jmliebert

[jmliebert]

When Gale Gets Jealous ꨄ︎

this man forgot his literal goddess because of you—of course he can get a little bit jealous!

funny looks

anxious looks

counts, in his head, the order in which you visit tents during your evening camp rounds. 

overthinks it, gives them meaning where there might be none… or maybe there is

talks even more than usual with you when he’s jealous—like he wants all your attention to himself 

fish for every word of praise you give to others, feels especially down when it’s told to someone he feels especially uneasy about

knows it’s foolish to think that way—but he can’t help it

yet, he tries to do something about it, so he tells you outright, a little bit embarrassed but eager nonetheless 

wants to hear you say he’s the only one (and never gets tired of it)

slips sly, (dare I say sassy?) little barbs under layers of eloquence and polite civility toward people who are too friendly with you

didn’t even know he had that in him—acting like a sharp-tongued teenager—but here he is, so fierce when it comes to you!! 

his perspective on jealousy shifts when you open up about Mystra, being jealous of her

at that revelation his eyes go wide—he insists, almost desperately, that there’s only you, and how could you think otherwise? 

then he realises you must feel the same way about him, and that gives him perspective, and ease him 

he tries to be fair, reasonable, like managing his jealousy in healthy ways which is lovely 

but deep down, yes, he’s a jealous man

and somewhere in him, in a place he refuses to look too closely—jealousy almost feels sweet

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about astarion ♡here♡

just so you know...i've also written about jealous astarion and halsin

support me here <3

[jmliebert]

When Astarion Gets Jealous ꨄ︎

Astarion is absolutely the jealous type

he scoffs, rolls his eyes, sighs theatrically

and who does he get jealous of? you, obviously

he loathes any attention you get that isn’t from him

behind that carefully practiced boredom are watchful eyes—always on you, always discreet

it’s confusing at first. no strings attached, yet he gets irritated when someone else is a little too nice around you

watches you charm your way around camp at night with a thin smile. so social, aren’t we?

so he mocks Wyll’s “blade” with a pearly smile...

...puffs his chest around Gale, especially after the Tiefling party. (poor Gale never stood a chance)

casually notes you’ve been spending just a bit too much time in Shadowheart’s tent. (not that he cares)

Karlach? he can tolerate. you’d melt if you touched her—literally

yeah...he notices everything—every laugh, every glance—but says nothing. far too proud to ask

the more jealous he is, the sharper the sarcasm. sometimes even a little cruel—but it’s not about you. he’s just mad at himself for feeling anything at all

but once things get serious, his jealousy shifts. it's quieter. tamed by...love. its root buried deep in his well-hidden lack of self-worth

he feels like he’ll never be enough—so he’s still jealous, but it’s softer now, on the outside at least

and Halsin? oh, he’s noticed. that walking tree trunk of a druid and the way he looks at you. Astarion says nothing. not yet

when you mention Halsin’s little offer, Astarion freezes. jokes. smirks. but his eyes flicker

two ways this plays out:

you decline Halsin offer: Astarion exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours. the relief is palpable. suddenly, everything feels lighter. brighter. he wouldn't tell, but he wants you only to himself after all

you say you’re thinking about it: Astarion heart sinks. still, he acts unfazed. aloof. but now he’s quietly clinging to you—watching, waiting, making sure you’re still a thing. quietly enduring, even trying to enjoy it, but deep down he know he can't. he want's you only to himself

oh, Astarion. what we do for love…

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

now everyone repeat after me: ASTARION YOU ARE ENOUGH AND YOU SHOULD NEVER DOUBT THAT!!!

you can find more of my works about astarion ♡here♡

support me here <3

[jmliebert]

Can I request how Astarion would act like when he's jealous like someone flirting with gn reader harder who is absolutely clueless please?

yesssss! i’m totally into jealous astarion (hihi) writing some little headcanons about it rn, should be uploaded later today so…

[jmliebert]

Who hurt you with these break up headcanons 😭

I must admit, last month wasn’t exactly generous with me 😵‍💫

[jmliebert]

When Halsin Gets Jealous ꨄ︎

the feeling of jealousy catches him off-guard. he hadn’t felt this way for at least last two centuries

hides it well. mostly

says, he doesn’t mind staying at camp. then starts to whittle his ducks just a bit too vigorously 

his smile? always warm, but it looses a little of his usual depth when you sit beside someone else by the nightly fire 

meditates longer than usual, quietly asking The Oak Father why your attention matters this much to him 

committing to the Shadow-Cursed Lands meant a lot to him, but if he’s honest, it did stung that he couldn’t get to know you the way he truly wanted to… (wink, wink)

enjoys it a little too much when you ask him for one more kiss—especially with the whole party watching

would happily take part in all your romantic escapades, and would openly tell you so

every time Astarion flashes you that smug grin and drops a flirty comment, Halsin is more possessive in bed than usual 

he doesn’t plan it, doesn’t think now i’ll be rougher, closer, deeper. it just happens

because for all his years, for all the bodies he's held, none have ever reached him the way you do

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

short n' sweet

you can find more of my works about halsin ♡here♡

support me here <3

[jmliebert]

☆ breaking up with Ominis Gaunt ☆

oh my, it's a heartbreak as its gentlest

yet, that doesn't change the fact that it would shatter him. completely

but unlike Sebastian, Ominis wouldn't fight ti win you back. he'd accept it, as if deep down, he always knew it would happen

he'd convince himself it wan inevitable. that with his past, name, family... he was never truly worthy of someone as bright as you

you were a ray of light in his often pretty shadowed world — warm, unexpected, impossible to hold onto for long

would think about you fondly, always. but he would start to pull away "it's easier that way," he'd tell himself

out of sight out of mind? (except..not really)

so he'd avoid places that reminds him of you, but sometimes he would strangely find himself there anyway

would still think about you constantly — in quiet moments, in between conversations, in the stillness before sleep. oh, nights were the worst

would search for your voice in crowded places

he would live more quietly then ever, even more guarded. less trusting than before

yet he would say he's fine, and he would be very convincing at that

but if you ever needed him, like truly needed him  — he’d come without questions

even if it set him ten steps back in his healing, even if it tore open every wound he was trying to close, he would do it. with his lips pressed into a tight line, and his heart beating tad too fast

he wouldn’t help because he hopes to win you back — that path, in his mind, is closed. he’d help because he still loves you. because no matter how much it hurts, he simply can’t not be there for you

that’s just how love works sometimes. it lasts — even when it’s no longer returned

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

 hi, you can find more of my works about ominis ♡here♡

[jmliebert]

☆ breaking up with Sebastian Sallow ☆

some little headcanons

he wouldn’t see it coming. not at all

at first? he wouldn’t let you

“that’s simply absurd…”

you were made for each other, you went through things most couldn’t even imagine. that kind of bond doesn’t break... does it?

his reaction would be anger — not directed at you, but at the world. he’s expressive and emotional, and might throw a small tantrum

but when he sees how serious you are, his anger melts. Sebastian then tries other tactic — he’d take your hand, look at you with those brown eyes heavy with unexpected softness and whisper something simple like…

“let me stay?”

when he sees however that you really, really mean it he would let you go, at least for now

doesn’t tell a soul about what happened at first. not even Ominis

one clue? (though a rather big one when in comes to Sebastian) he’s sulky. obviously. but says he’s not

lives in a world where the break up never happened. you’re still “his” in his mind

when world finally spreads (because of course it does — you were that couple) he starts acting very nonchalant. over-the-top nonchalant. suspiciously so

in reality he overthinks a lot. replays your “last conversation” endlessly, down to the smallest detail

doesn’t sleep, he can’t. his mind won’t let him

“I’m fine,” he tells Ominis. “BUT IT’S JUST FUNNY HOW…” (oh, poor Ominis) 

decides to try to make you jealous — flirts with others, puts on a charming show, is loud

except the entire performance is tailored just for you really. even mid-laugh with someone else, he glances toward where he knows you usually sit, waiting for a flicker of emotion on your face

eventually, he burns out. the charming smiles fade and he retreats into his books, his safe space

but now even the library feels empty… :( and remember that first time when you broke into the restricted section? ah… it hurts

ask Natty or Poppy for some kind of advice, but pretends he’s “just curious” how other people move on. says it’s all ridiculous, but he listens. every word

again thinks a lot 

he still wants to be mad, wants to be proud, but he misses your presence too much he realises — the adventures, the study sessions, all the laughter and sneaky smiles 

eventually he finds you. swallows his pride and says he’s sorry and he still wants to be your friend. he means it! (kind of) 

because he’s still in love with you. might even slip and say it outright, in the most casual tone

“I still love you, you know. Just putting that out there. No pressure.”

I would feel pressured but ok

and he’ll he’ll grin — that soft, lopsided grin of his 

stays close, supportive, but careful not to overstep 

yet always ready to be more, if you’ll only let him. (and he’s confident that you will)

is that stubborn hope? a bit of boyish delusion? or a deep, unshakable belief that you’ll end up together once more? well… it’s hard to say, but if you ever look back — even for a second — he’ll already be there, smiling like he knew you would

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

 hi, you can find more of my works about sebastian ♡here♡

[jmliebert]

Can i request a teeny tiny thing? I was wondering how the HL boys would react and what they'll do if their girlfriend is breaking up with them. Like for Ominis, his partner would break up with him cause she just wants him to be safe and not be harassed by his family for being with her. And with Seb, she's breaking up with him because she wants him to forge a new life without her because their history together is too heavy and riddled with tragedy. Pretty please? 🥺 thank you!

Hey! I actually got a bit inspired by this request — not gonna lie. So I ended up writing a few headcanons about how Sebastian would react to a breakup (not for any specific reason, just his reaction in general). I’m planning to write about Ominis soon too, maybe even Garreth if the winds are kind…

I’ll be posting the Sebastian ones this evening — hope you’ll like them! Thanks again for the message <3 Requests are always welcome!

[jmliebert]

♡ when gojo has a crush on you ♡

some headcanons to clear my mind 

it is known, and i mean it is KNOWN that Gojo has a crush on you. he's not hiding it; in fact, he thrives in it

stares at you with full-on puppy eyes, shameless and glowing. he's not even trying to be subtle

flirts with you like there's no tomorrow, he just needs you to know he finds you totally irresistible 

ask you out every single day, relentless 

you somehow keep running into him at the most random times and places. grocery store at 2 AM? he's there. passing your favourite cafe "by accident"? yup, not suspicious at all... 

he's genuinely confused when you don't seem interested at first. but instead of backing off, it fuels him real bad 

waits under your windom in the middle of the night like some kind of dramatic k-drama lead boy, brings you huge, extravagant bouquets of flowers just because. occasion? none, he'll say you are the occasion... 

when you're not with him, he is in the constant waiting mode. the second you appear, his smile lights up, ah!!so bright!!!  

pulls out his best modeling poses when you're around, and if he catches you staring he'll wink (obviously)

"liking what you see?" ;)) 

you blush? his favourite thing, it encourages him to be even more wild and flirtatious. there are no brakes on this train 

surprisingly gentlemanly - he opens doors, pulls out the chairs, carries your groceries like it's nothing

and would wear that pink Hello Kitty bag for you—head high, sunglasses on

has you saved in his phone as "baby  💖✨🌸💕😍🔥🍓💯” (or sth along these lines) 

that's the thing with Gojo—he acts like your boyfriend. casual touches, protective instincts, inside jokes... it’s all there, and there would be a lot more only if you'd let him

casually mentions you to his students like you're already dating 

hates when other people flirt with you, smiles sweetly, but you can feel the dark energy radiating off him 

sends you random memes at 3 AM 

pokes your cheeks just to annoy you—and then laughs like a kid when you get flustered

no matter what happens, he can't stay mad at you. ever. you could stab him and he would say you're cute

compliments you constantly, your outfit, laugh, intelligence, body, perfumes (everything is fair game)

always leaning in too close, when you talk he lowers his head like he needs to hear every word from your lips very clearly

fantasies openly about your future together (true master of manifestation) 

lingers in the doorway after walking you home. you're saying your goodbyes, and he's just standing there, watching you with a soft smile. "if you asked, I'd stay" and believe me, it's hard to say no to this (and i feel that Gojo knows that too haaa...)

when you finally show signs of liking him back, he melts. really. he becomes softer, quieter somehow... at least for a one full minute before coming back to flirting with you shamelessly (some things never change)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about jjk ♡here♡

[jmliebert]

☆ Gale x shy virgin ☆

It weighed on you like a stone bound to your chest — heavy, unmoving, persistent.

Every nightfall brought darkness over the camp, and with it, quiet moments just for you and Gale. You should have felt safe, at ease. But instead, nerves twisted inside you like tangled thread. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy his company — far from it. You liked him. Very much. And it was clear he liked you too. Painfully obvious, as Astarion would so eloquently tease.

Maybe he was right.

You noticed Gale’s soft, lingering glances when he thought you wouldn’t see. The subtle ways he tried to make you comfortable — the reassuring touches, the gentle smiles, his voice like silk whenever he spoke your name. He was doing everything right, really. You did feel safe. Almost.

He knew you were shy. It wasn’t hard to notice. You could be fierce and commanding in battle, but as soon as it was just the two of you, you retreated into yourself like a hermit into its shell. The bravery you showed on the battlefield melting the moment his hand grazed the small of your back, or (even better) when your kisses deepened and his fingers slid into your hair, trying to get better access to your delicate neck — especially since Astarion had left his mark there. Gale hated how that stirred something primal in him. A ridiculous urge to compete. He liked to think he was above such things, but when it came to you… he wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

And the nights you spent under the dim glow of magic light inside his tent? Thinking clearly became a battle in itself.

You’d be flushed, breath quickening, eyes wide. And gods, how he wanted to give you pleasure — to worship you like the stars themselves — but each time, you hesitated. Your touch would falter. Uncertainty flickered in your gaze. So he would stop. Always. He’d smile softly, sometimes even apologetically, and retreat to safer ground: gentle kisses, warm embraces, soft-spoken promises that asked for nothing in return.

And that was enough. Truly. He would wait — as long as you needed.

He figured maybe you were the kind to wait — and he understood that more than you knew. He was the same. He thrived on slow affection, the art of subtlety — glances with layered meaning, long conversations, a connection built over time. It was courting, really.

And for him, it was sacred.

But time... time was slipping. The storm clouds were closing in, and the promise of his own destruction loomed nearer with every heartbeat. He would wait, yes — but a quiet fear gnawed at him: would he even survive until the next nightfall?

That thought clawed at his chest like a curse.

So when you finally made the first move, when you came to him — hand on his chest, lips finding his — he was stunned. Overjoyed. And maybe trying a little too hard to seem composed. The kiss deepened, your lips warm and demanding, and Gale had to suppress the quiet sound rising in his throat. He felt it spiraling, spinning out of control. You gasped against his mouth, and a shiver of pure pleasure ran down his spine. His hands slid down to your thighs, fingers moving with reverence— and then you pushed him away.

Not harshly, just… enough. Enough to make everything stop.

You didn’t mean to. It had all gotten away from you too fast. The thoughts wouldn’t stop spinning, loud and intrusive, like flies that refused to leave spoiled fruit. You hadn’t even thought before you acted like this.

And his face… it said everything. Lust. Hurt. Confusion. But also patience. Always that quiet, damn patience.

His hand still rested on your thigh. It wasn’t helping.

Gale was so good to you. He never crossed a line, never took more than you gave. And because of that, he handed you something so rare — control. He let you set the pace. Let you open your heart in your own time.

And that night, when you had finally let him in — only to panic like a frightened child — you felt the sting of shame.

After a long, silent pause, Gale’s voice broke the quiet like a breath of wind.

“Forgive me… I got ahead of myself.”

“No!” you blurted, too quickly, too loud.

He blinked.

You softened your voice. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

And you meant it.

Gale sat beside you, his face still flushed, breath slightly uneven, though he tried to mask it with calm. His brows drew together, concern flickering behind his warm eyes.

“Was it… something I did? Or…” His voice trailed off. “Is this about Astarion?”

You turned to him, a little too fast. “No. Gods, no. It’s not that. It’s not him.” You paused, swallowing. “It’s me.”

Gale blinked, his gaze sharpening. “Then what is it?”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. You could feel your palms growing damp.

“I’ve never…” The words stuck in your throat, but you forced them out. “I’ve never been with anyone before. Not like… that.”

For a moment, Gale was completely still. His eyes widened just slightly — not in disgust, not in judgment, but something closer to surprise. And then... nothing. No mocking smile, no teasing lilt. It was the first time when Gale was in loss of words.

Just silence.

You looked down, embarrassed heat crawling up your neck. “Obviously. It’s not something I’m proud of.”

That snapped him out of it.

“No—no, wait,” he said quickly, hands rising in that expressive, theatrical way of his. “Don’t say it like that. As if it’s something shameful.”

You didn’t look at him. “It kind of feels like it.”

Gale let out a breath, and when he spoke again, his voice had softened. “You think I care that you haven’t… what? Had a tryst in some smoky tavern corner? That it makes you less desirable? Less capable of being loved?” He shook his head gently. “No, it does not.”

You glanced at him, half-expecting a trace of condescension, but there was none. Just genuine warmth, tinged with a tenderness that made your stomach twist.

“You seemed surprised,” you murmured.

“Well, I was,” he admitted, sheepish now. One hand lifted to scratch the back of his neck. “Not because I think any less of you — heavens, no — I just... never knew.”

You let out a dry little laugh. “It’s not something I bring up around the campfire.”

Gale’s expression softened even more. “No, I suppose not. But thank you for telling me. That kind of truth… it’s not a small gift.”

You didn’t answer right away. The vulnerability of it sat raw on your skin, and yet… his reaction, his gentle steadiness, made it feel a little less sharp.

“I wanted to,” you said finally. “Tell you. I just… didn’t know how.”

“You just did,” he replied, voice low, eyes never leaving yours. His fingers brushed your cheek, light as a whisper. His thumb traced your jaw with reverence, not urgency. Everything about him was warm and patient and devastatingly tender. That made something inside you heat up. 

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “Not your story. Not your body. But if you want this—” his eyes darkened with something deeper, heavier “—I would treat your first time like a blessing. Not a conquest.”

Your breath caught. The world felt suddenly quieter. More focused. The only thing that existed in that moment was him — the weight of his gaze, the promise in his voice.

“I want this,” you whispered. “I just… I’m scared.”

He smiled, and it made your chest ache.

“So am I.”

You blinked. “You are?”

He laughed under his breath. “Terrified."

That made you laugh, and something inside you cracked open just a little more. He leaned in then, slowly, giving you every chance to change your mind. But you didn’t.

Your lips met his, soft at first, cautious. He tasted like magic and warmth, like safety. And when the kiss deepened, when you let your fingers curl in the fabric of his tunic and pressed in closer, the warmth in his touch turned into something else — reverent, yearning.

His hand found your thigh again, but this time you didn’t flinch. His fingers were slow, deliberate, waiting.

And this time, you didn’t stop him. His kiss deepened with a kind of restraint that made it all the more powerful — like he was holding himself back for your sake, not his. As if every touch was asking a silent question: Is this still okay? Are you sure?

And gods, you were.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

(do I need to add that after that night you would tease Gale relentlessly about his Astarion talk? hihi)

so, mother is back at last :') I dedicate this little short-story to @astarioffsimpmain and @bite-me-tonight because they inspired me to write it, thanks <3

you can find more of my works about gale ♡here♡

support me here <3

[jmliebert]

[A white fortune cookie paper with black text reading: Your fondest dream will come true within this year.]

[jmliebert]

adore it

Late Night Thoughts wt. Lenore

This one is dedicated to @bite-me-tonight and @jmliebert and based on @jmliebert 's "shy virgin" headcanons with Halsin and Astarion.

Hope I do it justice, you two. 🤭

🔞 Suggestive 🔞

♡

You hadn't told him. You meant to, you truly did, but it just didn't feel like the right time. 'How could it not be the right time, you fool?' You thought to yourself. 'You're in a relationship now! He's expressed how horny he is for you - and God, is that ever hot.' You felt your face heat up. It traveled nearly the full length of your torso before you reigned yourself back in. You had to tell him. Soon.

---

"At least you've opted for cocoa at 2 in the morning instead of coffee," he quipped playfully when you handed him his tea.

"You know coffee puts me to sleep," you pouted, and he laughed.

"Not before honing your focus on what alpacas smell like for an hour."

"The alpacas was one time!" You cackled.

"Yes, and the other times were...?" He trailed off, his eyes gleaming in the dark kitchen as he eyed you over his mug.

"Well, mostly you," you teased.

"Mmm, your uninhibited focus on me for a whole hour," Gale mused, setting his mug aside. "That sounds wholly delightful."

You knew that look. His eyes had narrowed, his left eyebrow had cocked up, and a dangerous smirk played on his beautiful lips. He stood from his chair and eliminated the space between you in seconds. His arms trapped you in the corner of the counter, and your mug was plucked gently from your fingertips before being set aside.

When he leaned in and nuzzled your neck, heat exploded within you. You had no idea how to react, but it felt so good; he felt so good. His hot breath puffed against your neck in between the trailing kisses that his lips pressed into every groove and curve, and your mind fogged over in a giddy delirium. It was when his palms snuck under your sweater to press into your sides that words found you — in the most blunt way possible.

"I'm a virgin!"

Your own eyes went wide at the admission; wider than Gale's. 'Wow, way to be smooth.' "I- well, I meant to tell you earlier, I just hadn't really... figured out how yet. I mean, I suppose you had deduced that already since you know I've never had a boyfriend or partner before, but I wasn't sure whether you'd gone so far as to assume - correctly, of course - that I'd never been with anyone sexually either, so- mmph!"

He pressed his lips to your own so suddenly that you yelped into his mouth, but you relaxed as he tugged your bottom lip between his, and you couldn't help but let out a little moan. He pulled back ever so slightly. "My love," he murmured against your mouth. "Would you like to wait?"

"No!" You exclaimed quickly, almost cutting him off. "No, I just.. it's new for me. I wanted to make sure you were alright with that. I know not everyone is.. I would also like to maybe, possibly, take it a little slow? Just so I can get used to all the sensations. I have orgasmed before!" You shut your mouth immediately and dropped your head on his shoulder. 'Smooth, round two.'

Gale chuckled gently and lifted your chin with his thumb. "No need to be ashamed. Speak plainly all you like, little love."

You knew your cheeks looked broiled by this point. They had to. "I've pleasured myself plenty of times before," you said, more slowly. "I've just never had anyone else pleasure me."

"And you're granting me this honor?" He asked. The question was not teasing. It was not sarcastic. He looked reverent. His eyes glistened, and his mouth sat slightly open in awe.

"I'm not sure it's an honor, but..."

"It is," he assured you, tugging you closer.

"I want it to be you, Gale," you whispered, his lips now only centimeters from yours once more.

He groaned in approval and captured your lips in a kiss, much deeper than the last, while his hands found the waistband of your pants. He paused and pulled back, seeking approval. When you nodded, he grinned like a cat who got the cream and tugged your pants down from your legs, falling to his knees with them. His fingertips skated up your legs and toyed with the elastic of your panties, sending chills up through you. You whimpered, the sound turning into a pleased sigh.

"So, my love..." he murmured softly, pressing tender kisses on each leg. "Tongue or fingers?"

~

[jmliebert]

how your lover would grieve you (bg3 headcanons)

watch out for angst!! and dramatics...

Wyll

Wyll would carry on with his duties—his body present, but his spirit often elsewhere. His heart would drift to you, again and again. Those around him would notice the change: no more smiles that reached his eyes, no more easy laughter or graceful charm. He’d move through life like a man lost in a dream.

For a time, he’d endure quietly. But gradually, he’d begin to live again—not because the grief lessened quickly, but because he knew you would have wanted that for him. He still had good to do, people to protect. And while you remained in his heart, the pain would soften.

Eventually, he might find love again. Wyll has so much tenderness to give, and he would treat any new partner with gentle reverence. But it wouldn’t be easy at first. The halls around him would feel quieter—heavier. Even the household staff might whisper behind closed doors that he was never quite the same after you passed. For a long time, his charm would seem more like a mask than a truth. Still, slowly, he would begin to let someone in.

Yet, unknowingly, he would see them through the echo of you. And if he were ever blessed with a child, he’d speak of you with a distant, wistful smile—a thousand-yard stare—and tell them stories of your courage and brilliance.

Gale

Grief would hollow Gale from the inside out. At first, it would be chaos. He would retreat into his "tower", his haven turning into a prison. He'd lie in bed for days, unshaven and unkempt—looking as though he had aged a decade in mere days. His books untouched. The most damning sign of his despair? He couldn’t even read. He’d turn pages, but the words would blur, his mind drifting endlessly back to you.

If not for his friends—and for Tara with her relentlessness at the top of it—he might have faded entirely. They would force him into the sunlight, into purpose. Teaching, advising, creating… none of it would feel the same. But still, it would keep him from crumbling. So he came back to teaching, but sadly lost his spark when it came to it.

He would likely never remarry, never truly seek another. Instead, he'd write—a book of poems in your memory, quietly tucked onto his shelves, never published. At night, he might speak to the silence as if you were beside him. Sometimes he’d conjure your likeness—not as a ghost, but as a remembrance. A comfort.

Halsin

Surprisingly, Halsin’s once vibrant appetites would vanish. For a time, there would be no lovers, no flirtation—only quiet reflection and the relentless trainings till his muscles trembled and he was out of breath. He would throw himself into his work, perhaps to cope, perhaps to forget. He would blame himself for not coming to you sooner. For not cherishing you more when time still allowed.

In time, he would come to accept your death. He would understand it as a part of the natural order—something he has preached so often. But this knowledge has a bitter taste. When you live as long as he does, saying goodbye starts to feel like the price of love. And it feels so lonely.

Eventually, he would return to his open way of life—but it would never be the same. You would linger in his thoughts, in his stories, and he’d find himself telling lovers about you. Not to compare, but because forgetting you is simply not possible. You were one of a kind, and he knew he would never find someone alike. And the realisation left his hear feeling even more heavy.

Even years later, he would still see you in the rustle of leaves, in the bloom of a flower, in the golden light of dusk. And each time, his heart would ache—but he would smile too. Because in the beauty of the world, he finds you yet again.

Astarion

To say your death devastated Astarion would be an understatement so cruel, it would feel like mockery. He would retreat from the world entirely, isolating himself with a bitterness that only grief could sharpen. He always knew world is shit, but you gave him hope and then and then he lost you just like that.

He wouldn't become like Cazador—never that. But his charm would fade into something colder, and his presence would carry a quiet warning: stay away. There would be rage, too. Shattered objects. Screams into the void. One moment, he would curse you for leaving; the next, he would sob your name and whisper that he loved you more than anything in the world.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

hello, you can find more of my works about bg3 ♡here♡

also, would you like me to write one of this characters in-depth?

[jmliebert]

♡ When Sebastian Sallow is Your Academic Rival ♡

You’re both gifted. Ambitious. Sharp-tongued, sharp-minded. In theory, Sebastian should admire that—respect it, even. After all, his circle is full of people like that. Anne. Ominis. Himself.

But with you, it’s different. Something about your brilliance grates on his nerves. The way you always have an answer ready. The way you breeze through lessons like you were born to outshine everyone else. It’s infuriating.

He watches you with furrowed brows in class, arms crossed, jaw tight. When you laugh at something a professor says, it physically pains him not to roll his eyes. He almost smiles with you once—but catches himself just in time.

It’s not that he wants to see you fail. Not really. It’s more that… every time you get house points (even if you are both in Slytherin), or say something clever, or challenge him with that knowing smirk(ugh!)—it makes his blood heat in the most frustrating way.

He argues with you constantly. Even when your point is solid—especially when your point is solid. He knows you’re right. He just can’t let you have the last word. There’s something he has to prove, and he’s not even sure to whom. You? Himself?

One time he snapped his quill in half just listening to you speak in class. “What’s wrong with you?” Ominis asked. “Nothing,” Sebastian muttered through gritted teeth, glaring at the inky mess.

You once called a sentence in his Transmutation essay “a bit weak.” He rewrote the whole thing that night. The whole damn thing.

He fixes his hair every time he passes you in the corridor. Doesn’t even think about it—it just happens.

He always wants to know where you’re going, who you're talking to. Not because he cares, of course. Just for strategy. Just… to be aware. So he scans the Great Hall for your silhouette every morning, watch your interactions with other students closely. Checks the titles of books you are currently reading, (reads them too, more often than not.)

Leander flirted with you once during a Crossed Wands match (or at least it looked like it, Leander surely looked tad too friendly to his tastes). Sebastian accidentally hexed him five minutes later. (oops.)

When you’re in the library, he always picks a seat that lets him see you. Just to keep an eye on you. Enemies must be in the plain eyesight, after all. But… enemy?

That word starts to feel less and less accurate every time he sees you.

The day you beat him in a duel again, you walked up and offered your hand to help him off the floor. He refused, stood on his own, and vanished into the shadows, hoping you didn’t notice how bright red his face was.

He talks about you so much that Anne and Ominis have grown completely sick of it. “Look,” Ominis finally snaps one evening, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Can’t you just ask them out already?”

Sebastian nearly trips over his own feet. “Wh-what?! Are you mad?” he stammers, stumbling backward like Ominis had just hexed him.

That night, he can’t sleep.

Because Ominis might be right. He’s been more lively since this strange... rivalry began. You challenge him. You make him sharper. You push him harder. It’s thrilling. Maddening.

He likes it. 

He likes the way your eyes light up when you speak passionately. The way you make him work for every inch of ground. The way your laugh lingers in the air like magic itself.

And the way you sit—so casually poised, legs tucked just so, robes slightly rumpled…

Also, there’s always that little glint in your eye—like you know something he doesn’t. It drives him insane.

He tells himself it’s just the competition. It’s not your smile. Not your ink-stained fingers tapping your cheek while you think.

Definitely not the way he always seems to find you in a room without even trying. He’s not looking. He’s definitely not looking. ...Or maybe he is, with his heart beating tad too much :)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

 hi, you can find more of my works about sebastian ♡here♡

support me here <3

[jmliebert]

Nanami as Your Husband

smells like expensive cologne and something warm, you melt into that scent when he hugs you. oh so good to be home

he doesn't say "I love you" all the time— but when he does, it hits you like a train. because he means it

rarely brings you up, because he’s rather private, but if someone asks, his whole demeanour shifts. a ghost of a smile, softened jaw

it goes without telling, but he remembers every anniversary. his gifts are thoughtful, but never flashy, always personal 

quickly notices when your ring’s off. subtly runs his thumb across your bare finger. not in anger—just quiet acknowledgment, with his brows slightly raised

gives you flowers just because. no note, no fanfare. just a bouquet left on the table in the morning light because he saw them and thought, you’ll love these

even more possessive than before marriage, like something in his brain flipped once the title “husband” was real

and it goes to sex as well. it's different now, he’s more attuned, more primal even—but not in a careless way. it’s about being close to you in the most visceral, human way

finds comfort in the simple rituals you’ve built together

your photo is the only one in his leather wallet, aged and a little frayed, but still utterly perfect 

sometimes kisses your hand absentmindedly while you’re talking, like it’s the most natural thing in the world

always (and I mean always) will come back home to your loving arms 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

 you can find more of my works about nanami ♡here♡

support me here <3

[jmliebert]

☆ Gale as Your Husband ☆

completely, utterly, and blissfuly under your thumb (and he wouldn’t have it any other way)   

not a soul will ever hear him utter a bad word about you

every single one of his students know about you. not by accident— Gale will find a way to work you into any anecdote, and always manages to speak about you in such a sweet manner 

sobbed when he saw you at the aisle 

remembers every anniversary 

call him your husband, even in a jest, and see what happens (it absolutely gets him. every.single.time)

will tell his friends he can’t make it because he “promised to spend time with his beloved” even if you never actually said so

when he’s out shopping (though not very often because he always wants to go with you), he’s always thinking of you. spices for your fav dish, book you might enjoy, a trinket he thought you would like…he jus’t can’t help himself

does everything you ask, no questions. if it makes you happy, he’s already on it

“where’s this? where’s that?" the number of times he’s misplaced things has you genuinely questioning how he survived before you

and when you find it, he will be like “oh, what would I done without my wife/husband” and kiss you senselessly 

if you argue, he’ll quietly take the sofa for the night when needed (though he would feel very lonely…) 

his students secretly poke fun at the way his cheeks flush whenever you surprise him at work with food or just to say hello (maybe because of that heated make-out sessions you do in his study after if time is kind) 

when it comes to your home, you’re the one in charge. want to redecorate? change something? by all means—he’d even live with the ugliest piece of furniture if it meant making you happy

because he really is all about making his other half happy :’) 

well, I think it's rather obvious but let me say it. Gale was made for marriage. he thrives in a partnership built on mutual support, on lifting each other up, on sweet talks, and kinky sex here and there

also a malewife 

even  after all these years, he still looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. romantic love, yes— but more than that you are his best friend as well, someone who cares, someone who won’t cast him aside and a truly beautiful and courageous soul

the thought of growing old with you isn’t daunting—it’s something he longs for actually 

his best time? the slow, quiet evenings with you of course (let these moments be eternal, he wishes)

overall, a proud and loving husband through and through

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

hello! what would you add to that?

also! you can find more of my works about gale ♡here♡

[jmliebert]

I absolutely love how you write Halsin! If you ever feel inclined to, would love to see your take on Tav finding and giving him honey and seeing his sweet, heartfelt, and emotional reaction to such a kind gesture.

I love the idea, but I would like to spice it up a little if you don't mind...

For a moment, Halsin simply stares, his breath catching as you place the small jar of honey in his hands. His fingers brush yours, and though the touch is fleeting, it lingers in his mind.

Such a simple thing—a gift given freely, just because Halsin once mentioned his fondness for it. And that was enough. It stirs something deep within him, something tender and aching. You, standing before him, offering him sweetness with a quiet, uncertain smile—feels profound. His chest tightens, and for a brief, unguarded moment, he is not the strong, unwavering druid, but simply a man touched by the care of another.

His lips part, but words fail him. Instead, he swallows, his fingers curling around the jar. "You thought of me," he finally murmurs, almost to himself, the depth of his gratitude reflected in his golden eyes.

And then, hunger flickers beneath the surface. It has been ages since he last tasted honey, and now that it’s in his hands, warmth pools low in his stomach, a primal sort of need awakening. He looks at you, a slow smile curving his lips.

"Then we must share it, of course. Something this sweet should never be enjoyed alone."

But when he eats, he doesn’t just eat—he devours.

Thick, golden honey drips from his fingers as he takes generous tastes, his throat bobbing with every swallow. He sighs, eyes half-lidded in pleasure, as if savouring something far more indulgent than just a simple treat. And you—gods—you find yourself staring. Watching the way his Adam’s apple moves, the way his lips glisten with the sticky sweetness, the way his broad hands handle something so delicate yet make it look so sinfully good.

You don’t eat quite like him, of course—far more reserved, less ravenous—but still, your fingers are left sticky with sweetness. Halsin notices. Of course he notices.

Before you can even react, his large, warm hand gently takes yours. And then, without breaking eye contact, he brings your fingers to his lips.

One by one, he takes them into his mouth, licking them clean, his tongue dragging slow and deliberate over each fingertip. His gaze never wavers, deep and smouldering, watching your every reaction, reading every flicker of emotion across your face.

"Can’t let it go to waste," he murmurs, voice low, husky, as if honey isn’t the only thing he craves...

And suddenly, the air between you is thick—as thick as the honey still lingering on his lips.