared and wrapped his arm around your waist. “I’m sad that I missed that one,” he said, gently tucking you against his side. “After the way the Warden spoke to you, I wanted to get a few hits in myself.”

You hummed appreciatively, breathing in the scent of his cologne. It was something like amber and allspice, and so uniquely him that the smell alone filled you with warmth. “I still can’t believe you called her a bitch.”

Lakrissa choked down a mouthful of wine. “The Blade of Frontiers called the Warden a bitch?”

“Not to her face,” Wyll quickly corrected, holding his palm up as if to block the accusation. “Not that I wouldn’t have.”

“She still heard you,” you added.

Wyll took a drink from his mug of ale and innocently averted his gaze. “I fail to see how that’s my problem.”

A giggle bubbled in your chest, but you swallowed it down with a smile. You snuggled closer to Wyll, letting your hand rest just above his knee as you leaned your head against his shoulder.

It had been over a week since you two had officially become a couple, yet could still hardly believe it.

Wyll Ravengard, the Blade of Frontiers, the son of a Grand Duke — all yours.

You had first kissed him at a party the tiefling refugees had thrown a few weeks ago. You would never forget the electricity that sparked between you the moment his lips brushed against yours. How your heart hammered in your chest or how his hands felt on your hips.

How you never wanted that moment to end.

But Wyll was a gentleman.

He kept things chaste despite how you had wanted to throw yourself at him like a heroine on the cover of a romantic novel.

Then there was the night he had asked you to dance with him. Everything had been so proper between you two in the time between your kiss and that night that his invitation honestly caught you off guard. You weren’t even quite sure what he was wanting out of the dance — just some friendly fun or something more?

But his intentions were made clear soon enough.

You could see the lust burning in his eye as you circled around each other. It was so intense, you could have melted under his gaze if he weren’t holding you steady.

When he pulled you in for a kiss, that heat turned from simmering embers to an inferno. A fire that burnt through Wyll’s restraint, turning his kisses from sweet to passionate and his touch from a gentle caress to a firm embrace.

Heat built in your core when his thigh had pushed between your legs. The subtle, almost imperceptible, roll of his hips and his hands tangling in your hair was enough to drive you mad.

He wanted you. You knew, at that very moment, he wanted more than just a dance and a goodnight kiss.

Yet, he still pulled away, smothering the flame.

All he had to do was say the word, and you would have been in his bed that night. He knew that just as well as you did. But he wanted to take things slower.

He wanted to court you properly. Like heroes in those old love stories with ballroom dances and flowers and poetry.

In ordinary circumstances, you would have let him take all the time in the world.

Good men like Wyll were extraordinarily hard to come by. Hells, you had been dreaming of a man like Wyll for years. A man who wanted you for you — not someone who just wanted a roll in the hay.

But your circumstances were far from ordinary.

Beneath the table, well out of view from the two tiefling women across from you, you let your hand coast further up Wyll’s thigh. Just a little bit too high to be considered decent, but not so much that you risked touching him anywhere truly inappropriate for a public setting.

If Wyll had any objections, he didn’t voice them.

In fact, you swore you saw a smirk tug on his lips.

Wyll’s hand slipped beneath the bottom hem of your shirt, the movement smooth as silk. His thumb drew slow, tantalizing circles on your hip as he continued to chat with Lakrissa and Alfira.

Gods, it almost felt unfair. He could turn you into a pile of mush with just a sweet word and simple touch. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought he was teasing you. Tempting you with all the little touches, but never going further.

You wanted him so badly, but you didn’t want to pressure him. He wanted the fairytale romance — he wanted to wait for the perfect moment and for everything to be just right.

But you couldn’t help but worry: what if that moment never came?

What if tomorrow was the day one of you fell to the Shadow Curse? Or to the Absolute? What if the Artefact’s protection wore out or if Vlaakith’s warriors found you?

What if you and Wyll never had that chance with the each other?

Maybe it was selfish, but you wanted to be more intimate with him. Gods, you dreamed of it. There were nights when you and Wyll would share a bedroll, sleeping in one another’s arms and fully clothed, and you ached for something more.

You just weren’t sure how to broach the topic with him. Not since he expressed his own desires regarding your relationship. A fairytale romance, like those told by the bards.

You wished he had been a little more specific about what his desires entailed, if you were being completely honest.

“Have we already finished another bottle?” Alfira’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as she picked up the empty bottle of wine from your side of the table. “Should we get another, or call it night?”

Without waiting for an answer, Lakrissa stood up and placed both hands on the table as she peered over Wyll’s horns. “Hey Mirkon,” she called toward the bar in the back of the room. “I’ll give you five silver to bring us another bottle of red.”

The small tiefling boy popped his head up over the lip of the countertop. “Just gave out the last bottle of red — gotta go to the cellar to get more. We got whiskey though!”

Lakrissa’s eyes lit up at the mention of whiskey. “Bring the bottle of whiskey then.”

“The whole bottle?” Mirkon squeaked.

“Lakrissa,” Alfira warned. “Remember what happened last time you mixed whiskey and wine.”

“I remember I had fun,” she replied and gestured for Mirkon to bring the bottle over. “Don’t need to remember much else.”

You shook your head, but you couldn’t help but smile. Lakrissa might be in for a nasty hangover the next morning, but if anyone deserved a couple of drinks, she did. Especially after everything they went through getting out of Moonrise.

“I’m going to bring another crate up before the whole place decides to switch to hard liquor,” you said, giving Wyll’s leg an affectionate squeeze before you got to your feet.

The crates were too large for the kids to carry safely, but you could manage. Besides, it made for a good opportunity to get a breath of fresh air. The longer you sat cuddled up next to Wyll, the greater the temptation to get even closer to him was. Considering “closer” probably meant fighting the temptation to crawl into his lap and straddle him, it was probably for the best to detangle yourself before that happened.

If you didn’t control yourself, you knew you’d be regretting it later when it came time to sleep. You’d be faced with the impossible decision of sleeping in Wyll’s arms or getting some alone time in your tent to deal with your self-inflicted sexual frustration.

Yep, a bit of space was just what you needed.

Before you could get a step away from the table, Wyll said, “I’ll come with you.”

Well, so much for that idea.

Wyll swung his legs around the side of the bench and stood beside you, slipping his arm around you once again. “Two pairs of hands are better than one, and besides — ” he leaned down, his breath warm against your ear, and whispered “ — it looks like Alfira wants a little one-on-one time with Lakrissa.”

“What was that, Mr. Blade of Frontiers?” Lakrissa asked cheekily, cupping her hand to her ear for emphasis. “You best share with the group.”

Wyll laughed and replied, “The only thing I’m sharing is another drink once we get back. I’ll look for another bottle of Esmalter Red while I’m down there.”

Lakrissa tapped her chin in mock consideration as she sat back in her seat. “I’ll accept that as a compromise, I suppose.”

“We’ll be back in a minute,” you said and started toward the front door.

As the chatter and the music faded behind you, Wyll’s hand moved from your waist to your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. When you glanced up at him, he was already smiling down at you with so much love in his gaze that made your heart pick up speed.

Gods, you loved him so much. Even if the romantic aspect of your relationship was relatively new, you knew you wanted to be at Wyll’s side for as long as he would have you. And you hadn’t felt that way about anyone else before.

There was something so special, so incredible, about him that you could hardly put it into words. In so many ways, Wyll was everything you had ever wanted — you wanted to experience the world with him but you didn’t know if that same world would give you time.

Wyll brought your hand to his lips and kissed the back of your knuckles. “This hand,” he said with a teasing grin, “was getting a bit adventurous under the table there.”

Pushing aside your thoughts, you blinked up at him innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No?” He pressed another kiss to your hand as you reached the top of the stairs at the side of the building. Without letting go of your hand, he had smoothly positioned you to the side with the railing. “Must have just been my imagination. It has been a little overactive in that regard, as of late.”

“Oh? What sorts of things have you been imagining, Wyll?” you replied knowing full well that he would be far too much of a gentleman to answer if his thoughts aligned with your own.

“You’ll find out,” he said as he helped you down the last step (although you didn’t need the help, the gesture was appreciated). “Just give it time.”

Time.

The one thing that seemed to be running out.

In the space beneath the building, the sounds of water lapping gently against docks echoed off the stone walls. Just a few hours ago, this was the location of a joyous reunion for many — people seeing loved ones they had thought lost over something completely out of their control. If not for the feeling of Wyll’s hand in yours, the whole place felt cold and yawningly empty.

Looking out over the river, you could see that thin border of light that separated you, and the people you cared about, from the Shadow Curse. It was like a singular pillar that held up an entire roof. Without it, everything would come crashing down — no matter how many other support beams were in place.

It all felt so fragile. All it would take is one thing going wrong and… you’d all be lost to the darkness.

Gods, any moment really could be the last, couldn’t it?

Your hand tightened around Wyll’s, as if you could squeeze out a little more hypothetical time with him. That’s all you wanted. Just some time for the two of you to be together without the looming fear of death.

Was that so much to ask?

“Are you feeling alright?” Wyll asked as he opened the door leading down into the cellar and gestured for you to go ahead of him. “You’ve got a bit of a far off look to you.”

There really wasn’t any point in lying to him or in pretending things were fine. Wyll was much better at reading you than most people, which was both a blessing and a curse. He always seemed to know just what you needed, but it also meant you could hardly keep anything from him. While he would never pressure you to talk if you didn’t want to, you didn’t like to leave him in the dark.

You took a few steps down the stairs, staring at the way your hand slid along the railing rather than look at the man above you. You could see his shadow against the wall beside you, the subtle tilt of his head and the curl of his horns. An ominous silhouette to most, but a source of comfort to you.

“I’ve just been thinking a bit about what you said a few nights ago,” you answered, your heart beating in your throat as you slowly continued your descent. “About our relationship, and how you want things to go.”

Behind you, you heard the door gently close against the frame followed by the click of a lock. The stairs creaked under his boots as he took the wooden stairs two steps at a time until he was at your side once more. “This sounds serious.”

You laughed, hoping to ease some of the tension. “It’s nothing serious,” you reassured him. “But it’s still something I wanted to bring up with you.”

“Of course.” There was a hint of nervousness to his voice, but he tried to mask it behind his charming, prince-like smile that could make most people swoon. “I’m always happy to talk.”

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, you shuffled around to face him. The glow from a dim fireplace, one that hadn’t been tended to for a while now, glinted off of Wyll’s scarlet red eye as he gazed at you with a mixture of affection and concern.

Though the cellar was warm, you wrapped your arms around yourself as if there was a chill in the air, trying to muster up some courage.

Gods, did you even have to bring this up? You didn’t, right? But he was looking at you expectantly and the longer you waited, the worse your anxiety got and —

“I don’t want to wait,” you blurted out before you could talk yourself out of it.

Wyll’s brow drew together. “Wait for what?”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, looking past him rather than directly into his eye. “To be close to you,” you said, feeling heat rising to your cheeks. “To be intimate. We don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow and I — I want to share that experience with you.”

There. It was out in the open and there was no taking it back. The worst that could happen was that he would turn you down again, right?

For a moment, there was nothing but stale cellar air and the sounds of the crackling fireplace between you two. You could hear footsteps from the taproom overhead counting out the beats of silence.

You swallowed. Gods, why did you have to say anything at all? He was giving you everything you wanted, yet you still wanted more?

Then a soft smile tugged at the corner of Wyll’s lip and a sense of relief coursed through you. The back of his fingers brushed against your cheek in a featherlight touch before he tucked his thumb beneath your chin. He tilted your face up, making it impossible for you to look anywhere but at his gorgeous, mismatched, eyes.

“I want to share that experience with you too,” he said, resting one hand on your hip as he took a single step closer. “Though, I’m of the mind that we will have plenty of time, and plenty of chances, to have that experience.”

Disappointment landed light a heavy weight in your gut, and you averted your gaze.

Well, it was worth a try.

It wasn’t like you could force Wyll to change his stance on such a thing. And it would have been wrong of you to do anything more than simply express your desires.

Still, it didn’t make the disappointment any easier.

“I hope you’re right,” you conceded with a hopeful long convincing smile, not wanting to put any pressure on him.

Wyll sighed and touched his forehead to yours. His horns were cool and hard against your skin and you closed your eyes, just breathing in his scent.

“I still believe in the old tales of love,” he said as his hand moved to your lower back. “And I want to give you the fairytale because that’s what you deserve. But that doesn’t mean we can’t make it our own.”

You blinked and pulled back just far enough to look Wyll in the eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

A rakish grin spread across his face, sending butterflies to your stomach in a flurry. “I’m saying that if you want to be more intimate” — his hand slipped beneath your shirt, his palm warm against the small of your back — “then we can be more intimate.”

Your heart leapt in your chest as a mixture of surprise and giddiness surged through you. Out of all the things you expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

At least, you didn’t expect him to agree so readily.

Swallowing your excitement, you laced your fingers with his. You didn’t want to pressure him, and you didn’t think you were, but you still wanted to check….

“You’re sure?” you asked and pressed your lips to the back of his hand. “I know you have reasons for wanting to wait, and I don’t want you to change your mind just because — ”

A little huff of laughter passed Wyll’s lips. “I’m sure,” he confirmed. “This is our relationship — we make these sorts of decisions together. I’d much rather you talk to me about things like this rather than just quietly go along with what I said.”

He brought his palm to your cheek, carefully cupping your face as if you were something precious. “Besides,” he added, “I’ll admit that part of me was hoping you’d ask me to change my mind.”

Before you could even think of how to respond, Wyll’s lips brushed over yours in a sweet, silky caress. Light and teasing, if not a little playful at first. Taking his sweet time tasting you. The hand on your cheek slipped behind your head, tangling in your hair as he slowly deepened the kiss.

You couldn’t help the soft moan in your throat as he pulled you flush against him. He coaxed your lips apart with his tongue, sending a thrill of warmth through you with each delicate stroke. Looping your arms around his neck, you held yourself steady as you melted into his touch.

Gods, when he kissed you like this, how could you not want more? How could you be expected to keep your desires in check when his lips were as sinful as they were saccharine?

Wyll guided you backward until your back pressed against the cool stone wall of the stairwell, not once breaking his lips away from yours. He cupped your face, tilting your head back as he kissed you as if he could breathe you in.

A muscular thigh nudged between your legs, putting delicious pressure where you had long desired it. Heat rose to your face as you rolled your hips, slowly and subtly rocking against him.

Moving his hands to your hips, he pressed himself against you as he guided your movements on his leg to match his. The rhythm alone was enough to make your core clench with need. His parted lips dragged down the side of your neck as he let you grind against him. You let out a small, pleasured, gasp when he gently sucked and nipped at your skin.

Gods, he had barely begun to touch you and you were already trembling. Your body craved him like no other, and you had contented yourself with fantasies for so long. For him to actually be touching you like this? To be pulling closer instead of pulling back?

It was indescribable.

You brought your lips to his neck, stifling a moan as you kissed the prominent ridges on his throat. His fingers dug into your hips a groan rumbled in his chest. “Those are sensitive,” he said and nibbled at your earlobe.

You sighed as you closed your eyes. “Sensitive how?” you asked distractedly.

Wyll raised his hips, pressing himself against you and fully pinning you to the wall. The hard outline of him prodded your lower stomach. “That kind of sensitive.”

Your cheeks burned as his mouth hungrily returned to yours. No one had ever kissed you the way Wyll did. It was reckless and restrained, passionate and patient. And you wanted nothing more than for that patience and restraint to run out.

At least, just for a little bit.

Tension coiled inside of you as you grinded against him, winding tighter and tighter as he rocked into you. You were so close. Gods, you hadn’t even taken your clothes off and you were going to come.

“Wyll,” you whined against his lips, not knowing quite what you wanted. Did you want him to stop you? Or did you want —

“Come for me,” Wyll rasped, his voice unlike you had ever heard it before. His grasping fingers slid over the curve of your breast as he took your mouth in another consuming kiss.

Your nails dug into his shirt as your movements grew rougher and more erratic. Your breath came in panting gasps as pressure built deep in your core.

Every muscle in your body tightened. Your mouth fell open as you found your release. Your hips moved of their own accord but Wyll’s hands kept you steady as pleasure wracked your body.

“That’s it,” he soothed as you rode out your climax, his voice husky in a way that made your skin prickle.

He removed his leg from between your thighs just as you began to catch your breath. With his hands still on your hips, he kissed the corner of your mouth and then your cheek, his breathing almost as heavy as your own.

“Tomorrow night,” Wyll said softly as pulled away. His eyes locked onto yours, his good eye dark with barely restrained lust. His hands traced your curves and you could practically see the gears turning in his head.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.“Give me until tomorrow night, my love,” he said resolutely. “I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

With that tiny bit of distance between you, you could see a prominent, hard ridge in his trousers. You must have been staring, because Wyll chuckled and cleared his throat, quickly adjusting himself to hide his erection. Well, as much as he could.

You swallowed and licked your lips. “Do you — ”

He smiled at you broadly as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “By the time we pack up these crates, I’ll be all settled down.”

Oh, right. The wine. Lakrissa and Alfira were waiting for them.

But still….

You hooked two fingers around his belt loop and stepped closer. “But what if I want to?”

Wyll cupped your face in his hands and pressed his mouth to yours, chaste and sweet. “Then you’ll have to wait until tomorrow night.”

---

Author's Note: This was meant to be like a 2k word oneshot and it turned into a whole thing. I'm still relatively new to writing in second person POV, so I'm sorry for any mistakes!

#wyll ravengard #x reader #wyll #wyll x reader #wyll smut #wyll fanfic

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alicelufenia · 4 months

Text

Testing new ways to recruit Minthara in Patch 6 - Part 1 (KO at the grove battle)

First of what may become a series of attempts to find new ways to recruit Minthara on the good playthrough.

Now according to the patch notes:

It's unclear what they mean by "number of valid methods". So far the ONLY valid methods to recruit Minthara are siding with the Goblins (ie the best method) or to knock her out while temporarily hostile. I go on all about it in this post.

So to start I wanted to see if the number of cases where she becomes temporarily hostile have been expanded. And the first method I wanted to test is possibly the coolest way to knock her out; by fighting her and the goblin horde at the grove! I don't need to show any screenshots of that, suffice to say, she was marked fully hostile by the game, and her knocked out status was NOT temporary (ie., said this entity would disappear permanently after a long rest)

So I played the rest out as you normally would; long resting to go to the tiefling party, then heading to the mountain pass, past the undead patrol, into the shadow-cursed lands, summoned Kar'niss, turned on him at the Harpers, yada yada Last Light Inn yada yada Isobel and Marcus.

So I arrive at Moonrise, and while expecting nothing, who do I see?

THERE SHE IS! And wearing her camp clothing cause I stole her armor again lmao (and she didn't wear the blazer of benevolence I reverse-looted into her inventory, cause she'd rather be in her PJs in front of her boss than anything from Volo. Honestly understandable.)

The cutscene plays out normally, but after going down into the prison, freeing her mind and fighting her interrogators

She just... breaks. No dialogue, not interactable, doesn't follow me, nothing. Killing the other guards outside doesn't do anything.

At first I was ready to call this whole attempt bugged (which don't get me wrong, this IS a bug)

But I thought, what if I have her play along (I never did that in my own playthrough) So I reload, and trick the guards instead.

SUCCESS! She's a follower npc now!

We deceive our way out of Moonrise, send her back to camp

Also, incredibly funny that both Astarion and Karlach approve, when Astarion is the only one who voices major objections, and earlier Karlach had this to say at camp before we headed into the prison

I guess seeing her tortured and grateful for being freed warmed Karlach's heart to her. Awww :3

Ladies and gentlemen, we got her

It's not completely without bugs. Karlach and Wyll both didn't have anything to say about Minthara's recruitment, but that might have been because I hadn't exhausted their reactive dialogue beforehand, as they both had things to say about prior events. Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Astarion and Gale (y'know the regular durge squad) all had their normal reactions.

Also Halsin isn't there cause he's currently at Last Light hanging out with Art. I hadn't even found Thaniel yet. Although I don't anticipate any interactions with those two, as the ultimatum dialogue is still inaccessible, and even if it was, involves an absolutely convoluted way to get both Halsin and Minthara that will almost never happen anyway.

Final Verdict: Recruiting Minthara by KOing her while defending the grove - WORKS!

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate iii #bg3 minthara #minthara #minthara baenre #minthara bg3 #nightwarden minthara #minthara good playthrough recruitment #EXTREMELY happy this method now works #I will test later to see if knocking her out at the goblin camp while fully hostile works the same #all in all I'm a bit surprised as this is a blatant exception to the way lethality and the knock out condition works for everything else #but if it means more people can have Minthy I'm all for it!

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sorcerous-caress · 7 months

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How do you think the party would react if Tav was a Fallen Aasimar? I sure it hinges on the God's aliment. What if it was a God they worship?

Reacting to a fallen aasimar Tav

[Bg3, fluff, nb!reader]

[Shadowheart, Wyll, Karlach, Halsin, Astarion, Gale, Minthara, Laezel]

You used to serve a god they worship/worshipped. I took some liberties with the godless characters.

Shadowheart - Selune

Assuming it happens either after the game ends or in an alternative universe where Shadowheart never abandoned Selune. Then she'd be very conflicted.

What could you have possibly done to have the most gentle of goddesses stripping your wings? Moonlight melting your silvery feathers until they're nothing but abyssal black and ash.

Her lady is wise, therefore she will be very wary of you. Yet at the same time, she can't help but feel a sense of familiarity when she looks at you. It drives away her prejudice for a moment and lets her judge you for your action, no matter how blasphemous the act of questioning her goddess's judgment might be.

Wyll - Tyr

To fall from celeste is to become a fiend. How are you any better than the devils below in the hells?

If he was his younger self, he wouldn't have hesitated to deliver you to justice, and yet the horns on his own head weight heavy like a crown paid for in a lifetime of experience. He knows better than anyone that nothing is ever what it seems like.

This Wyll is wiser, more understanding and open. He's willing to extend the same courtesy to you that he wished someone would've done to him before.

Let him hear you out, friend. Tell him what befelled this fate upon you.

Karlach - Tymora

She is more confused about how you managed to anger the smiling lady herself. It takes a special kind of asshole to turn their back on good fortune and lady luck.

An aasimar at that too? A messenger of luck?

She's never been big on the whole religion thing, to be honest with you, yet the wamrth and good fortune her goddess extended to her is still one of the best gifts she has ever been given.

So what happened? How did this even happen?

She'd never be hostile towards you nor exlude you as long as you don't do anything sinister. She genuinely belives in sharing her good fortune with everyone no matter who.

Halsin - Silvanus

Oak father preserve him. To Halsin, seeing you brings as much joy to him as seeing the shadow curse spread.

His God's teachings aren't that hard to follow, just respect the natural order and preserve all living beings. He has been diligently upholding this code through his life and spreading the teachings back at the grove.

Yet, the oak father himself marked you as an endangerment to the very being of nature. To the ancient trees and sprouting spring flowers, you reprsent the slithering all-consuming wither and rot.

He is very uncomfortable around you, not just on his guard, but you can see that he would rather be anywhere else than near you. Yet, feels like he had to keep an eye on you just in case you burn down a forest or something behind his back.

Astarion - Corellon

Honestly, he doesn't even remember worshipping the old elf or anything. He just assumes it given his previous stature and ancestry.

Not that the self-proclaimed protector of all elves has ever given him a single second of his time since he became an undead. No matter how much he prayed, it seems that the blood running through his veins barely counted anymore when it wasn't his own blood to begin with.

Fuck him, along all the other gods who turned their back on him for 200 hundred years of pure shit. It's a good thing you fell, he tells you, at least now your powers are yours alone. What's a god if not just another master to get you to do their biddings?

He is interested in you, mostly in your powers, to be more precise.

But it also encourages you to seek your own path and never think of grovelling for forgiveness or your feathers back.

Gale - Mystra

He makes a lame ass joke about if that makes him your stepfather. Dad puns included.

Surprisingly, he doesn't make a big deal out of it, even if it was before he fully got over his ex.

He's a scholar first and a lover second. He is genuinely very interested in learning about you and aasimars. Meeting one in a lifetime is a miracle. They're so rare that they're barely documented even. So imagine meeting a fallen one? He is beyond intrigued by you and your nature.

Sure, your morality might come into question, but he will worry about that later. For now, he is more interested in inspecting your wings and asking borderline intrusive questions about how serving Mystra was like.

Evil alligned deities.

Aasimars don't have many rules about them in dnd, but for one, they are classified as celestial beings. So technically, they can't ever serve evil alligned gods. It's never officially stated, tho so it is up to interpretation.

Devils or fiends serve the evil deities instead, so i thought why not make the reason the aasmire fell is because they decided to serve the evil god for the character.

In the next headcanons, falling is considered a good thing. Whoever your previous good god was that you used to serve, you abandoned them and went to serve an evil deity instead which is why you fell.

Laezel - Vlaakith

A good choice, a wise choice even. Laezel might not be versed much in the gods pantheon but she is sure whoever your old deity was, they couldn't have compared to her queen.

You have her respect, the same respect she'd extend to a kitherak even. In her eyes, you're the embodiment of the red dragon and rider knight both in one. Your wings and shinning blade speak for themselves.

She is honoured, fascinated too. Yet her admiration is a double edged sword, for she will hold you to impossible standards and consider it meeting the bare minimum.

Minthara - Lolth

She almost pities you, willingly becoming another pawn in this endless chessboard of drow conflict. Another gem to decorate Lolth's whip with as she inflicts it on whoever she sees fit.

Either you're foolishly naive or a complete masochist to dedicate yourself to the spider queen. Either way, she will test you herself to see exactly what you're made of.

As someone who abandoned Lolth, she'd be wary of anyone who serves her goddess. Yet you haven't cut off her head yet, how strange?

Minthara doesn't hide her disdain for Lolth around you, both warning you of the cruel fate awaiting you no matter how much of a good pet you're to your goddess.

For the longer you stay loyal to Lolth, the more of an endangerment you become to Minthara herself.

Shadowheart - Shar

Another child of the darkness, another sibling of the night to guide her through this journey. Shadowheart thinks your meeting was fate, a reward from her dark lady.

Especially if you saved her from the ship, she'd see you as her hero, a shining black diamond amonst the rubble and mud.

Mirroring how Laezel would've acted in fact, their dangerous fickle admiration of you that you never asked for would force a magnifying glass over both your flaws while exaggerating your achievements.

She doesn't hide her Shar worship from you this time around. She is proud, especially by you by her side. She will be your shield and recovery as long as you be her sword and wings.

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stars-and-inkpots · 8 months

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could you possibly do one where Tav is on the verge on burnout in Baldur's Gate, from carrying the litteral weight of the world on her shoulders, plus the murders, dismembered clown, emperor chattering away in her mind and just tryingto help every soul in the city... oh, and everyone looking to her for guidance in making difficult life decisions... possibly after advising Wyll not to take the pact and/or one of their companions being abducted

And Gale being there to help her and lift her spirits up (maybe a little guilty about being too wrapped up in his hubris before having a forgiving audience with Mystra to notice how hard it all was on her)

I loved this idea so much because Act 3 really is just so overwhelming and stressful I was excited to write something about it! Thank you!! I hope you enjoy!

The Weight of The World | Gale x Reader

There is so much you have to do. So many things you have to fix and people you have to save. It's starting to become overwhelming carrying so much alone.

Pairing: Gale/Reader

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Blood and injury, panic attacks (kinda), hurt/comfort, comfort, angst, cuddling, spoilers for Act 3

Ao3 Link: The Weight of The World

Word Count: 1,799

You like helping people. If there is a way you can make someone else’s life easier, you are both eager and happy to do it. It’s in your nature to give.

But you’re wearing yourself thin.

It seems that ever since you got off that nautiloid, you’ve been helping people. First, it was the tieflings in the Grove; then the Shadow-Cursed lands; then the refugees on the way to Baldur’s Gate. And along with all of those problems, you’ve also been helping your companions with their own; some with higher stakes than others.

Wyll is quiet today, and when you notice the look on his face, guilt quickly settles in beside the exhaustion that rests on your shoulders.

He is free now, but it has come at such a steep price. You were there with him when Mizora appeared to offer him the deal. He had asked you for advice. You told him that he deserved a chance to be free from the infernal chess board he had been forced to play on for so long.

But what if you were wrong? What if you don’t find a way to save his father? What if Baldur’s Gate is worse off without the duke once everything is done and over with and the dust has settled. What if Wyll ends up blaming you for the death of Ravengard, resenting your decision that was his own to make.

You’re happy to help… happy to give counsel to your companions when they (so often, it seems) need it, but why should you be the one making the decisions for such things? How can you be expected to decide between Wyll’s freedom and his father’s life?

You haven’t even begun to prepare for what could lie beyond the walls of Cazador’s palace, but you’re certain it can be nothing short of dreadful.

Shaking your head, you try to focus on the task at hand. You have potential murder victims you need to find.

More people that need saving.

---

Finding the Stormshore Tabernacle after Elminster arrived to tell Gale that Mystra had yet another message for him was only another goal added on the growing list of things you needed to do. This, of course, took a little priority, given how much you could tell it mattered to Gale.

You brush off the growing exhaustion that hasn’t had a chance to fully dissipate in the wake of so many new problems.

You stand in front of the statue of Mystra, Gale beside you while the others wait outside. You can feel the magic that flows around it, crackling and humming like an electric current. It is not a feeling that brings you comfort or a sense of calm that one might expect from a god; perhaps that is mainly because of your own opinions of the goddess though. While he does a good job at hiding it, you can tell that Gale’s nerves are beginning to get the better of him. You bring your hand to rest it on his shoulder.

“Time was I’d have given my right arm for a chance to speak with Mystra again. The left one too. Maybe a knee…” he says quietly, and as much as you want to believe he is exaggerating, you know there is an air of truth to his words.

“You know you don’t owe her anything, Gale.” You hope he knows that. It’s impossible for you to understand the nuances of their relationship, and you recognise that, but you know that what she had asked of him was cruel and manipulative.

“Perhaps,” he answers. Then adds, “Her first love was always the weave. At best, I was always a close second.”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to justify Her actions to you, or simply giving himself a reason for them that hurts less than the idea that she did not truly care for him like he did for Her.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Despite your personal distaste for the goddess, you would accompany him in an instant if it was what he desired.

“As much as I’d prefer not to face her alone, I’m afraid the magic is only able to bring one person through. I’ll only be gone a minute though. Wait for me, please.” His voice shakes only slightly. You would wait for him even if he didn’t ask.

When he turns to face the statue again, he moves his hand like he’s grasping at something in the air. Then just as quickly, he is gone.

You wait there anxiously. You wonder if you should have told him not to come here. It was entirely possible that Mystra only asked him to come here so that she could punish him for not following her orders to blow up both himself and the Absolute. It would be another lapse of judgement that would impact only your companion.

The stress of the week is steadily catching up to you again, pushing itself into the forefront of your mind while you wait for Gale to return. Thankfully, he doesn’t take long.

Gale reappears in a small flash of shimmering purples. He is smiling, which you assume is a good thing in spite of the general unease the thought of him speaking with the goddess brings.

He recounts the visit with you while the two of you find the rest of your party outside.

---

No one says anything when you go straight to your tent after you return to camp, Gale letting go of your hand to give you a moment to yourself.

Lae’zel is gone, taken by Orin, and being held ransom in the Temple of Bhaal. The memory of the encounter makes you sick to your stomach.

Lae’zel rounding the corner, bloodied and limping, clutching her side while blood pours out in thick rivulets. Your heart beating so fast that you worry it will stop entirely. Grasping her arm to pull her with you, refusing to leave her behind. The feeling of her flesh shifting under your palm, moving, undulating in that unnatural and revolting way you had come to recognize in the shapechangers you had encountered. You recoiled backwards into Gale, watching in horror as Lae’zel’s form shifted; her neck snapping to the side sharply. Her green skin fading to pale grey. It was never Lae’zel at all, but Orin.

She cornered you into making a deal with her. You were to return with Gortash’s netherstone, or Lae’zel would be left to bleed out on the temple floor.

You can imagine Lae’zel’s voice, condemning you for giving in to the Bhaalspawn’s orders. But you know Lae’zel. You know that she is not as unshakeable as she likes to present herself. You know that, wherever she is right now, she is scared.

You can barely think. Everything feels blurry, the world fraying at the edges of your vision dissolving into a mess of colour and sound.

You should have noticed. Gortash had warned you.

You still have so much you need to do.

How did you let this happen?

---

Gale waits a few minutes before he follows you to your tent. He waits nervously outside, unsure.

“Can I come in?” He asks softly.

“Please,” you answer, and his heart breaks at the roughness of your voice; no doubt from crying and struggling to keep the sobs quiet enough that the rest of the camp wouldn’t hear them.

Your eyes are tired, fresh tears still flowing freely down your face.

Gale is terrified too, just like you and so many of the others, but something else weighs heavy on his chest. Guilt, he quickly realises as he looks at you.

You’ve been dealing with so much, and so much of it alone. You’ve taken their problems and made them your own; you’ve done everything for them. You’ve bore their worries, their concerns, and their mistakes. You’ve had no one to do the same for you.

“Gale-” you start, but a sob bubbles out of you cutting you off as your shoulders shake.

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispers into your hair after he quickly gathers you into his arms as he sits beside you. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you like he’s protecting you from the world itself.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise through hiccups against his chest. He only gently shushes you, carding his fingers through your hair.

“If there is any apologising to be done, it is us to you. You’ve been doing so much for us; carrying our burdens and helping with them. I will admit even I have been far too preoccupied with my own mess that I failed to consider the weight that we’ve put on you.”

“I should be able to bear it,” you say mournfully.

“Absolutely not,” Gale objects. “It’s impossible to do that alone. You are only one person. You are not weak because you failed to carry the weight of the world alone.” He sounds so certain, so genuine in everything he says that you know he isn’t merely saying this to comfort you. “Even if you struggled with even the simplest problem, it would be no slight on your abilities.” His words, as reassuring and comforting as they are, bring on yet another wave of tears. He rubs his hands soothingly along your back.

“You are not weak because of this,” Gale assures you once you’ve mostly stopped crying.

“Thank you,” you answer after a while. “Thank you.”

The two of you sit there together. The steady rise and fall of his chest while you lean against him helps calm your racing heart. Gale hums softly, and you relax in his arms.

“Everything is going to be alright. We’ll do this together,” Gale says, with a finality that leaves no room for disagreement.

You nod, too exhausted in both body and mind to bother with speech for now. You reach blindly for one of Gale’s hands, holding it tightly and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. You feel him return a kiss of his own to the top of your head. You don’t need to use your words to explain your gratitude for his presence in your life. He understands you all the same. Your love may go unspoken, but never unheard.

You let yourself relax. The weight of the world may be both figuratively and literally on your shoulders, but your companions can help you hold it.

Yes, you think to yourself as Gale moves you both to lay down on the bedroll, everything will be alright. It will be difficult, but you will be fine. And at least, in his arms, you can pretend that everything will be fine for now. You have to hold onto the hope that everything will be fine.

#gale x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate x reader #x reader fic #gale dekarios #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate gale #gale x you

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spookyjuicefiction · 7 months

Text

Violets & Plums: Astarion/Tav, Part 1

Got an idea for an Astarion fic that I just need to start working through and here is as good a place as any. Part 1 of ?

_______________________________________

He had been wrong about her. And he hated being wrong.

He had seen her on the nautiloid, stuffed into a pod and infected with a tadpole just as he had been. He recognized her when he spotted her trudging up the path toward him away from the crash site. He himself had just clawed his way out of the wreckage and was getting his bearings when she and the she-elf emerged from the smoke. An easy target, he thought, quickly preparing a ruse to trap her. She fell right into it, and he was ready to kill her - that is, until their parasites connected.

When he agreed to team up with her and Shadowheart, it was because he planned to use them as human shields should he meet any attackers. Sure, they had the common goal of finding a healer to remove the parasite, but they certainly had no value as serious allies as far as he could tell. Even only being a vampire spawn, they were slow and weak compared to him. Not to mention stupid. He was the obvious choice to lead the pack.

Then why was it that he was standing at the edge of the campsite alone, scowling to himself as the rest of his merry band of companions passed around a bottle of wine and enjoyed each others' company? And why was she the one in the middle, with every adoring eye on her?

Yes, he had certainly underestimated her. Within hours she had every one of them wrapped around her magical fingers, and within a few days they had all deferred to her as their de-facto leader when decisions needed to be made. She seemed to have a gift for reading people, knowing exactly how to charm and persuade them. Her skills of deception even rivaled his own, though he was loathe to admit to his admiration of them.

His pointed ear pricked toward the campfire as new sounds arose; she - Tav - had started plucking a tune on her lute and leading the group in song. He rolled his eyes. Of course she sings, too. How irritating.

It was truly annoying how easily she gained the others' favors. Wasn't he supposed to be the one so well-versed in flattery and charisma? Yet she deigned to engage with them in ways that made his skin crawl, like listening to Wyll's obviously dramatized renditions of his escapades as The Blade of Frontiers. Or allowing Gale to ramble on about his cat - his tressym, as the obnoxious wizard was so fond of correcting them. Shadowheart seemed to like her just because Tav left her alone and didn't ask her too many questions, but chuckled along at all of her jokes at the others' expense. She had even gained Lae'zel's trust after asking her for fighting tips and electing her as the group battlemaster in case of combat. And Karlach took nothing at all - the two have been practically joined at the hip (from a fire-safe distance, of course) since the tiefling joined their camp. She must be hiding something, he thought. No one can be that good at gaining peoples' trust without good reason. He would know.

She tried to read him, too. She made little jokes and comments under her breath only for him to hear, trying to be conspiratorial. She complemented him often, trying to appeal to his vanity. But most obnoxiously, she went toe to toe with him in battles of wit. Any time he threw loaded grenade of snark and vitriol at one of their companions to entertain himself, she threw it right back. It was infuriating, being undermined and bested at his favorite game. That was probably why the others' liked her so much, because she was fond of shutting him up and making him seethe quietly in the back of the line. Nobody else liked him.

Good, he thought. Best to go it alone anyway. Never needed a friend before, don't need one now. As soon as I get this bastard out of my eye, I'll be gone faster than a rat in Cazador's dungeon.

The thought of rats unpleasantly reminded him of his thirst. Typically, he waited until the others were asleep to go off and hunt so they wouldn't suspect the truth about his condition. But seeing as they were all singing (except Lae'zel, of course), he guessed no one would notice if he stalked off.

He took no joy in his kill tonight, feeling grumpy as he continued to brood over his distaste for Tav. Two hundred years thinking of nothing but Cazador and he was finally free, only to spend every moment bemoaning his luck at being stuck with the spellcaster. He drained the boar of its blood and left it carelessly on the side of the path, electing to wander around for the remaining nighttime hours rather than returning to camp. He was too restless to trance anyway. And she was there. She probably conjures butterflies in her sleep and dreams rainbows, the foul beast.

"The hells is that?" asked Karlach, squinting at a large lump on the side of the path.

"Looks like a boar," said Wyll, going over to toe it with his boot, Tav close behind. "It looks... it looks like it's been drained of blood. There's no stain around it. I can't even see a wound."

"That's odd," remarked Shadowheart, quirking an eyebrow. Astarion shifted on his feet, agitated. Shit. He should have taken more care to cover his kill last night. Looking around, he started as he realized Tav was staring right at him.

"Oh, who cares, it's only a boar," he said impatiently, looking quickly away from her, unnerved. "Surely there are more interesting things to investigate. Look, I see goblins mounting an ambush through the gate up ahead. Let's go and kill something." He stalked off, not waiting for a reply and removing his daggers from their sheaths.

"Something on your mind?"

FUCK. Astarion couldn't remember the last time someone had snuck up on him. He had been pacing in a clearing just outside the camp, wondering if Tav somehow knew his secret. He was debating with himself whether he should abandon the group and set out on his own when her voice - the last voice he wanted to hear - startled him. Rounding on her with daggers drawn and his hair standing on end, he fixed her with his most murderous expression.

"Do you make a habit on intruding on people's private contemplations?" he hissed angrily.

"You know better than anyone the advantage of catching someone off-guard," she replied coolly, folding her arms and shifting her weight.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm as he lowered his weapons. He loathed her completely in that moment.

"Only wondering where you were. Looted some good food for supper from those goblins, if you're hungry." She tilted her head. "Or perhaps you've already eaten today."

They regarded each other cautiously as her words hung in the air. He was certain that she knew. Was she afraid he would hurt her, or the others? She could tell them his secret, and they would all turn on him. So what did she want in exchange for her silence? Was she shaking him down?

"I'm not hungry," he replied slowly. Slowly, he raised his empty hands, daggers now sheathed. A gesture of surrender. "I'm happy to keep watch while you all eat. I will ensure no harm comes to anyone."

She narrowed her eyes, seeming to understand the duality of his words. He was promising not to drink from them. After a beat, she replied with a stiff nod. He allowed his tense shoulders to drop. She was promising not to tell them. For now.

Satisfied at their new agreement, Astarion spent the next 2 days coming up with a new plan to manipulate Tav. With her being the the leader of their group, it seemed prudent to ensure that she would protect him should the others begin to turn on him. Much as he despised her, he conceded that she was his best chance to finding a cure for the parasite, and thus his best chance for true freedom from Cazador. If she was already willing to hide his condition from the others, it would not take too much more effort on his part to get her to play completely into his hand. All he had to do was try a little seduction. Even she couldn't best him at that game.

But even has his plan took shape, he could feel his thirst, an ever-present beast clawing up his throat, undermining him. It made him irritable, weak, and unfocused. Instead of charming her, he more often found himself arguing with her, stabbing her with vicious insults about her sorcery, her class, and even her looks. He didn't really even mean them; she had proven herself an adept spellcaster in both battle and everyday application, she seemed to come from a fine, middle-class family in Baldur's Gate, and her looks were perfectly adequate to the average person. Not beautiful enough to tempt Cazador, maybe, but enough that Astarion caught Gale's eyes lingering a little too long a little too often. For some reason, Astarion found that infuriating.

He had lobbed a particularly nasty mockery at her earlier in the day after she had insisted that they all run in to a burning building to rescue some helpless fool, so he was quite surprised to find her clearing her throat outside of his tent that evening.

"Come to shoot a firebolt at me since you didn't quite singe all of my eyebrows off this afternoon?" he inquired bitterly.

She rolled her eyes. "Can I come in?"

This was unusual. No one had ever asked to enter his tent before.

"I suppose," he replied cautiously, and she shouldered past him through the flap. He followed her back inside and she turned to face him, crossing her arms defensively.

"You've been a real arse these last days." She said it with a finality that left no room for argument. He poked at her anyway.

"Well, thank you," he broke into a smile and a shallow bow. "You should see me when I don't have a parasite in my head."

"I've had enough," she continued, as though he hadn't interrupted. "This ends now."

"What are you going to do?" he hissed, joking manner aside as he closed the distance between them threateningly. She was going to tell the others. "You'll be dead before you reach the door."

But as usual, the moment he had the upper hand, she pulled the rug out from under him. "I'd rather you not drink so much as to kill me, since I'm offering it out of the kindness of my heart."

He never could quite get his footing with her.

"Excuse me?"

"If you drink some of my blood, will you stop being such a devil's shite?"

It took considerable effort for Astarion to clamp his jaw shut and rearrange his features to mask his shock.

"You want me to drink your blood?"

"Want is a strong word. But I'm willing to make a small sacrifice for the good of the group if it'll shut you up long enough for us to find this Halsin without your moaning and whining."

"I do not moan and whine," he protested petulantly. "And I absolutely do not promise to shut up. But it will almost certainly improve my mood drastically." He licked his lips at the thought of it, eyeing her pulse point.

"Very well then. I suppose I'd better lay down in case I pass out."

Astarion watched motionlessly as she lowered herself onto his bedroll and swept her hair off her neck. His body seemed unable to move, yet his every instinct told him to tear her open right then and there. At the same time, the sight of her on his bedroll made him feel slightly nauseous - not because of her, but something akin to shame stirred in his abdomen. Just another victim for him to ruin. It was almost too easy. So why the sudden... guilt?

"Can we get on with it? I don't much fancy falling asleep in your bedroll."

Composing himself, Astarion dropped to his knees with a flourish and bent his body over hers. It was horribly intimate, and he could sense her discomfort. He lavished in it.

"Comfortable, darling?" he smirked at her and winked, and she rolled her eyes.

"If you accidentally kill me, you know that Karlach will make sure you burn alive. So, not a drop more than you need."

"Of course, my sweet. No need to worry. Only a teensy little sip and I'll be out of your hair."

She looked like she didn't believe a word, but she turned her head with a sigh, exposing her neck to him.

"It'll only hurt a pinch," he breathed as he lowered himself to her pulse point. He was struck for a moment by her scent - violet and plums and something smoky - before he bared his teeth. He felt her take a breath, and then he sunk his fangs in.

They moaned almost in unison, her in pain, and him in pleasure, as he began to drink. Gods, it was perfect, even better than he had ever imagined it could be. He could've sworn that her blood tasted like violet and plums as it splashed over his tongue. She was clutching his arms for support, and he felt his hand clamp down on her hip to hold her in place. But she didn't try to get up, laying stiffly beneath him as he suckled her lifeblood.

He could kill her. It would be so easy. She would feel like she was falling asleep, and he could drink her as dry as the boar on the side of the road. The image of it rose in his mind; her, pallid, bloodless, slack-jawed. No more stupid singing. No more butterfly dreams.

He retracted his fangs from her quickly, as though she had burned him suddenly. Her grip on his arms had weakened significantly, and her head seemed to loll on her neck.

"Oh dear. Don't pass out, darling."

He scooped his hand under her cheek and turned her face toward him. Her eyes were placid and unfocused, but she was blinking like she was trying to maintain consciousness. Already she looked pale. He bit back the resurgence of the guilty nausea and pulled a pillow under her head.

"Just a moment, love. We'll get you all sorted." His tone was light and airy as he rummaged in his pack for a healing potion, but he was more unnerved than he would've liked to admit.

"There we are." He uncorked the stopper and held her head up, tipping the potion down her throat slowly so as not to choke her. After a few deep breaths, she brought her hand up to her forehead and rubbed her temple.

"I said 'not too much', you arsewipe," her voice was weak, but clearly irritable.

"I can't help that you're so delicious," he cooed, relieved that the potion seemed to recover her somewhat. He noticed that her fingers were trembling, and a shiver wreaked through her whole body. Sighing, he pulled a thick blanket up around her. Her eyes on him were daggers, but she didn't push it off. "Just relax here for a bit. I won't be sleeping anytime soon, after that. It was quite... invigorating."

She eyed him curiously. "You say it like you've never done it before."

Sharp as ever. How did she always know?

"I... haven't. You're my first. My first... thinking creature, that is." He smirked at her, wiggling his eyebrows. "I bet you didn't guess I was a virgin."

She didn't take the bait. "So what did you eat?" Her fingers had stilled against her temple; he had her full attention now. He didn't like how her scrutiny made him feel. Somehow, even though she was so weak she couldn't raise her own head, he was the one feeling vulnerable.

"Oh, rats, flies, roaches, whatever one could find on hand 'round Cazador's dungeons," he said with forced nonchalance, examining his fingernails. "Cazador is - was - my master. I am his vampire spawn." He couldn't bear to look at her, sure he would see pity in her eyes that would make him want to claw his skin off. "How did you know about my condition, by the way?"

"You aren't as subtle as you think you are." His head snapped up at that, insulted. "And I've spent some time studying the condition. One of the guildmasters was hoping to imbibe a potion with some of the properties of vampire blood."

"To what end?" Astarion asked, curiosity piqued.

This time it was she who smirked. "The official story was that the research was focused on creating a more potent healing potion, since vampires are known to have such rapid regeneration. However," she pushed herself up gently on the pillows, "I always suspected they were hoping to create a potion of immortality."

"Well, that would be something," Astarion mused. "However did they get a vampire's blood to experiment with?"

"They didn't. It was all theoretical. I was trained to learn to recognize a vampire if I spotted one, with the hope of obtaining its blood for the research. With permission, or... by force." She looked as though the idea left a bad taste in her mouth. His face must have given his thoughts away as well, since she looked at him and chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm not going to steal your blood. I doubt it would have worked anyway."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well," she sat up further, the color beginning to return to her cheeks, "for one, I don't believe vampirism works in the way most mages think it does. It's not some kind of magical curse imbued with some mysterious arcane properties. I think it's... more like an illness. Like a plague, that can only be passed one way."

"Well, it certainly feels like a curse," Astarion intoned bitterly. "And if it's an illness, I've never heard of a cure."

She shrugged. "It's only a guess. But it is a little exciting to meet one up close, after all my research." She was smiling at him earnestly now, again making him feel uncomfortable.

"You're a strange creature. I just drank your blood and you're excited. One might think you have... odd predilections." He grinned wickedly at her.

She chuckled. "How are you feeling now? Less cranky?"

Astarion took stock of his body as he climbed to his feet. "I feel strong. I feel..." he trailed off a moment, searching for the right word. "Happy."

Tav clamored to her feet as well, with far less grace. She wove unsteadily for a moment, and he caught her waist to ensure she didn't pull his tent down in a fall. They were standing quite close again, and he felt his guard drop for a moment.

"Thank you," he said quietly, "for trusting me. I... this is a gift, you know. I won't forget it."

"I suspect neither will I," she murmured, smiling at him once more. "Well, good night then."

"Sweet dreams."

He watched her walk slowly and tiredly back to her tent on the other side of the clearing, head reeling with everything that had just happened. She had offered herself to him, but not in the way he was used to. She had offered her blood, and she had trusted him to take it. But why? What is there for her to gain?

She wanted him placated, clearly. Perhaps she was as annoyed by him as he was by her and really did just want to shut him up. Maybe she was mounting her own manipulation plan, forcing him to be dependent on her blood to do her bidding. He hated knowing that if she offered again, he would greedily accept. But what reason did she have to trust him so easily not to kill her, when all he had done since they met was insult her? What was she reading about him that he didn't even know himself? The questions plagued him as he hunted that night, wishing every sip of animal blood was hers. He had a taste for it now, and it ruined him. If he had thought about her constantly before, he was doomed now.

As he lay down in his bedroll to trance, he raked his hand over his face. Then, he began to laugh bitterly. All around him, the only thing he could sense was aroma of violet and plums.

Part 2

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion angst #baldurs gate astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #wip

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letters-from-dekarios · 2 months

Text

a blind date with a wizard

summary: you’ve been lonely, your friends noticed, and decided to drag you to a tavern in waterdeep to go on a blind date with their wizard friend who you’ve never met. what in all of faerún could happen?

or: you go on a blind date with gale of waterdeep

word count: 4k

tags: gale x implied f!reader/afab!reader, fluff, mildly medium burn, alcohol usage, astarion and shart are also there, and also wyll is your ex

Okay, you had to admit it. You were lonely. You hadn’t had a date with someone in months and your vibe was seriously bringing down the mood of your brunches with your friend Astarion. The vampire had threatened to bite you if you wouldn’t stop droning on about how sad and lonely you were.

It’s not that you were unhappy with being single. You didn’t mind it! Singleness meant late-night tavern dives and staying out until the sun rose over the hills again. Singleness was freedom, and freedom was.. well, it’s in the name: freeing. You liked being single, for a while. And then you’d become all too aware of how cold your bed was by yourself, how quiet your house was during the day, how you missed having someone— anyone there for you.

You had that with Wyll Ravengard. He was your first love in a long time. He was sweet, and caring, he listened to all your worries and anxieties whenever you became troubled. You often found yourself longing for him whenever he was away, wishing upon the stars that he’d come home safely.

And then he broke up with you. It was messy. Maybe it was the luskan wine he’d had too much of. Maybe it was his father’s cold words getting to his head. Maybe it was the stress of being connected to that family name. Whatever it was, when it went down, it wasn’t pretty. You resented him for all he said and did that night, and somehow, some part of you still longed for him.

“I’m setting you up with someone,” Astarion told you sternly one afternoon.

“What?” You couldn’t believe your pointed ears. He had no right over your love life! How dare he!

“I am so over you droning on and on, every day about Wyll. He found someplace else to sheathe his dagger, it’s about time you do the same.” Astarion replied pointedly, his sharp eyes glaring at you. He was done hearing about your ex.

“Ast-“

“No, I positively do not want to hear it. I could drain your blood to the point of death and somehow you’d find a way to make it about Wyll. You were too good for him and you should start proving that.” You weren’t going down without a fight on this, and Astarion would first rather go back to Cazador than lose to you if it came down to it. The case was open and shut, almost immediately.

A few weeks went by with little being brought up on the subject. You had hoped he’d forgotten about it and the world could move on, but you were sorely mistaken. All of a sudden you were seated in front of Astarion and Shadowheart; clothes were laid out all around you, and makeup and hair accessories were next being dumped on any table they could find.

“It really is such a pity you have to go around with this face every day,” Astarion clicked his tongue softly, crossing his arms over his chest. You had the right of mind to kick him had Shadowheart not jumped into the situation.

“Let’s not be so harsh. It’s definitely workable.” Shadowheart, though essentially equally as harsh, had a kinder inflection to her voice that comforted you. Somewhat.

Three hours and seventeen outfit changes later, you were finally (gods you hoped) done. Astarion and Shadowheart had to step back to admire their work. Your hair was done in intricate braids, flowing down your back and around your head. They put you in a form-fitting dress that came just to your knees, it was a deep, royal blue color that emphasized your features perfectly. The dress was embroidered along the sides and the deep v-neck collar in gold, twisting vines and flowers adding to your magnificence. They added simple, yet effective, gold earrings and a necklace that brought the entire thing together. And, of course, they couldn’t forget the heels.

You were an entirely different person. Visually, at least.

“Not too bad of a job, I’d say,” Shadowheart noted, confident in her and Astarion’s work.

“It’s an upgrade.” Astarion nodded in agreement.

“You guys are just downright mean, you know that?” You cocked an eyebrow at them, crossing your arms with a look of annoyance on your face.

“And yet you love us all the same,” Astarion gave a faux-sweet smile towards you, widening his eyes like a little puppy.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t,” You retorted, rolling your eyes at the two of them and their smug expressions.

About a half hour later, they were leaving you behind to go get wasted at another tavern “nearby”. Though you knew that wasn’t true, and they’d be far gone by the time you’d leave this ‘blind date’, you placed a false hope in them regardless. Besides, all you had to do was show up, talk a little, escape to the bathroom, and then shimmy your way out the window! You’d be fine. Right?

Right?

You tugged at the hem of your dress, pulling it down more, which only showed off your cleavage more so you had to pull down your dress again. It was a horrid cycle of feeling way too exposed out in the open, yet you also felt… bold. Was that right? In this skimpy outfit, so out of your own body, you felt bold. It’s crazy what the energy of a popular tavern does to a person.

“Um.. hello?” You walked up to the bartender, trying to remember the name of the man you were looking for. Gale Dekarios. Such an… interesting name, you thought to yourself. The only thing Astarion told you about him was that he was a wizard. You wondered if he meant that literally or sexually— well, you’d find out soon enough!

“What can I get for you, lady?” The bartender asked, and you became mesmerized by his flaming eyes for a moment. Gods, you were desperate to do anything other than go on this date.

“Oh, uh, nothing right now! I’m looking for a guy.. his name’s Gale? I was supposed to meet him here tonight..” You smiled awkwardly, rubbing your left thumb against your right palm to alleviate the anxiety you felt. The boldness you had walking in had quickly faded away as soon as you realized you’d actually have to interact with this man. Can you pray to all of Faerún to make you disappear? Please?

“I might’ve seen a guy come in with that name. Said he was looking for someone named y/n, that you?” The bartender asked, looking over you carefully. Was he checking you out? No… Ugh! Focus on the blind date for Faerún’s sake!

“Yes! Yes. That’s me. Can you point me in his direction?” You requested, smiling sweetly at him. Maybe you could say he didn’t show up! Then go home now! That would work, right?

“He’s over in the back corner booth. You’ll know him when you see him,” he pointed in the direction Gale was in, sending you off towards the blind date you did not want to be on.

Halfway through, your walk to the booth turned to a stride, and then soon you found yourself sauntering over, swaying your hips as the music from the band infused you with confidence. By the time you spotted the gentleman who, as the bartender said, looked like a Gale, you were fully into the swing of your old dating self. Kind of. The dating self that told people no, at least. Look, all you had to do was let him down easy, convincing him you were just too good for him. Easy!

“Gale Dekarios?” You asked, sliding into the seat across from the man.

“Y/n?” He replied, raising an eyebrow at you as you entered into his space. You studied his face, the short beard he had, the way his hair was neatly parted down the center. You listened closely to his voice, the accent, and the inflection he had in his words. You wanted to memorize him in case Astarion asked you questions later.

“It’s my pleasure,” Gale grinned at you and you could see why Astarion picked him of all people. Maybe he’d make a nice rebound.

“Look…” You began, but Gale cut you off with a raise of his hand. He shook his head slightly, a knowing smile on his face.

“Please, spare me the condolences. I don’t want to be here as much as I’m sure you don’t. But, that pale creature of a man somehow convinced me, I’m sure not by my own means, to go on what he called a date. For my own sake, and yours, I think we can keep this rather simple, can’t we?” He inquired of you, sympathetic to both of your situations.

And, despite the fact you had wanted to up and leave only moments prior, you now felt attached to him. You cursed Astarion for putting you with him.

“Oh my gods, you read my mind!” You breathed out a sigh of relief, shifting your expression to match your words. “I’m sure you’re a lovely man, but I just ended a relationship pretty roughly and I’m not sure I’m ready to do.. all of this, you know? Astarion is lovely for thinking of me to do this but I mean… really.” You trailed off, gesturing with your hands to what Gale already expected.

“Believe me, I know. Astarion can’t shut up about you. I do feel bad for your situation, but I don’t think I’m the best… fit for you,” he smiled, that sympathetic smile, and something inside you twitched. Was this a blind date only for you? What did he mean that Astarion talked about you? To him?

“Wait.. what?” You laughed awkwardly, a smile coming across your face and fading immediately. “What did Astarion tell you about me? He told you about my ex? This was supposed to be a blind date, right?” Your eyebrows furrowed together, confused and embarrassed.

“A blind date?” Gale chuckled softly, shaking his head as he took a sip from a glass you’d only just realized was there. Maybe you should’ve ordered something from that bartender. Maybe your face wouldn’t be as red as it was, and maybe you wouldn’t be visibly angry with your only friend since your breakup.

“I’m sorry, I was under the impression Astarion had given you a once-over about myself, as well?” He noticed your expression change and pursed his lips, nodding in understanding. “I see..” he sucked in a breath through his teeth, running a hand through his hair. How was he to approach this situation now?

“You mean to tell me Astarion told you all about me, my ex, and my recent situation… and then tried to set me up with you as if this was a blind date?” Annoyance laced your words, resentment creeping over them like a thief trying to steal your peace. Was this part of his plan? To trick you? You felt stupid for believing him.

“I was not informed this was a—“

“No, obviously you weren’t informed. What the hells did Astarion tell you?” You demanded to know. It wasn’t a question, you needed to save your image from Astarion’s grimy hold.

“Well, you see-“

You cut him off again, only to raise a hand to get a waiter’s attention. You ordered a drink, something strong, and then let him continue. You crossed your arms over your chest defiantly, eyebrows furrowed together with frustration. Gale paused for a moment, made sure he could continue, and then spoke once more.

“You see… Astarion spoke of a friend of.. sorts that might be to my liking. I, of course, asked some questions and he was more than willing to answer them. He spoke only good of you, I swear on my mother’s grave- which I never do, by the way. He happened to bring up exes and, well, the discussion got rolling and I asked about your case.”

Your nose turned up as you thought about being perceived in such a way that your friends would talk about you. Good or bad, it flipped your stomach to know that you were a topic of conversation for someone.

“He told me how you had just gotten out of a relationship with Wyll Ravengard. That it was rough, to say the least. There weren’t many details, but the picture was painted quite clearly.” Gale clarified, trying to soothe your mind about what Astarion spoke about you.

You could only dream of what you’d do when you saw him again… he was certainly in for it once you caught up together.

“That’s it?” You questioned, thanking the waiter who dropped your drink off.

“That’s it.”

Oh. Maybe what Astarion discussed wasn’t so alarming after all. That didn’t mean you weren’t still irate, though. He had lied to you about going on a blind date. Here you were, sat in front of a man you knew nothing about, while he practically had your whole life story! How unfair was that?

“I’m still mad at him.”

“I can tell.”

The smirk on Gale’s face was enough to break your outrage, even momentarily. You sighed heavily, pushed some hair out of your face, and took a long drink from your cup.

“I reckon we should get our stories straightened out so that we can answer any queries he’ll ask us, yes?” Gale proposed, tilting his glass to you.

“I suppose,” you replied, clinking the rim of your glass against his. You hesitated, though, once again feeling exposed- but in a different manner.

“I think it’s only fair you tell me how you ended up here on this not-so-blind date, considering how much you know about me already,” you added on, leaning back more comfortably in the booth.

Gale thought for a moment, before raising his hands in surrender. He thought the same as you, and he was willing to provide the information you pursued to feel level with you.

He went on to tell you about his life, becoming a wizard and dedicating himself to the Mother of the Weave- Mystra. Mystra sounded lovely, at first, until things went south and Gale was left, much like you, alone in the grand scheme of the world. You felt bad for him, your breakup with Wyll feeling a lot less dramatic now that it was in comparison to his. Who breaks up with a literal Goddess? Gale Dekarios, apparently. Maybe you could get along better than you thought.

“Wait wait wait-“ you paused him halfway through a sentence, waving your hand to shush him. You were three drinks in now and you could feel yourself becoming more relaxed by the moment. Time had flown by, it felt, the moon fully over the bar and shining in from any open windows.

“You’re telling me you can project yourself into the Weave and have sex with someone? But, like, not actual sex?” You asked, laughing your little head off at what the wizard was telling you. Honest to the gods, you never could quite understand wizards. You had your magic passed down to you, sure, but wizards? They were their own breed of people.

“It’s an intertwining of souls, not sex. Not entirely, that is,” he answered, laughing along with you. His smile was gorgeous, and the way he chuckled at your comments made you feel all warm inside. Or maybe it was the wine talking, you didn’t know.

“Do you want to get out of here?” You invited abruptly, pushing some hair out of your face.

“I’m sorry?” The look of confusion on his face was almost priceless, causing you to giggle softly.

“Not like that! Gods no. I’m just getting tired of sitting here,” you responded, moving away your final empty glass. If you had any more than that you might not make it home at all.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt. There’s a beautiful spot by a lake not too distant from here, would you like to go there?” He asked, sliding out of the booth and offering you his hand.

You took his hand, nodding at the question. Soon enough, you were sat on the edge of a clear lake, watching the water rush around the stones and the occasional fish swim past. Now in a quiet, secluded area, you had more room to think. What was Astarion’s purpose in setting you both up like this? It made no sense to you that he’d tell Gale one thing, and you another.

Yes, you were getting along just fine. Telling each other stories about yourselves, Astarion, your adventures. But that didn't stop you from feeling some sense of unease, not knowing Astarion’s true intentions behind this.

“I have to ask..” You looked over at Gale, leaning back on your hands in the grass. The moonlight crossed your faces here and there as a gentle breeze swayed the trees encircling you. It was soothing, almost, even if the night hadn’t gone nearly how you had anticipated it. To be next to someone you had some common ground with, and sharing a moment like this was.. nice. Nonsexual, you’d tell yourself, but nice.

“Go on,” Gale encouraged, meeting your gaze with soft recognition of your ease with him.

“You could’ve told Astarion no to meeting with me, considering all you knew. So why didn’t you?”

Gale paused, realizing the predicament he had placed himself in. He was so worried and so frightened of being hurt again that despite the fact he had agreed to meet with you, he turned you down. Astarion spoke so highly of you all the time, he had become terrified that, if anything worked out, he would do something to have it all come crashing back down. Again.

“I guess some part of me wanted to see how this would all play out in the end,” he confessed, allowing himself to be truthful with you. You could feel the anxiety, the tension in his words. He was afraid of being this vulnerable, it was clear, but he was choosing to be anyway. It was admirable in a way.

“I guess that’s why I came here, too,” You replied, nodding your head slightly as you looked up at the stars. You were glad you had been forced into it, even though you would’ve much rather stayed home and cried your heart out. “I contemplated jumping out the bathroom window at one point,” you laughed.

“Do you think he planned this all out?” Gale asked, chuckling to himself at the thought. Astarion was oftentimes wiser than he gave him credit for. He could have very well planned this out so well that you’d end up bonding over your irritation with him.

“Absolutely. I’m also definitely still mad at him, but I can’t say it didn’t work.” You laughed with Gale, moving ever so slightly closer to him. With the gentle breeze passing through, you could simply blame it on being cold.

“I didn’t anticipate it working,” Gale added, moving closer to you, too.

He smelled like a library. Earthy, woody tones stirred around you, inviting you into him. You accepted the invitation, making note of the hints of vanilla- sweet, but not overwhelming. The closer you got, the more attributes you acknowledged about him. It was more than just surface-level distinction, now, but a desire to know him- for all that he was.

He had been a gentleman the whole evening, not overlooking your frustrations or feeding into the embarrassment. He worked with you, not against you, and exchanged in meaningful conversation that wasn’t entirely about him. He already knew of you, and yet he still got to know you.

You vowed to never let Astarion know he was right.

“Y/n,” Gale called, breaking you from your thoughts about him. You realized you’d been staring at him, a stupid partial smile on your face while you indulged in the fantasy of him.

“I’d like to get to know you better before you start throwing the ‘kiss me’ eyes at me,” he joked, noting your expression that you quickly changed as you looked away.

“Oh shush, you,” You nudged him in the arm gently, your face becoming hot with his words.

“While I would love to, ‘shushing’ is not exactly my finest quality.”

“It makes more and more sense you’re a wizard with everything you say.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“You’ll find out.”

The two of you laughed softly at the banter, letting yourselves bask in the silence of the cool night. You wondered where this string would take you if you pulled on it— would it lead to him? Or would it end in a fiery disaster like both of your lasts? You almost didn’t want to try it, but this little voice inside you urged you on. It convinced you that, maybe- just maybe, there was something promising to find here. Maybe something even better than that.

“Gale…” you started, breaking the short silence you were enjoying.

“I know.” He answered softly, feeling the same as you. How could he let you go now that he had you? Astarion was right, you were everything. You were the light he had been searching for for so long, and now that he had you there was no chance in all the realms that he was going to shut it off. Why would he? He despised Astarion’s trickery but had to give him credit for leading you both to the sanctuary you each needed.

“Not tonight, of course, but…”

“I know.”

He always knew. You read each other like the back of your hands even though you had just met. You matched each other’s energy in a way nobody else had. It was like fate led you to one another- and who can argue with fate?

“It’s getting late— and if you say ‘I know’ one more time I’m kicking you,” you joked, beginning to stand, “I enjoyed this. Even though I didn’t want to.”

Gale stood after you, extending his arm towards you to take. You did, and he began leading you both out of the area and back to the city. “I enjoyed this as well, y/n. And, perhaps, if you’d let me…”

He trailed off, and you squeezed his arm in recognition of what he meant. He wanted to do this again. You wanted to do this again.

“I’d love to,” you answered the question he hadn’t even asked, smiling up at him.

The rest of the walk back was quiet but in a comforting kind of way. Not awkward, not weird, just a nice.. nice quiet, knowing you would see each other again soon and would have many more things to discuss.

Gale walked you all the way home, like the gentleman he was, and wished you a good night and sweet dreams.

“Ah, I must not forget..” Gale paused, extending his hand towards you. You placed one of yours in his, and he bowed his head to place a kiss against the back of it. Your face flushed, and you nearly wanted him to stay the rest of the night with you.

“I’ll be seeing you again soon, yes?” He asked, letting your hand go as he stood straight once more. His eyes had little reservation in what he meant about that, and your answer fueled the fire behind them.

“Yes.” It was a simple answer, but one he looked forward to hearing. “Thank you, by the way. For tonight,” you added on.

“It was my pleasure,” Gale replied before he was finally off for his own home.

You returned into your own, giddy from the high and excitement this new chapter brought you. That was quickly replaced with anger as you saw Astarion, smugly waiting for you by a fire he had curated.

“Astarion!”

You had a lot to discuss with him.

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ode-to-fury · 2 months

Text

By Firelight

Pairing: Gale/Tav (pre relationship denial)

Summary: Gale can’t sleep, and he’s not… happy about Tav being up, but he’s not not happy about it. (I.e. I was trying to practice my showing not telling and I actually quite liked it)

Gale turned over for the upteenth time before huffing out a frustrated breath. Damn his godsforsaken back to the hells. No matter the position he attempted to lie in, something hurt. His bedroll was hardly a bulwark against the cold, hard, frankly unfathomably rocky ground.

He knew in reality it was the orb. It was always the orb. The artifact that Tav had given him had helped. Slightly. Not enough.

His ears were still ringing faintly, and if he lay still too long it felt as though he spun through the space behind his eyes, which reminded him far too much of nights as an apprentice after the Yawning Portal. The muscle spasms hadn’t quite started yet, but they would. He was all too aware they would. His cure was no cure anymore, and it worried him. Greatly.

To add insult to injury, he was perfectly aware he could probably conjure himself a comfortable featherbed.

He was also perfectly aware that such an act would expose him to enthusiastic and earnest ridicule from the rest of their merry little band.

He huffed once more, and decided he would give up for the night and try and read for a while. He grabbed the first book he could find in the darkness of his tent and crawled out through the flap.

It was a dark night tonight. The moon was only a small sliver amongst the stars, and occasional clouds obscured even that faint light.

The fire was crackling merrily, and Tav sat with her back to the stone in the middle of their camp, staring at the dancing flames. There was the small line of a frown between her brows, and Scratch lay with his head pillowed on her lap, her fingers absently scratching behind one upright ear.

He cleared his throat so he wouldn’t startle her, and her grey eyes flicked to him, then back at the fire.

“I was under the impression you’d already taken your watch earlier this evening,” he said.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she replied shortly. “Thought I’d let Wyll get some more rest instead of both of us being awake.”

“Very prudent of you.”

He groaned as he sat down next to her, leaning back against the rock. It was cool, which was soothing against the aching in his back.

She glanced sideways at him, then back at the flames. From here, he could only see one corner of her mouth, a faint scar trailing along her jaw. He found himself wondering how she’d gotten it. Scratch reached out his nose to sniff at Gale’s hand, then, when he had determined there was no immediate threat, returned to being pampered.

He was glad, selfishly, that she had told Wyll to go back to sleep. He… he enjoyed her company. Was glad of it tonight. It seemed to him, no matter how bleak their circumstances appeared to be, when she grinned her crooked grin, that everything would end up perfectly fine.

“What book?” She asked after a while. Gale started slightly, realizing he’d been sitting there with the book unopened for too long.

He cleared his throat.

“A treatise on the crafting of magic shields and the various attributes of each different type,” he said. “I found it in that ruined temple we explored, though I haven’t yet found the time to study it. Of course, there are quite a few thoughts in the school of abjuration on various magic shields and their uses, and then you have the regional differences, I mean- if you’ve ever read a text originating from Amn and the wizards there you’ll find they approach the entire concept differently from even the beginning of spellcasting when compared to here or even Calimshan. Though the Calishite school again has other ideas on the concept but the point I was trying to make is how region and even regional ways of thinking can influence- “

He stopped when he realised she was looking at him with a small smile on her face.

“What?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, jerking her head toward the fire. “I- I suppose I always thought a shield was a shield.”

He laughed.

“Believe me," he said, grinning, “Many an apprentice thought the same thing before our first abjuration lesson at Blackstaff.”

She looked over at him, frowning, then shook her head.

“You’ve never had any instruction?” He asked.

“Would it make a difference?” She asked sharply.

He held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“A simple question. In fact, I think it’s very impressive you’ve managed so much with no education, especially given the volatile nature of your magic. There was one sorcerer in my class at Blackstaff, but he was of a draconic line, and to my understanding their magic is much less erratic than some other origins’.”

She was still frowning at him.

“Sometimes,” she said slowly, “I can’t tell whether you’re giving me a compliment or not.”

He winced.

“I assure you,” he said, somewhat apologetically, “It was intended as one.”

He tried for a sheepish smile.

“I’m afraid I’m out of practice.”

One of her eyebrows lifted.

“At compliments?”

“Partly.”

He realised they were moving into dangerous territory, and if she asked any further questions he would not have answers for her. He- he didn’t want to tell her about the orb, or Mystra. Asking for artefacts had already somewhat broken her trust in him.

It was… nice. To have a friend. Besides Tara, of course. Though Tav was much less of a nursemaid than Tara was. Between the two of them he’d never be short on scathing remarks, however. Or stubbornness. For the time being, he would pretend as though he was not a shell of his former self, merely until he had found a different way of sating his arcane hunger. Then he would cease being a burden or a liabillity to her and the others.

“I’ve had… some instruction,” she said, snapping him back tot he present. “Over the years, whenever I liked a spell someone cast, or needed to learn something for survival. Other things just happened naturally, like throwing up a shield the first time an arrow came firing at me.”

He watched as firelight flickered across her face. Her nose was turned upward, and he found himself tracing the slope of it with his eyes.

“And summoning a cow to drop from the sky?”

She tried and failed to hide a grin as she shot him a look. A deep dimple appeared in her cheek. He’d never met anyone with dimples before her. Such an endearingly human imperfection.

“That doesn’t count,” she said. “I didn’t do that on purpose.”

He shook his head.

“It took me two months to work out how to summon a tressym,” he said.

“In this world, Gale, there are people with talent,” she lay a hand on her chest, “And people without.”

She looked at him pointedly, and he burst into laughter.

Again, she watched him with that small smile, and he found himself returning it.

“If it makes you feel any better, my father was livid.”

He shrugged.

“My mother was not much better, but she forgave me eventually, I suppose. And let me keep the tressym.”

She snorted softly.

“Good for you.” Her gaze returned to the flames, and he realised he might have touched on a sensitive subject.

“You still owe me the rest of that story, you know,” he nudged her arm with his elbow, regretted it immediately when she tensed.

“You still owe me that drink to go with it,” she said. He did not miss that she moved away from him slightly.

“I could, ah, read to you,” he found himself saying, if only diffuse the tension he had just created. “If you wish. Though the book may be out of date by several decades, if not centuries, based on the penmanship alone.”

She grimaced, looking over at the book he held as though she was looking at a particularly unpleasant bug.

“A treatise? On magic shields?” She asked.

“Forgive me,” he said, feigning understanding, “I could also explain some of the more foreign concepts, as your lack of education would be a hindrance.”

She rolled her eyes at him, and only the faintest shadow of a dimple showed in her cheek.

“I normally prefer different books.”

“Different?”

“More interesting?”

“More interesting than an ancient academic treatise on shields?” He asked in mock outrage.

She rolled her eyes at him.

“I like adventure stories,” she said finally. “You know, where the valiant prince rescues the maiden in distress, or vanquishes a dragon, or two young lovers have to stand up to their families.”

He grinned.

“You didn’t strike me as the type.”

“No?”

“No. You seem far too cynical to be caught up in any adventures that are not your own.”

“Well,” she said, shrugging, “Looks can be decieving.”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she looked at him, just for a second, and a dimple showed again as she gave him another crooked grin. So different from the cynical adventurer he had met but a week ago.

“I suppose they can be,” he said softly, and found that he was grinning back at her again.

She looked back at the fire, and Gale cleared his throat slightly, feeling suddenly as though he shouldn’t be looking at her at all.

“You can read to me,” she said. “If you’d like. Believe it or not, I like learning. About magic especially.”

She shrugged.

“If anything it will make the time go more quickly.”

So Gale did.

And later, just before dawn, when her head drooped onto his shoulder he told himself he didn’t think much of it, and that she was simply tired.

He let her sleep, however, without complaint, savouring the first friendly touch he’d felt since she’d pulled him from that rock, and realised that he had forgotten to worry about the orb since the moment he’d set eyes on her.

#he’s PINING your honour #but he’s also in denial #sorry i can’t write smut so you guys can have this #scratch is just there and gale might be a little jealous but of course he’s not thts ridiculous #gale:talking about calishite magic shields #tav:heart eyes #gale dekarios #bg3 #bg3 gale #wildweave #gale of waterdeep #gale/tav #gale fic #gale dekarios fanfiction #bg3 fanfic

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